A pastor friend shared this with me:
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From a book I’m reading:
“I’m not a believer in the idea that unhealthy pastors get themselves into leadership looking for opportunities like this; rather, I think that the leadership model we have in our evangelical world incentivizes grandiosity.”
— Land of My Sojourn: The Landscape of a Faith Lost and Found by Mike Cosper
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I wrote him back:
Yes, very much so. One way or another each of us is part of a "machine," an ultimately impenetrable psycho-social complex of learned values, postures, signals, rituals, taboos and, most broadly speaking, "performances" that shape everything from the tones of our voices (far more culturally-imprinted than most people would care to imagine) to the overall public persona we may well believe is "the real me."
The machine takes on an infinite number of forms, from the world's broadest national "cultures" to all their subcultures right down to every local community, workplace, religious and family construct
(Even a culture that prizes "authenticity" above all else is a machine prompting people to certain performances of "authenticity" that are nonetheless machine-prompted performances).
Now, is all of that unqualifiedly bad, dooming us to existence as either mindless automatons or perpetual hypocrites? Of course not. I'd have long ago despaired of life if I believed that.
Most of us sincerely try to do the best we can, given the psycho-social machine we've been "stuck" with, just as we do given the body and mind we've been "stuck" with, for better or worse.
The healthiest thing we can do is admit there's a "machine" there and to approach the constellation of machines each of us is inevitably part of on the premise of choice. You might say, sovereignly deigning to choose which of the patterns we will go along with, and to what extent and to what purpose, and which simply do not interest us and, so, we will not be part of.
That is perhaps the greatest taboo, one that is so implicit that most dare not allow themselves even to conceive of it, i.e., that we have any other option than to live in unreflective conformity to the "pattern" that engulfs us. But it's a taboo that is psycho-spiritually toxic; for real authenticity we must summon up the courage to break it, and break it where it counts first and foremost: in the sacred privacy of our own consciousness.
And I haven't even touched upon the sin question--perhaps, though, I have, just without using the word.
The Kingdom of God is, ultimately, the realm of unbearably (at least, to us now) unfiltered, unadulterated divine-human authenticity. Where the "machine" is so essential, genuine and intrinsic to unimpeded, unimpinged Life that it is not a machine but the antithesis of everything "machine" means. There is no machine, only Love.
Machines are complicated, but Love is infinitely, eternally complex.
I recently heard an explanation of the difference between complicated and complex systems that was brilliant. A complicated system is predictable but a complex one isn't. A car engine is complicated, a computer is complicated, the Hubble telescope is complicated, and they're all produced to perform predictably. But the human mind is complex. Creation itself, down to the "quark" level, turns out to be complex beyond comprehension and terrifyingly unpredictable. God is Infinite Complexity, in the simplicity of Love.
He is also terrifying. And holy.
The ultimate divine-human complexity of authentic Love in the flesh was crucified by a world horrified at how He shattered our sacred taboos. He was too holy to be endured. His holiness insulted our Machine. His Sovereign Choice, lived out in moment-to-moment purpose and intention, violated the machine's requisite of unconscious conformity. "You're not allowed to think about these things, as if you're somebody special with some right to choose; no, you go along with the program because you have to. Who do you think you are, after all?"
The world's crucifixion of Christ was its collective scream, "Who do you think you are?!" By rising, He said, "This is who I am." And He knew that all along. Never needed the machine's affirmation.
His freedom and prerogative are the pattern, the spirit, of the kingdom, of authentic life and love. None of us will ever in the space of our earthly lives attain the perfection of that authenticity, but we can, in Christ, travel light-years, as it were, in its direction, on the wings of His Spirit. If we're willing to pay the price.
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Closing "tag":
Maybe one of a pastor's most daunting challenges is to live out, and pastorally (teachingly) live out the example of, genuine authenticity. Sorry if that last phrase seems tautological, but isn't there so much "authenticity" prized in our culture that is really quite pre-packaged, pre-digested, clichéd and formulaic? So I qualify "authenticity" with "genuine," attempting to get past the clichés.
Of course, to attain such authenticity isn't only a pastor's calling. It's every Christian's. But a pastor takes on the immense duty to teach, and that's not just speaking from a pulpit on Sunday. No wonder Scripture says, "Let not many of you be teachers."
Some Greek philosopher, wasn't it, said "The unexamined life isn't worth living." Seismically true. To which I must add the good Christian news: "But we have the mind of Christ." So...examine away, in the freedom, hope and power of the Risen Lord.
