What if I could see a day through the eyes of God?

 

A Sabbath Morning Meditation.

What if I could see a day through the eyes of God? I wonder, what would I see...?

I guess I would see the beginning of dawn, the first light of day. And I would see everything is uncovered by the light. From the darkest corner to the edge of the expanding universe, light chasing light, nothing escapes His sight.

I would see the rich and the poor, and everyone in between. I would see them taking their first and last step, their first and last breath. I would also see their lives stripped bare, nothing is hidden, beyond humanity’s thoroughfare.

I would see the fig leaves they cover themselves with; some are made of royal cloth, others are worn and torn. But, whatever the coverage, they all return to the buried soil just the same. Naked they come, naked they go. God sees them all. 

I would also see their struggles, the rich and the poor, with success and failure. I would see them paying the same price for it, the price of a heart unsettled, unhinged. 

Through God’s eyes, I would see the rich building their babelian towers. I would see the sweat of many offered up at the altar for those crowned at the top. I would see their ambitions, their hunger, their turmoil and pain. I would see their desires to race to the top, some striving to be god. 

Maybe at this point, God’s sight would take a subtle turn and allow me to see their desires through their own eyes. And I would see what they see, and see that the more they possess, the more they see what they want to see rather than what they need to see. 

Alas, at the speed they are travelling, everything around them is a blur. I could see that too, though it’s a sight of limited clarity. And I could also see many being pulled by the undertow, driven and riven by a chaos from within they can’t fathom or control. 

Well, at this time, I could see the poor too. I could see that their lives are largely defined by what others have and what they don’t have. It is an existential gap they are constantly struggling to bridge; most times, in vain. 

But here’s where the sight of the rich and the poor converges. They are driven by what they want to see, not what they need to see. And their drive is fueled by the same heart, a heart that is never enough, unanchored too.

And yes, I would also see how they live. Between the rich and the poor, the contrast is heartbreaking. 

I would see their worries, their anxieties. I would see their tears. I would see babies left to die. I would see the innocent groping for justice and the guilty escaping from it. I would see wars, in homes and in public. I would see daily abuses and grief unspeakable. I would also see those who take their own lives, by the reassuring nudge of death, and that moment they take their last breath. 

Peering into what God sees, the light of dawn indeed unravels all. Nothing is hidden. Not the pain nor the sorrow, neither the grief nor the joyless tomorrow. 

But at every corner of despair, I would also catch a flickering light. Even in sheer darkness, the light still shines, refusing to give up. And I sense this is the part of the day where the tears of God turn into rivers of hope. This is the part where the light of righteousness uncovers what the heart longs to see, or needs to see.

This longing opens my eyes to a world where the darkness is wavering because the light is unwavering. A world where the darkness is retreating because the light is advancing. 

At this point, the first light of creation becomes clearer. I could see that it is doing His work, pressing on, never letting up. I also see hope rising and pain overcoming. Most of all, I would see lives restored and reconciled, over a lifetime. For even the shadow of death gives way to what is resurrected light. And as I behold it, I tell myself, “Oh, what wondrous sight!”

As the world is unveiled, through His eyes, I see the struggle to finish the good race is unyielding. Light and darkness pitting against each other, but darkness eventually bowing to the light. Indeed, at this point, the horror of the fallen has given way to the awe of the risen. 

I guess that is what I would see in a world fallen into darkness. It is a world illuminated by the light. A world struggling towards the light. A world redeemed by His love through the eyes of His son. 

Indeed, from the heights of Golgotha, I see the world through His eyes. I see what he meant when he said it is finished. His finished work is taking the world towards the clarity of a new morning. Through the lens of Calvary, I see enduring hope emerging.

And amidst the chaos and darkness, the first light of dawn has always been there. It has never left. We are not forgotten. We are all held together by it. That first light that unravels all. That first light that enables me to see what the eyes of God see, and so much more.

And that light is still doing the good work. It is still journeying with us. For no matter how dark the night, it still shines. For the darker the night, the brighter the light. And it pierces the darkness to light even the darkest night. 

Like a lamp unto my feet, it is enough for me to take that first step of faith, followed by the next step, and the next, until I finally see the full light of Day. It’s hope undimmed. It’s truth unfolding. It’s love unyielding. 

Indeed, while my flesh and my heart may fail, but He is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.

 

Religion and better mental health.

2,270 participants. That was what it took to come out with a finding about religion and positive mental health (“PMH”). The study was carried out by IMH in collaboration with Saw Swee Hock School of Public Health.

What is PMH? According to lead researcher Janhavi Vaingankar, 45, it generally refers to "a person's attitudes towards themselves, ability to handle life's surprises and ability to reach their true potential and resist stress".

To me, it is a deep soul searching personality, one that is intensely introspective and is aligned with a worldview (or a metanarrative) that not only provides solace and resilience to the individual, but also faith and hope to move forward in life (one step/day at a time).

So, are those with religion, or believe in a purpose beyond themselves and the world they engage in, cope better with life’s circumstances or trials? Well, the study seems to point to that. 

Reported by Cheryl Doo, it reads: “People with a religion were found to have a higher total PMH score, faring better in spirituality, emotional support and general coping. As spirituality includes practices like prayer and religious beliefs such as trust in a higher being, it was not surprising that people with a religion had stronger spirituality, says Ms Vaingankar.”

And FYI, the study measures six aspects of PMS: “General coping, emotional support, spirituality, interpersonal skills, personal growth and autonomy, and global affect, which is the experience of positive moods such as being calm and happy.”

Lesson? One - should we now go and sign up for a church, mosque or temple, do some good deeds and then wait for favour to pour on us in this life and the next? 

Well, being a Christian since 1985, I know intimately what religion can do to a soul. At least, that knowledge is personal to me. Like a fingerprint, no two religious experiences are alike. That is my caveat. 

To every belief, there is a dark and a bright side. A study like that is generally on point. You can’t believe in isolation. No religious man or woman is an island by itself. We are an archipelago of closely knit islands, pandemic or otherwise, collectively coping courageously in a sea of uncertainty, disappointment and doubt. 

The basis of religion is to bind a community together with a timeless purpose beyond this world. Being a social animal, body warmth always brings soul healing, cults and false teachings notwithstanding. 

Cheryl observed: ““That people with a religion had stronger emotional support indicates that "interpersonal aspects of PMH are stronger among people with religious affiliations than those without"”.

However, in the continuum of belief, at one extreme you have the martyr and on the other extreme you have the pew warmer. Under all circumstances, only the martyr will die for and with the faith. For the pew warmer, there is a price to his/her devotion. When it gets too high, you can be sure that one by one they will fall away, or remain in a suspended faith state.

Well, I do not know how the 2,270 participants are lined up for the study. What is their level of belief and faith. But there is a deeper aspect to belief or religion that can make or break a person. In general, most of us believe because of the community (and some of us stray also because of the community. It’s a double-edged sword, leaning in favour of community, of course). 

The binding communal effect of religion is irresistible to the faith subscriber. People attract people, masses draw masses, and crowd huddles with crowd. That is the interpersonal aspect of religion, and in that connection, ties, hope and faith are build up. 

Sometimes, it is an involuntary knock-on effect like the domino effect, or it’s something like the time when preacher Benny Hinn swung his coat at the congregation and that managed to pull down a whole row of front seaters, some falling due to gravitational reasons.

So, between the martyrs and the pew warmers, there is the goldilocks zone of religious belief comprising the unquestioning believers and the inquisitive ones. And their level of bliss depends on the level of ignorance they are prepared to bear by faith. 

Because, ultimately, the omnipotence is largely unknowable, and this has already been foretold in Deuteronomy 29:29: “The secret things belong to the Lord our God, but the things revealed belong to us and to our children forever, that we may follow all the words of this law.”

Yet, having said all that, here is where the faith of the martyrs leave little doubt that that Deuteronomic scripture is not a source of frustration, but one of comfort and hope. It is also a source of strength and courage to them. 

They are indeed a rare breed in the continuum of belief, and their faith is unshakable because they have a resilient and all-encompassing worldview that endures through good and bad times, blissful and stressful times. In fact, quite quizzically, their hope is so anchored that it is in the furnace of fire that they shine the brightest.

Religion for them is more than just a community of many. It is however first and foremost a community with one, that is, with the object of their affection and devotion. That is the true price of their faith, one that they are prepared to pay because for them, it is real, timeless and nothing in this world compares. 

That is the true prize of religion, and it is hard to study that kind of faith because it is not just about community, that is, the interpersonal aspects that yield better mental health. It is about a soul so transformed by a transcendental purpose that mentally, emotionally and physically, they are simply set apart from the things of the world as the latter goes strangely dim in the light of what is ahead of them.

 

Leadership that matters - Shepherd vs Sheepherder.

 

What a leader says must make sense. That is the litmus test for me. 

In a sense, what makes sense is grounded on simple principles. Essentially, there is a consistency and coherency in his words and actions. His actions, based on sound principles, are always enduring, plain, mostly unseen, behind the scenes, quietly impacting lives, but without fail, open to correction, learning as he or she adapts, and always hopeful, especially of the potential of the people under his charge. 

Such a leader doesn’t say to his people, “where are you going?” and then run in front of them, in the direction they have chosen, and say, “follow me”. That’s not how Jesus led. 

In all his humanity, Jesus laid down the cost for his disciples. He put it out there for them. “Count the cost,” he said. He did not say, “choose the price tag.” His principles are non negotiable. His leadership is not emotional. It is not about what you want to pay; it is about what you are prepared to give up in order to live a disciplined life that bears fruit. 

He said, “follow me”, and his disciples have not the faintest idea what was in store for them. Jesus took the time to build them up from within so that when their time comes, they have what it takes to transform lives, especially their own. Jesus knew that one can never calm the storm if the storm in one’s heart is still unsettled. But I digress...

Let me say that firm leadership does not lead from above, from a place of creature comfort. He is called to be a valley-side companion, not a mountain top director. He is definitely not a disc jockey standing alone on the grand stage rah-rah-ing the trance-like crowd. 

When Jesus calmed the storm, he was standing in front of his trembling disciples, not behind them. If there were any loose debris taken up by the wind, his body would be the first to take the first projectile strike.

Let us be reminded that there is a scripture in Numbers that reads: “Let the Lord, the God of the spirits of all flesh, appoint someone over the congregation who shall go out before them and come in before them, who shall lead them out and bring them in, so that the congregation of the Lord may not be like sheep without a shepherd.” 

That’s firm leadership, one that goes before the congregation, comes in before them, and leads them out as well as brings them in. 

It’s not stationary leadership. It’s active, proactive. It’s word lived out, not just word spoken, however much they excite the senses. That’s what makes sense about leadership. It’s word embodied, word empowered, and word transforming. Not just words, period. 

Finally, we must not forget that there is a difference between a shepherd and a sheep-herder. If you google it, “a sheep-herder is a person who herds sheep in large numbers in unfenced country. A shepherd is a person employed to guard, tend, and herd sheep, especially at pasture.”

A sheep-herder goes everywhere with his sheep. Their numbers define him; his validation comes from it. His pasture is unfenced because his will goes with the urgency or trend of the time. And when one sheep strays, the sheep-herder is the least perturbed. 

A shepherd however knows his mission. It is anchored on timeless truth. He is the sentry guard for his sheep. He protects as well as nurtures. His pasture is a rich green meadow, where his sheep are always nourished, inside and out. 

A shepherd thus leads; a sheep-herder excites. A shepherd is never far from his sheep; a sheep-herder stands afar. A shepherd takes the first hit; a sheep-herder hides behind his sheep. And a shepherd goes out of his way even for one sheep; the sheep-herder can afford to lose a few. 

And the shepherd leads under the employ of the one who calls him. The one who went before him. And the one who gave his life for him, and for all who are placed under him.

 

The Rice Bowl Leadership

I visited a cell group last Friday and had a heart-to-heart talk with the young adults.

I shared with them how I felt when RZ fell. It was scary (to say the least) how a man that well-versed in defending the faith and that successful in ministry worldwide could have engaged in such blatant sexual acts for more than ten years without anyone within his leadership circle calling him out. 

In fact, I have a name for that kind of leadership. It’s call rice-bowl leadership. It is quite universal, even amongst secular organisations. This is how it works, even quietly thrives. 

If you follow the trail in RZ’s countless of secret rendezvous, you will note that it goes back to 2004. That is the exposed trail that is known. 

In 2008, Salt and Light reported that he was “seen with a woman he was not related to in a Singapore hotel.” He was holding her hand and “appeared to be intimate with her.” When questioned, RZ said it was a misunderstanding, and his ministry declined to investigate. 

This is what the then Singapore Board chair said: “Directors agreed that derogatory remarks of any kind by any of the parties must cease immediately as they do not glorify the Lord...We are of the same conviction that brothers should reconcile where there have been misunderstandings...The work of RZIM is making great impact on unbelievers and any public dispute will bring irreparable damage to parties concerned and the organization.”

That is very much the deindividuation of faith - that is, “the loss of oneself as an individual,” and in the Christian context, a variant kind of bystander effect, where seemingly good leaders stand by one side, the organisation side, dismissing any cause for inquiry as a misunderstanding, and justifying it with this often heard forewarning - “any public dispute will bring irreparable damage to parties concerned and the organization.”

I trust that there is the peculiar universal effect concerning organizations, especially those who claim to be the emissaries for God. It is the rice-bowl leadership where one would do what it takes to keep one’s rice bowl from cracking. 

This bowl is often associated with economic incentive. But it covers reputation too. It also covers the zealous protection of status and positions. When the bowl is set up, comfortably receiving the earthly rewards that one’s unquestioned allegiance brings to it, there is little incentive, if at all, for breaking it because it just costs too much. 

Mind you, that “irreparable damage” part comes in two parts, that is, irreparable damage to the organisation also means irreparable damage to one’s rice bowl. 

No one is therefore exempted from this effect because it is in our nature to want to protect that which we have greatly been benefiting/profiting from, whether it is a costly purchase we had recently made or an organization we have given up many years of our life to build up. 

When we are beholden to an edifice, we become that edifice, an integral part of it. And when things go suspiciously wrong, we unknowingly give the responsible part of ourselves to the irresponsible part of the whole. The sum of the parts thus swallows whole the individual parts itself and the two become indistinguishable.

When that becomes a reality, even the best of us as leaders becomes a tool or a means to its end. And as RZIM has shown, the irreparable damage to the faith is even deeper as offices worldwide struggle to remain open with the decision to remove “RZ” from RZIM. 

Sadly, this is the extent of the irreparable damage done to the faith when one protects the rice bowl instead of mustering up the courage to break it because the elements it has been receiving can no longer hold true. Here is what the spokesperson for RZIM has to say: -

“The board’s trust in Ravi led to no further action being taken. With broken hearts, we now see this trust was completely misguided and misplaced, and we are sorry. There were no other situations or cases reported to the Singapore board at that time or subsequently, which raised any suspicion of wrong-doing.” (spokesperson for RZIM). 

Indeed, without hearts broken, you will never have the heart to break your rice bowl for God. 

It is in fact ironic that even in a statement like the one above, the leadership is still able to say that “there were no other situations or cases reported to the Singapore board at that time or subsequently, which raised any suspicion of wrong-doing.” 

Alas, what does it take to slay the dragon of the cult of personality, if inappropriately holding a woman’s hand in public, appearing to be intimate in a Singapore hotel, doesn’t put one on notice of possible misconduct? 

And yes, it could very well be a misunderstanding, but to kill any desire stillborn for an inquiry because RZ said so, or because ”there were no other situations or cases” before and after, or because such “derogatory remarks” would not glorify the Lord, is what contributes to the indestructibility of the rice bowl. 

If you need a clearer case of rice-bowl leadership, here is an extract of the investigation into RZ’s sexual misconduct. 

“At an all-staff virtual meeting in January 2018, after significant details of the Thompson communications had been made public, Mr. Zacharias offered explanations that many staff members found nonsensical. But some staff members reported to us that when they expressed doubts about Mr. Zacharias’s story, they were ignored, marginalized, and accused of disloyalty.”

That is the main issue when the body of Christ becomes a church, and when the church becomes readily and concretely identified with its human leadership because of the numerical and monetary growth the leadership is raking it in. 

Often, when it reaches that point, the Christ in the body is quietly removed, so that the body is taken over by its human leadership. This body-snatching sleight-of-hand is always very discreetly done and members, even leaders, would scarcely notice. 

And because of the by-stander effect and the process of deindividuation, where the sum of its parts takes over the parts, none is the wiser or is courageous enough to call out the crook insidiously embodied in the cult of personality. 

And this is scary because very much like the license to kill that Mr Bond holds, RZ and the many like him are handed over, in the poisoned chalice of leadership, the license to do as one pleases because to even think of doing otherwise would be to cause “irreparable damage to parties concerned and the organization” and to the glory of the Lord. 

...and that is the lesson a genuine believer must never forget when it comes to a leader using God as a means to his end.

 

Church and the devout's misdirection.

This morning, someone I know for decades wrote to me. That friend said that she’d met an ex-church worker. That ex-church worker had been working for church for decades and said it was a wake-up experience. This is that person’s own words as expressed: -

"I came out of the darkest pit. I am no longer a Christian. I am a free thinker". 

Ironically, it seems like that person has found the truth, and it had set that person free, at least free from the “darkest pit”. 

After hearing that, my friend stood there in shock, speechless. Me too. I read that and it took a while before I snapped out of it.

I however needed to write this note this morning to set the record straight. And the record has always been that we pay the price when we mistake the Church for Christ. That is the price not of the Cross, but the price of a devout’s misdirection. 

This reminded me of the sad City Harvest saga. It took a trial of many years, and many lives and faith destroyed, before the leaders came to their senses and apologised. 

As Peter denied Christ thrice before he bowed in utter remorse, it took the head of City Harvest that many times, three that is, before he ceased all struggles and accepted the verdict. But by then, many, I believe, had come out of their own “darkest pit” and...well, became free? 

Returning to the price of a devout’s misdirection, we are all never too innocent when we are embroiled in our own church’s saga. I always believe that humanity itself is already a struggle to make ends meet, that is, to untie the Gordian knot of our own unmaking as we confront the common temptations in the different contexts in which they unravel before us. 

But when you light the match of religiosity and toss it carelessly into the rapid kerosene river of the mess that we are struggling with, that is, the hypocrisy, the pride, the lust for power and the ego, what you get is an institutional inferno that perpetuates itself indefinitely. 

Alas, truth be told, the church is supposed to be the bride of Christ. That much is clear. But this is one bride that has her own issues; some of which are deep, dark ones that seldom see the light of day. 

Let me nevertheless make this controversial statement, and it is this: the rise of a leader is often taken to mean that it is an anointing of and from God. That is another bold presumption over the long and convoluted history of church leadership. 

But let’s face it, the rise of a leader can be for many reasons, and for some, the predominant reason can be one other than an anointing of and from God. Or it may start with that, in the Spirit, but end midway in the flesh. That is, to me, is one of the manifest symptom of a devout’s misdirection. 

And for this sacred reason, it is indeed a blessing for a leader to start in His Spirit, persevere no less in His Spirit, and complete the race gaining the crown of Life, yes, in His Spirit. 

Let me return to my point about misdirection above, and let me ask you this: which came first, Trump’s Office of the President or God’s anointing? In my view, it is (most of the time) the former. The office of the President brings about the coveted legitimacy. And the anointing is therefore its afterthought.

So, by default, he or she who enters that office is deemed anointed, not the other way round. It is the chicken-and-the-egg quandary all over again. But the difference, in the context of a country and a church, is that one is an academic teaser, while the other concerns lives, thousands, if not millions of them. That’s the sin of misattribution, the close cousin of misdirection. 

When Christ declared to Peter that upon this rock, I will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail, made no mistake about it, He is not referring to a human means to a glorified end. He is however talking about a Godly means to a Godly end. Any other way conceived by men is no more than men building their own tower of babel to reach not the One who created us in His image, but to reach the ones who create gods in their own image.

This is the mark of a devout’s misdirection. It is as insidious as it is deluded. For the price of the Cross is not in building the church for all to marvel. It is in the building of the temple within us, so that all could be transformed by the power of His name that we bear. Make no mistake about that, because committing that mistake is the allure of the pit that turns ever darker every time we tell ourselves otherwise.

 

Have an overcoming mid-week. God bless.

 

My talk with a church member - authenticity.

I had a good talk with a church member recently. It was about the church. 

Covid-19 has indeed changed the way we do church. It has challenged how we make the connection with people. When you take away the weekly physical mass gathering, what becomes of the church? When the numbers are down to five, when only zoom is allowed, how do we relate to one another? Are we then taking a walk down memory lane to the time when Jesus ministered to just the defining twelve, spending his life and most intimate hours with them? 

I felt that when I talked to the church member, what remains unchanged before and after Covid is the brokenness of a life struggling for authenticity in the faith. Whether you are in a crowd belting out catchy worship songs or attending a cell group in someone’s home, that brokenness is readily identifiable in a world that has become more confounding than ever. 

For this reason, I feel that the church should stop pretending to be a place where they put the Christian ideology before the Christian community, however good the intentions are. My qualms are not against the latter, but the obsession of the former. 

Sometimes we can worship the idea of a thing more than the thing itself. We then see a life/soul through the lens of professionalism instead of the lens of Calvary, where not all brokenness demands healing, not all sorrow can be prayed away, and not all personal gratification is about getting what you want; for sometimes, it is about receiving just the opposite of that, and then demonstrating the cultivated fruit of the Spirit within us.

Pastor Charles Swindoll once said: "The church was never meant to be a "professional organization". We'll let the world have all of those. The church is not a slick, efficient corporation with a cross stuck on its roof. It is a ministry. We do not look to the government for support or to the state for direction. We don't seek the counsel of Wall Street for financial suggestions. We have one Head, the Lord Jesus Christ. We do not rely on any earthly organization or some rich individuals to sustain the ministry. The church is a spiritual entity, built up and supported by its Founder, Jesus, who promised to build His church."" 

Now, I am not saying that we should not seek after righteousness embodied in Christ, the kind that results in an overcoming life, but what I am concerned is that that road often leads us to become complacent with efficiency, dispensing with one impersonal scripture after another, rather than finding peace, assurance and comfort notwithstanding the uncertainty and unpredictability of a broken life that is embarking on a journey that is not meant for quick fixes. 

Alas, the paradoxes of our belief are that sorrow and joy, pain and growth, and faith and doubt are not mutually exclusive. At most times, they are mutually empowering if we see beyond the vain struggles to make human sense of it. These borrowed words of Theologian Ray Anderson make the same point: “Prayer is not a means of removing the unknown and unpredictable elements in life, but rather a way of including the unknown and unpredictable in the outworking of the grace of God in our lives.” 

Here, I recall what Benny Hinn once said. He recounted that his own 11-year-old daughter had a difficult time figuring him out. In an interview, he said, "One day she asked me a question that absolutely blew me away - from my own child! "Daddy, who are you? That man up there (onstage), I don't know." He added, "If my own child is asking that, surely the whole world is asking that." I guess we are all asking ourselves that: “Who am I?” 

When we lead in a church, or as leaders in a ministry, who are we? Are we projecting what we want others to see, the part of us that avoids looking weak, looking broken and looking defeated? Is our optimism too contrived because we are still struggling with our own insecurities to be candid with our members? 

From his book The Emotionally Healthy Church, Pastor Peter Scazzero once made this candid observation about leadership in a church. “We can be spiritually mature while remaining emotionally immature.” He then went on to list the following frailties of humanity: -

* You can be a dynamic, gifted speaker for God in public and be an unloving spouse and parent at home.

* You can function as a church board member or pastor and be unteachable, insecure and defensive.

* You can memorize entire books of the New Testament and still be unaware of your depression and anger, even displacing it on other people.

* You can fast and pray a half-day a week for years as a spiritual discipline and constantly be critical of others, justifying it as discernment.

* You can lead hundred of people in a Christian ministry while driven by a deep personal need to compensate for a nagging sense of failure.

* You can pray for deliverance from the demonic realm when in reality you are simply avoiding conflict, repeating an unhealthy patten of behavior traced back to the home in which you grew up.

Alas, I recall 2 Corinthians 12:10 which reads, “For when I am weak, then I am strong.” Sadly, for those who privately believe in their own invulnerability, or at least struggle to keep up with appearances, it is a case of “for when I am weak, then I am not strong.” 

So, I return to the church member I spoke to. The cry for authenticity is real and I resonated with what the member had to say. It was also a cry for leaders to unmask themselves, to show their cracks, so that light can come through. 

Let me leave you with this poem by John Newton about enduring spiritual maturity and how God works in ways most disagreeable to our human expectations.

“I ask the Lord that I might grow

In faith, and in love, and every grace,

Might more of his salvation know

And seek more earnestly his face.

I hoped that in some favoured hour

At once He’d answer my request,

And by His love’s constraining power

Subdue my sins, and give me rest.

Instead of this, He made me feel

The hidden evils of my heart;

And let the angry powers of hell

Assault my soul in every part.”

 

Eugene Peterson - the Mess Part 1.

I recall a time when the late Pastor Eugene H. Peterson was asked by a young woman in his Church, “What do you like best about being a pastor?” 

He said. “The mess”. Yes, he said that - the mess. That’s what came out of his mouth, unplugged. Later, he clarified: “Well, not exactly a mess, but coming upon something unexpected that I don’t know how to handle, where I feel inadequate. Another name for it is miracle that doesn’t look like a miracle but the exact opposite of miracle. A slow recognition of life, God’s life, taking form in a person and context, in words and action that takes me off-guard.”

He added: “Theologian Karl Rahner was once asked if he believed in miracles. His reply? “I live on miracles – I couldn’t make it through a day without them.” Still another name for it is mystery. Pastors have ringside seats to this kind of thing. Maybe everyone does, but I often feel that pastors get invited into intimacies that elude a more functional and performance way of life.””

Imagine one who wrote countless of books, won a Gold Medallion for The Message: The Bible in Contemporary Language, has a degree in Philosophy and several honorary doctoral degrees under his belt, and founded a church in 1962, “Christ Our King Presbyterian Church” in Maryland, which he had served for 29 years before retiring in 1991, and all that vast and deep experiences compressed into this answer: “the mess, the miracle, and the slow recognition of life, God’s life, taking form in a person and context, in words and action that takes me off-guard.” 

(Off guard? Who and what can still surprise such a towering intellectual?) 

Anyway, I believe that kind of miracle, that kind of unravelling and unfolding, the furnace-defying life, takes a lifetime to minister to a lifetime. 

Alas, there’s no overnight changes. Be extremely wary of it. For a nocturnal turn of a life is largely superficial, mostly transient, if not wholly deceptive. True transformation is always about the anonymity of small changes, because sunlight burns when it is concentrated; but it nurtures when it is moderated, carefully measured, like a silent dance of trust, patience and hope.

The farmer knows that intimately. It is a truth that is timeless for him. He has no illusion about seeds. They are all the same. Their smallness is never alluring. Their uniformity doesn’t inspire hope. 

A life like a seed is like that. It is messy. It is unsightly. It is even deformed. But the miracle is not in that seen state, that unripe condition. The miracle is in the slow recognition of a life, that dedication to press on, to bring that life into fruition, into the light. 

For a farmer does not plant a nondescript seed and then return in an hour, clear the soil, exposing the seed, and expect a harvest. If he keeps doing that, he will kill that seed, smother a life. 

Nothing grows in haste. Overnight changes is a myth. Life’s trajectory cannot end with one smug stroke. It needs to be drawn against the axis of time, hope, patience, resilience, and most of all, love.

Jesus’ parables is all about that; it is about a seed that wasn’t, that shouldn’t, that couldn’t, yet, in his hand, a life fully dedicated to another, that same seed bore a garden, and that garden enriched many lives. Indeed, gratitude begets gratitude because grace abounding transforms even a life most unlikely. 

That is, to me, the highest definition of what it means to be pastoral, that is, a shepherd who tends to his flock in the most mundaneness of life, yet at the same time, surrounded by the most miraculous beauty of one’s life-source. That is why a true shepherd is never overwhelmed by circumstances because as he embraces his sheep, he knows deep within that he is in turn embraced by the one who tends to his life.

At the end of the day, as a pastor, it is never just about solving a problem, attending to an issue, fulfilling a target, astounding a crowd, or achieving worldly recognition. It is however about nurturing a life, even if no one ever gets to know about it. 

The shepherd doesn’t care whether his rescue of a sheep would be photographed and published, archived for all to marvel. All he cares about is the rescue, even for only one who has gone astray. When a shepherd is obsessed with the fame of a rescue, he like the impatient farmer who couldn’t wait for an overnight harvest, kills the soul as well as his own. 

Let me end with the good pastor’s words (Eugene Peterson), something we can all learn from: -

“Incrementally, without noticing what I was doing, I had been shifting from being a pastor dealing with God in people’s lives to treating them as persons dealing with problems in their lives. I was not being their pastor. I could have helped and still been their pastor. But by reducing them to problems to be fixed, I omitted the biggest thing of all in their lives, God and their souls, and the biggest thing in my life, my vocation as pastor.”

“I began to assess what was going on. Unaware of what I was doing, I had been making a subtle shift in attitude toward the people to whom I was pastor – and I had been doing it for several months. I was trading in the complexities of spiritual growth in congregation for the reduced dimensions of addressing a problem that could be named and understood. I had been doing this quite a lot.”

Indeed, not everything that could be named and understood cries out for a solution. At the risk of reducing a life to a religious label for targeted resolution, oftentimes, a companion in another’s life journey is silent, and the greatest comfort or encouragement one receives is the sound his companion’s feet makes, just to know he is nearby. 

E.M. Bound once said: “The (pastor)…is not a professional man; his ministry is not a profession; it is a divine institution; a divine devotion.” And if I may add, his church is not in the walls he hides behind. Neither the hierarchies he has built for himself that tower in babellian wonders. His church however is in the heart of every sheep that walks into his life. That heart is open, wall-less, and it is not about trading problems for solutions, but one’s vulnerability for another.