The Machine-Made Men* of Christendom: A contemplation on separating professional Christians from pastoral positions

Keep turning those wrenches, and maybe we'll let you
come back again tomorrow to turn them again.

The Catastrophic Career Track

In the final year of my undergraduate education, the Rev. Richard C. Taylor, Jr. spoke during chapel services of the difficulty in recruiting anyone to serve smaller congregations as solo pastors. It was the first time, as a young Christian, that I had been confronted with “the traditional career track” of becoming a staff pastor, then working through the “ranks” of being an assistant, then associate, and then perhaps a senior pastor in some moderately sized congregation, before hoping to “hit it big” as leader of one of the larger staffs, with the consequent blessings of being allowed to serve on the committees and boards of district and denominational leadership.

It was shortly thereafter that I began to explain to anyone who would listen that I had no desire to eventually become the “associate pastor for left handed senior citizens whose names begin with ‘A’ through ‘M.’” Most of what I saw amongst those enmeshed in the sociopolitical structures of the ecclesiastical workplace made me wonder if some of the office workers even remembered that they once aspired to be pastors. Anyone familiar with my own “career track” knows that I have successfully turned off onto several of the isolated spurs that rarely, if ever, allow for a return to the centers of influence, populated as they are by the personnel of multi-staff religious corporations (or their local franchises) for which most seminarians are trained. To some who imagined me destined for an ascending career of ministerial success (Thanks for believing in me, Mom.), the path I have followed culminates only at a sign that reads “career-catastrophe.” Let me explain, then, why I rejoice at being privileged to be who, what, and where I am today.

And don't worry, if you get caught up in the gears...
well, just keep turning those wrenches.

Consider the Collateral Damage to Congregations, Collegians, and (eventually) Clergy

In over three decades of ministry I have become acquainted with the effects of this career-track system on seminarians and Bible college students and the congregations they serve, during and after their education. I have watched as dozens of potential interns gravitate into each of the larger congregations in the areas around our schools. I have seen those students compete to serve as one of half dozen or more helpers with one of the youth pastors (if the student possesses sufficient charisma and/or physical attractiveness) or worship leaders (if they have vocal or guitar skills) or Sunday School Superintendent (if they can’t find a position in the youth or worship ministries).

Don't believe those stories about how some have been
swallowed up by the machine. That happens so rarely...

This pattern is of great benefit to the religious professionals staffing those few “magnet” churches. In fact, it is essential to their operation since most program-driven religious organizations find fewer and fewer willing volunteers available, even as their attendance grows. This paradox results because more and more of the staff’s time is required for the logistics of event planning, program promotion, and executive intercommunication (i.e., making sure staff in all the other programs know what you’re doing, where, when, and requiring whose participation and/or permission). The process also leaves less and less time for identifying the potential passions, gifts, and experiences of attendees, only rarely connecting some of them with one another such that they might “grow up in all things into Him who is the Head, even Christ.” Thus, rather than equipping (better translated “aligning” or “structuring”) the members of a local church into a cohesive organism, we settle for organizing opportunities for them to more frequently attend, invite others, and thus increase the statistics that ensure our continued progress up the corporate ladder.

Don't forget that it's the machine that keeps us fed!

Upon graduation, however, even the best-received among those interns and unpaid assistants face a simple but daunting equation. Most churches are not multi-staff. Those that are (even those who turn over their pastors at the national average of two years or less) require far fewer new staff members than the number of new candidates graduating. (And they may simply choose to add more interns.) Therefore, further contributing to the lowered average tenure of North American pastors, students who are acclimated to serving as part of a team in a division of a department under one of several pastors…if they do find a ministry position at all after graduation…are now grateful to be allowed to serve as the “much too young and inexperienced” solo (if not bi-vocational, or church-planting, or unpaid assistant) pastor. This position is often in a “much too small and insufficiently-ambitious” congregation that is unlikely to immediately spring into rapid-growth mode—further devastating the aspirations of a first-time pastor destined to be disappointed (“is this the best church the denomination thinks I deserve?”) and disappointing (“is this the best pastor the denomination thinks we deserve?”), not to mention entirely unprepared for the kinds of pastoral ministry required by the life-on-life nature of equipping/aligning/structuring the saints, not the staff, for the work of ministry.

The Occasions for This Reflection

What brings these observations to mind? Several things, actually.

Never forget. All it takes to be a leader
is to have a crowd behind you.

I recently read the introduction to Stephen E. Fowl’s Theological Interpretation of Scripture in which he bemoans the lack of interaction between seminary professors specializing in theology and those specializing in Biblical studies. He ascribes the division to the growing “professionalism” and further specialization that rewards deeper and more esoteric explorations within one’s field, rather than the mutuality among faculty members who might recognize the need for one another’s participation in providing a more holistic approach to determining “What would Jesus have me do?” (Note that I’m inserting my own preferred phrase for that pursuit.) If you’ve read this far, you can imagine what notes I wrote in the margins about professionalism and specialization among the staff members in corporately focused religious organizations.

If you work hard enough, long enough, then you'll
eventually have a place of your own!

Then came a discussion with a seminary professor over the relative lack of interest and attention given to spiritual warfare in the life of the church. “They don’t seem to see it,” was his observation. I offered that there seemed to be several conjoined factors that caused this. Let me expand on those for a moment here. First, spiritual warfare occurs only where there is a threat to the enemy of our souls that the church might make something resembling a spiritual advance into his territory. In most religious organizations, this seems unlikely to occur. Second, spiritual warfare occurs in the lives of individuals and families, not in the consumer-oriented habits of attendees and homogenous people-groups. Therefore, where it does occasionally occur, it would be invisible to most of the program directors, event planners, and content providers staffing those religious organizations that claim the majority of Christians on an average Sunday. Third, though, is the most difficult to admit. Even in those congregations where a servant of Christ and others has been forced to actually pastor the individuals and families of that community, that servant is likely to be so grossly underprepared by previous experiences and immensely overwhelmed by the ministerial expectations, that they can barely accomplish what A.B. Simpson derided as “the regular work of the ministry.”

E.M. Bounds
He has a better idea.

Finally, I am prompted to these reflections by a decision to revisit E.M. Bounds. My daughter and I are slowly reading through each of his books in The Complete Works of E.M. Bounds, and reflecting on each chapter in our blogs. (Hers can be found here.) The first book, Power through Prayer, published originally in 1913, begins with the then-appropriate assumption that he could safely address ministerial staff as “Men of Prayer Needed.” I’m sure I’ll have opportunity in this process to reflect my own proactive egalitarianism (that means I think God calls both men and women to serve Him in offices, roles, positions, giftedness, and whatever other categories into which some would segregate them). And I already see the paradox in what Bounds stirs up in me, and my complete support of my daughter in her position amidst a multi-staff religious organization as Director of K.I.D.S. Ministries on the U-20 Leadership Team. This should be interesting.

Where Bounds Abounds

The reason that Bounds has helped to stir up my concerns about life-on-life pastoral ministry is that even in a small, rural, independent, non-denominational community church with exactly one full-time paid pastor (me), I am tempted to be professional. I oversee four ministry coordinators directly, and consult and/or advise at least a dozen others in various positions of ministry leadership. I serve on other teams in our community, and through several seminary and other educational communities, too. There are times when I wish my schedule were consumed by office work, meetings with similarly-indoctrinated and educated staff members, and having my meetings and appointments confirmed by a competent administrative assistant. But those times are thankfully rare, and they vanish quickly as soon as there is a need for hands-on, life-on-life pastoral ministry. Bounds briefly admonishes those of us at risk of becoming caught up in the religious machine (even that one that existed in 1913!). But he is most adamant about how the work we do, even in the preaching of the gospel, is secondary to the effects of our life on the lives of those around us. Whatever other functions we may be forced to fulfill, whatever size team we serve on, and whatever small segment of Christ’s body falls into our category of responsibility, what Christ calls us to be is nothing more or less than human persons “whom the Holy Ghost can use—[people] of prayer.”

More to come! But now, I get to read what Bounds stirred my daughter up into writing.

Life-and-Death Differences: How do I know whether I need Hospice, Palliative Care, Terminal Sedation, or Physician-Assisted Suicide?

Doesn't it seem like there should be
at least one more option than this?

Those of us who discuss dying on a regular basis sometimes forget that terms we use very specifically can have a much broader range of meaning for most other (i.e., “normal”) people. For example, grieving, mourning, and being bereaved are often used interchangeably as synonyms (i.e., words with essentially the same meaning). Is it helpful to identify the particular definition of each one? I believe it is, especially for those who are experiencing all three simultaneously, and trying to find a safe course to navigate through them. Technically, then, but briefly: Bereavement = the condition of having experienced a significant loss. Grief = the involuntary reaction we experience when we are bereaved. Mourning = the voluntary actions we take that help to process our grief.

Vocabulary for the Dying

If the terms describing the experience of loss and its aftermath are important to distinguish from one another, then it is even more important to do so when the terms apply to our own experience as an imminently dying patient. Most of us would like to know only what it means to have symptoms, receive a diagnosis, follow a course of curative treatments, and be restored to health. And yet, the reality is that most of us, either in our own life or the lives of those closest to us, will hear some form of that dreaded sentence from our doctors: “I’m sorry. There’s nothing more we can do to make you well.” What are we supposed to do when “there’s nothing more we can do?”

The important distinction, even when you are diagnosed with a terminal disease, is that while there is nothing else to be done that will cure you, there is far more that can be done to ensure that you continue to live the best possible life until that terminal disease (or some other cause) ends your life. The next step, especially for those whose terminal or chronic illness is likely to end their lives within six months or so, is usually a referral to “Hospice.”

Well, this is a third option, but it's not exactly
what hospice care is all about.

Hospice: What it is, and why.

The best definition of hospice says more about what it is not than what it is. “Hospice exists not to prolong your life, nor to hasten its end, but to help you live until you die.” When curative measures are no longer possible, or desirable (since some patients find the treatments more difficult, debilitating, or even deadly than the disease), hospice can provide patients with symptom-management and pain relief throughout the natural, physical process of dying. But just as importantly, and sometimes more so, hospice provides support for the mental, emotional, social, and spiritual needs of the patient, their family, friends, caregivers, and others. The focus on a patient’s personal preferences includes determining how best to provide service in either the patient’s home or in a medical facility. The support for the many peripheral needs can include discussions with insurance providers, referrals to funeral planners, and coordination with the appropriate faith communities for spiritual support as well.

Why am I so concerned that you understand what hospice is and does? First, you or someone you know will likely need hospice services someday. Second, there are other alternatives becoming more popular, primarily because people are unaware that hospice care is available to them. And third, I want you to understand what hospice is and does because I hear too often, “If we’d only known everything hospice could do, we would have called you in much earlier.” Sadly, I also have to hear people say, “I wish we’d known about hospice when our loved one was dying.”

At least when it's prescribed in California,
it still has to be suicide, not homicide (so far).

“Turn Out the Lights; the Party’s Over”

To fully understand what hospice is and does (and isn’t and doesn’t), there is another pair of terms that are often confused (Palliative/Terminal Sedation and Physician-Assisted Suicide), and a third (the Dual Effect) that needs to be clarified as well.

These distinctions are very important, especially for those exposed to recent references in popular Christian books. In Rob Moll’s The Art of Dying, he quotes from Dallas Willard’s The Divine Conspiracy (before repeating the phrase as his own perspective) to portray hospice as employing “the widespread use of heavy sedation.” No wonder, then, that some patients, friends, and family members imagine that once hospice service begins the patient’s conscious existence becomes a thing of the past. But in actual practice, even what is called the “dual effect” of a patient becoming unconscious (or dying) as a side-effect of sufficient doses of pain medication is rare. When it does occur, it results from attempts to relieve distressing symptoms and/or unbearable pain. Further, it is almost exclusively occurring at the very end of a terminal illness’s progression. And yet, even when diseases have done nearly all they can do to us, hospices routinely accommodate the preferences of patients who, willing to endure higher levels of pain than others might, want to stay as awake and alert as possible. This is sometimes a temporary preference that allows, for example, one last visit with distant relatives or friends, and sometimes a distinct desire to experience as much as possible of the life remaining to them.

But there are, occasionally, physical symptoms that are “intractable.” Sometimes the extraordinary panoply of medications and techniques available are unable to provide the level of symptom management and/or pain relief that the patient desires. Palliative/Terminal Sedation (usually referred to as either Palliative Sedation or Terminal Sedation) is necessary for those patients who can only be made comfortable by rendering them unconscious. This is “palliative” in that it is a means of relieving pain and/or other symptoms. It is “terminal” because, unless there are measures to provide nutrition and hydration (food and water) artificially, the patient does not regain consciousness. Death occurs within a matter of days once there is no further fluid intake.

Is Palliative/Terminal Sedation, then, a form of Physician-Assisted Suicide? Some would see any claim to a difference between them as merely splitting hairs. In practice, however, there is a vast difference between the prescription of pain relief that may result in diminished or lack of consciousness (as can be a side-effect of effective Palliative Care), the prescription of unconsciousness as the only means of relieving pain (Palliative/Terminal Sedation) and the proactive ending of one’s life in order to preemptively avoid whatever symptoms may or may not accompany the progression of a terminal disease (Physician-Assisted Suicide).

So, we have made some progress.
(In grammar, punctuation and spelling, too, it seems.)

One Last, Unfortunate Distinction

While all hospices provide palliative care (relieving pain and symptoms), not all palliative care should be confined to hospice. There are patients for whom symptom-management and pain-relief should be provided, even as they pursue curative care. This is not currently the case for most patients. There are hopes for change, and some signs of progress. But currently both public and private insurers are hesitant to cover palliative measures for non-terminal patients. Still, palliative specialization in the medical community continues to be developed in anticipation of one day overcoming the legislative and regulatory roadblocks to a more enlightened public policy.

This bears careful attention as the push toward suicide continues to grow (as with California’s recent passage of the End of Life Options Act). If our society continues to advocate for hastening the deaths of the terminally ill, we are morally obligated to allow all patients the option of pursuing a cure for their disease and the restoration of their health. Unfortunately, patients too often abandon that curative care due to the debilitating side-effects or devastatingly difficult life-adjustments necessitated by otherwise effective treatments. As the proponents of Physician-Assisted Suicide disregard hospice, offering instead a “get well or die” paradigm, every opportunity should be provided to those patients who would seek to get well, were they not asked to endure torturous treatments unmitigated by palliative care.

Selfish or Selfless, I’m Still Self-Centered: Where to turn when all you can see is you.

Sometimes, all I can see is me.

Noel Schaak, a friend serving Christ as an educator in the northern-most of Jefferson’s counties, recently posted a blog entry entitled “Selflessness.” (You can read the full piece here.) In it he writes, “At the heart of sin is selfishness and selfishness has a way of perpetuating itself.  A continual turning inward spiraling into infinite emptiness.” The question I find myself asking in response to that is, “How do I fix this, without further turning inward to examine my faults, even my selfishness itself?” The first step, I believe, is to turn elsewhere for guidance. The pattern and purpose set for accomplishing good is externally located. As many who know me can attest, I regularly seek an answer to this first question.

What would Jesus have me do?

For many, finding the answer to this question is a matter of moral introspection that relies on lists of prohibitions. The most popular of those lists, of course, is the Ten Commandments. (Exodus 20:1-17 –  Don’t worship false gods. Don’t make idols. Don’t take God’s name in vain. Don’t work on the Sabbath. Don’t dishonor your parents. Don’t murder. Don’t commit adultery. Don’t steal. Don’t lie. Don’t covet.) This list is simple, though never easy. And there are several other lists of vices to avoid (e.g., Galatians 5:19-21; Colossians 1:5,8).

Probably not the question you want to ask...
aloud.

Though all the subsequent lists fall into the general categories of The Ten, two things become clearer with each new list we examine. First, if we achieved immeasurable success in this negatively-measured godliness, maintaining our avoidance of all these sins, we still could not revisit our past and prevent what has already occurred. Second, within or accompanying each list of “don’ts,” there are positive activities to be pursued. This prevents us from spending our time and effort on addressing the damages we have already caused, lest we fail to accomplish that which is ours to do today.

Despairing of self-correction, we may find that the very real sense of our failure causes us to turn inward even more severely. Instead of selfishly lavishing accolades and extravagances upon ourselves, though, we cripple our souls by criticizing everything we find there. Worse, in doing so, we also turn away from any real answer to the second question I regularly ask, which is only answerable by pursuing the first question.

What would Jesus have me be?

In Ephesians 2:10 we learn that we are not created in order to fulfill tasks that God requires to be accomplished. We are not the workers He needs to fill the factory’s quotas, or to finish the farm’s chores. The tasks He sets before us, instead, are designed to help us find, fulfill, and find our fulfillment in being what we were created to be: His “masterwork” (poiema, also translated “workmanship” or “handiwork”). In living out the life He sets before us, we discover more and more in our passions, gifts, and experiences, often finding that what we are being made to be aligns with what we find so fulfilling and effective to do.

Noel Schaak

Toward this focus on being and doing together, there are two other commandments to consider. They are unique in several ways. First, they are among the shortest and simplest. Second, they are positively stated. And third, they encompass every other commandment God has ever included in His word. You could even say that they embody everything it means to be and do as we were created.

Jesus gives a two-fold answer to a singularly-important question in Matthew 22:36. “Teacher,” He is asked, “which is the greatest commandment in the Law?” Part one, the way Jesus phrases it, is to “love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.” Though it is translated “the second is like it,” the wording suggests that Jesus intended us to understand the rest of this one commandment as indivisible from any claim we make about loving God: “love your neighbor as yourself.”

The Lutheran Extrospection

If, as my friend Noel writes, the selfishness at the root of my sin involves an introspection, “a continual turning inward spiraling into infinite emptiness,” our mutual mentor, Paul Louis Metzger, offers two directions in which to focus what I would call our “extrospection.” Dr. Metzger references “the gospel according to Luther” as a means of shifting our focus. “As we ascend to Christ in faith because of the outpouring of God’s love into our hearts (Romans 5:5), we are free to descend to our neighbor in love (See Luther’s early Reformation treatise, “Freedom of a Christian”). There is no need for self-concern. Like God who is for us, we are not free to exist for others, especially those who are marginalized.” (You can read the full text of his post, “The Crucified God Confronts Gendercide,” here.)

Paul Louis Metzger

Looking both upward and outward prevents me from self-consuming introspection and promotes the self-developing activities that arise from and fuel my passions, gifts, and experiences. Focusing on the love of God and His love of others enables me to be more of what God is continuing to create me to be. As I wrote in response to my friend Noel’s post, I find the same emphasis in the pattern Jesus gave us for our ongoing conversation with the Father.

Praying My Way Out of Self-Centeredness

When I pray as Jesus taught us, I am called to be occupied in seeking the hallowing of God’s name, the coming of His kingdom (which I see as a geographical and relational expansion, not merely a temporal anticipation of a future event) as synonymous with the doing of His will just as fully here and now as it will be then and there. To do this, however, I must be freed from the self-concern that seeks to ensure the basic human necessities of air, warmth, water, and food—and definitely from the self-interest that seeks to elevate my status and increase my inventory so as to further enhance the air, warmth, water, and food supplies I enjoy. So, I ask that He be the One to provide my sustenance (daily bread), my willingness to pursue relationality (forgiving on the basis of knowing our own need for forgiveness), and an awareness of the path through or past temptation (despite the predicaments perpetrated by the enemy of our souls). And I ask all this on the basis of my trust that He alone is in charge of me and mine and everything we may ever encounter, and solely worthy of being credited with all of it, always.

I think he's got it.

How does the Lord’s Prayer sound in your conversation with God? Does it turn you inward toward your shortcomings? Or does it focus you on the upward and outward calling of Jesus Christ, even as you trust Him for the provision and protection that would otherwise consume your attention?

I’d love to hear your thoughts.

The Imposter Syndrome and Other Untreatable Conditions

Passed along by my friend, Emily Hendrix,
this illustrates, for me, the struggle many of us face.

Does it help to know there is a name for your condition? Sometimes.

The Frustration of Undiagnosed Symptoms

Over the past few years, I have experienced a particular set of symptoms that strikes, inconveniently, for only between twenty-four and forty-eight hours in duration. Thankfully, I am debilitated by it for only about twelve of those hours. And whereas it had been happening more frequently, the increased severity of each attack has accompanied an increased interval between episodes. Still, there is a growing frustration since the average time between requesting and receiving an appointment with anyone in the medical community here in the remote mountains of northern California is between two and three weeks. So, attempting to diagnose what might have been happening a fortnight ago has proved to be an elusive objective.

Am I worried about what it might be? To some extent, yes. Certainly, of the seventeen or so potential diseases suggested by our friends at WebMD, MedLine, and the Symptom Checker on the Mayo Clinic’s site, none would be particularly welcome diagnoses. But when compared with the utter lack of diagnosis, at least there would be some comfort in knowing what treatment to pursue, or even that treatment were impossible. In fact, among my many conversations with the sick and dying, I have found ample testimony to this reality: it can be greatly liberating to know that there is nothing you are supposed to be doing about your disease, other than functioning the best you can, while you can, whenever you can.

Sometimes we feel like an imposter,
just because we don't quite measure up
to our perceptions of others.

The Freedom in Naming the Illness

Whatever frustrations I am experiencing regarding my physical health, they have until recently paled in comparison with certain aspects of my mental health. But there has been recent improvement on that front. Of course, we do face the same kinds of frustrations in seeking psychological diagnosis and treatment as we face in trying to see a physician around here. And actually the biggest element in the improvement has been the ability, finally, to name the greatest part of my struggle. In fact, I have found that many write on the subject, especially in regard to those of us pursuing advanced academic degrees. It apparently afflicts doctoral students the worst, not least because we are pursuing what many would call a “terminal” degree. (Though in my case, with a second doctorate still on the horizon…maybe I should call mine merely a “hospice-consult” degree.)

In any case, I strongly identify with what has been labeled “The Imposter Syndrome.” In short, I have allowed myself to vacillate between two aspects of pride. At times, I do overestimate the value of some of my abilities. That mode is actually helpful when called to intervene in crisis and trauma—an intercessor’s confidence is indispensible to those in need. More often, though, I underestimate my value as a person while simultaneously overestimating the eventual reaction people will have “once they realize who I really am.” The nightmare of being “discovered” persists despite the fact that I practice authenticity, transparency, and vulnerability almost constantly, and frequently annoyingly. Not only do I strongly recommend this to others, I sometimes enjoy the shock others experience when I pursue “playing with all the cards face-up on the table.” Not everyone wants to know every thought, every struggle, nor even every victory I experience. But if, in their discomfort with what I choose to share, they are encouraged to live their lives more openly, “being who they are,” then I still feel that even the worst of my “over-sharing” is a benefit to them (fulfilling the spirit and letter of Ephesians 4:29, which has long been a goal of mine).

To sum up, knowing that there is a name for this neurosis means that others experience it, too. It also helps to read the reflections of others so afflicted. The best treatment I have found is to allow myself to say aloud, “This is who I am.” Not to indulge my pride and hold myself in higher esteem than is appropriate, but neither to indulge my pride—just the same—and hold myself in lower esteem than is appropriate. Pride involves too much self-esteem just as much as too little. O, to be Goldilocks! and know what qualifies as being “just right.” But I feel I am getting there.

Even Greater Freedom in Naming My Faith

Now, about the physical disease, whatever it ends up being, about which I would ask you to pray.

You may have noticed that I did not name the symptoms I am experiencing. That is a result of the Pavlovian behavior reinforcement that causes me to wince at even the thought of asking fellow Christians to pray specifically and intelligently for any particular need. If you have never asked for prayer in a public worship service, or even a small study group, then you might be unfamiliar with the pattern. In short, any reassuring follow-up (that would later suggest that people actually had been praying for you) is extremely rare in comparison with experiencing the line that may form or even encircle you after the meeting in which you shared. These are not, generally, formed by people seeking to pray with you in that moment. No, these primarily include the amateur diagnosticians who recognize one or some of your symptoms as having some resemblance to those experienced by their friend or family member. What most often follows is a prescription to engage in and/or avoid whatever treatments or therapies did or did not restore their acquaintance to health. Still, this is far preferable to the gloomy prognosticians who recognize in your symptoms the path to dire consequences that befell their friend or family member. They seem unable to restrain themselves from describing in detail these consequences, whether they involve catastrophic dysfunction, cruel disfigurement, or culmination in death.

What does that have to do with the imposter syndrome? Plenty. Because the identity crisis within Christendom centers on this very issue. Many nominal Christians (i.e., those who claim the title of being “a Christian”) worry, and rightly so, about whether they really are a Christian—especially since there are so many competing definitions of what qualifies one to make such a claim. Usually, the solution to these existential doubts is offered by some well-meaning (or rabidly proselytizing) Christian or other—“If you were attending ‘The (Right) Church,’ then you would not be worried about being ‘A (Right) Christian.’” The correctness of any particular branch of Christianity’s vine, though, is variably defined, depending upon the venue. For some, the right church is a self-help society. Others see their purpose in being a political-action committee, or a moral-crusading cultural influence. I gravitate toward fellowshipping where there is a categorically-oriented doctrinal examination being pursued by a cadre of religious philosophers. But none of this means “we are the right church for you,” much less that you will be “A Right Christian” by attending with us.

So, what does make a church a church, and a Christian a Christian? At the risk of oversimplifying, let me suggest that at its core, no matter what accessorizing any Christian or church may choose as their particular style of “dressing-up” the gospel, we are called to be in a relationship with God through Christ. And if we claim to have a relationship, then we should be most clearly notable in our communication—our constant conversation within the most important relationship we will ever have. Whatever other “imposter” issues I may have, I have no problem, nor lack of confidence in saying, “I am a Christian.” How do I know? I converse with God. I do not merely talk about, nor only to God. But I engage in a dialogue that is enhanced by careful study of God’s word, illuminated as He has promised by His Holy Spirit, and made possible because of the atonement provided through the life, death, resurrection, and intercession of Jesus Christ.

So, if you struggle with the imposter syndrome with regard to your identification as a Christian, simply ask yourself, “How is the conversation going?” (And…when someone asks you to pray for them, remember that they usually mean for you to take up the matter in conversation with God.)

On Attending an Intentional Death: Some things to consider before you invite me to join your friends and family for your premature send-off

If all you can see is death,
then I would suggest you look more closely.

I was recently honored to consult on a blog post by my friend, Paul Louis Metzger, entitled “Lights Out: Shining a Light on Caring for the Dying in a Multi-Faith World.” (It can be found here.) He begins by asking, “What would you do if you were a chaplain or pastor or trusted friend given the honor of caring for someone of another faith tradition who is approaching death?” For some, there would be some complications, or obstacles that might prevent them from doing so. For me? Well, I have cared for many outside my faith community, including some whose beliefs differ greatly from my own. But recently, a similar question has been asked, and I now am the one facing the complications and obstacles.

The question is deceptively simple. Would you attend the patient’s death? The answer should not be all that complicated, either.

Can you make death out of life?
Certainly. But why would you?

After all, I have attended myriad deaths, from a variety of causes, in many different venues. As a hospice chaplain, most of the deaths have been serenely accommodated with a gathering of loved-ones clearly aware of the impending last breath. As a police chaplain and as a pastor, however, I have been present when life ended traumatically, amidst the valiant efforts of emergency medical professionals. In a hospital waiting room, I have notified next-of-kin of their loved-one’s death when it was our own law-enforcement officers who fired the fatal shots. I have left the bedside of the woman wounded by her suicidal son, just long enough to confirm that her husband, in the emergency suite next to hers, had not yet succumbed to his wounds. When he died a short time later, I was there to tell her so. I have participated as a first responder and in critical-incident stress debriefings with witnesses to horrific carnage literally on the front porch of police headquarters. There are more and more scenes that come to mind even as I write this, so before I lose track of my point, let me hope that I have clearly illustrated it. There are very few kinds of death that I have not already witnessed.

So, to my ears, the subtext of the deceptively simple question above is this: “Given that I have attended all these deaths under so many and widely-varied circumstances, why would there be any death from which I would choose to be absent? Especially if it is a patient or parishioner with whom I have an ongoing relationship?”

The complications and obstacles I face occur in the specific context of this simple question. My struggle arises primarily from the fact that I have attended some spectacularly overwhelming non-deaths. Those have included SWAT-calls, hostage rescues, and other interventions where the survival of those involved was far less than guaranteed. I have been present when lives were saved by extraordinary medical interventions. And I have been called to the scene when we simply needed someone to argue in favor of life with someone who was intent on ending their own. And that brings me to the reasons you do not want to invite me to your suicide, physician-assisted or otherwise.

I will try to stop you.

Sometimes what we see is not really life.
So, definitely not a time to choose death.

I was one of the founding members of the board of directors and executive committee of The Suicide Task Force of Larimer County. It later became The Suicide Resource Center. Now, since October, 2011 it has a new name. In order to differentiate themselves from other organizations that want to provide you with the resources by which you may commit suicide, the team is called the Alliance for Suicide Prevention. Due to excellent training, and whatever it is about God’s will that passes for “luck,” as both a police chaplain and as a pastor I have yet to lose the argument on behalf of life. Do not mistake me, though. I have friends and colleagues who have lost that argument, though. They were in attendance at a completed suicide and, had I continued in that field, it would only be a matter of time before I was, too. But in each case, we say and do all we know to prevent that suicide from being completed.

That is what I have done in the past; it is what I will continue to do in the future.

So, imagine for a moment that you are not the dear friend invited to attend, but the patient preparing to implement your legally-protected, physician-prescribed, self-administered, and invariably-lethal solution to an unacceptable life. Try to visualize yourself terminally ill, told that your life retains far too much quantity for the declining level of quality—and that the logical decision is to proactively and preemptively end your life? Do you have that picture of a life-not-worth-living firmly in your mind? Good. Now, consider whether you want me to be there.

Please understand, I would be very honored to receive your invitation to be present in that very special moment. But I would also hope to bring your breakfast in the morning, and to be present with you for many more days, weeks, or months.

Don't fear the reaper, but don't rush the hourglass.
What do you need with all that extra sand?

No matter how convincing the arguments in favor of death may be, I will argue in favor of life. No matter how others seek to terrorize you with wild fantasies of unmitigated agony, I can testify to you that it is only the rarest of patients who choose to experience higher levels of pain as a trade-off against greater awareness of the dying process (or simply being as mentally acute as possible for the visit of one more friend or family member). As a hospice chaplain I have seen the life-enhancement that is possible through palliative care (including psycho-socio-spiritual assistance far beyond what most would imagine could ever be made available in our cost-benefit-ration-driven healthcare system) even when the experience surpasses the worst physical deterioration that suicide advocates promise you. You have the option to accept care that neither prolongs your life nor hastens its end, but helps you to live until you die.

So, yes, please, do invite me to attend your going-away party. Just understand that I will still want to win the argument. I will plan to visit with you some more on the morning after. I will never stop encouraging you to give life one more try.

“Ask Not What Your Current State Has Done TO You” – Advocating FOR the State of Jefferson, not just AGAINST the states of California and Oregon

I live in what may one day become the fifty-first of these United States of America. Many of us here in Northern California, along with many others in Southern Oregon, display and discuss our support for the as-yet-mythical State of Jefferson. Why? Because…well, there are lots of reasons. We don’t want our economies, schools, taxes, resources, and lives controlled by the population masses in Los Angeles or Portland, or by the litigators and legislators in Salem or Sacramento.

Just off I-5 in Siskiyou County, California

Signage painted onto barns and sheds, referendums on county ballots, an official newspaper, Jefferson Public Radio and myriad green-and-gold flags, patches and bumper-stickers proclaim our desire for deliverance from the double-cross, the ebb-but-not-flow that drains our resources without ever surging back by way of benefits.

We know what it is we are against. We know what we advocate in favor of, too. We advocate in favor of being delivered from what is so that we can…well, do something else. Not that we have a clear vision of what that something else is, of course. But first, let’s get rid of what is, and then we’ll be able to figure out what we want to have instead.

Official Newspaper of the State of Jefferson

There is a certain logic to this process, of course. But it is the same logic by which The Arab Spring followed the pattern established in Iraq, Iron, Afghanistan, and too many other destabilized countries and regimes to count. What steps into the vacuum when the status quo, however detrimental to the populace it may be, is removed without a clear vision for what will be once what is has been destroyed.

So, my fellow citizens of the future State of Jefferson, here is what I advocate: that before we destroy our ties with what is, however egregiously the cost continues to be exacted, let us first determine what it is that we want to be instead. Only then is there a hope of creating a state where our resources are appropriately valued, wisely conserved and, when used, remunerated equitably.    

Are you a Jeffersonian? If so,
what does that mean to you?

I would also suggest some guidelines. Where we see arbitrary injustice, inflexible retribution, and arrogant profiteering, even among our compatriots, it is not enough merely to oppose the too-familiar pattern. The example is ingrained deeply and must also prompt a positive alternative if we intend to do other than meet one injustice with another, repeat one retribution in its opposite, and arrogantly reclaim profits as our due from those who have profited from our resources in the past.

The time to begin a policy of reversing rather than repeating the sins of our current overlords must come long before the inauguration of the fifty-first of these United States of America. The time for justice, mercy, and humility is now, even as we seek the deliverance that unites us. Because we are not called to do unto others as they have done unto us. In a more recent translation, the admonition that results in a unified brotherhood reads, “Treat others the same way you want them to treat you.”

Toward Building a Better Human Race: Two Key Prerequisites to Effective Eugenics

In a recent post to his blog, “Uncommon God, Common Good,” Paul Louis Metzger asks in the title “Should Ethics Be ‘Biologicized’? What Might that Mean for Eugenics?” It’s a good question. But even for those of us who understand that ethics involves determining what is good or bad and what our moral obligations are, grasping the idea that they could be “biologicized” would require a careful reading of Dr. Metzger’s post (which I recommend, and it can be found here). For now, I hope only to discuss, as briefly as possible, the challenges posed by eugenics, especially with regard to my particular ministry context.

“Eugenics” is a term coined in 1883 to describe (according to Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary—Eleventh Edition) the “science that deals with the improvement (as by control of human mating) of hereditary qualities of a race or breed.” In some instances, as with Germany in the late-1930s and early-1940s, eugenics sought to improve the human race as noted in Webster’s definition: by controlling who was allowed to procreate with whom. This selective breeding was enforced by prohibiting intermarriage between various groups in order to maintain purity in the traits identified as belonging to the Aryan race.

Others more recently have identified as eugenics a practice of unnatural selection subsequent to mating, but prior to the birth of a child. It is becoming more common to abort pregnancies when particular traits are identified as potentially diminishing the quality of the child’s (or parent’s) life. The range of factors seen as being sufficient to warrant these actions include not only what some call “birth defects,” but also the selective elimination intended to provide a couple with either a male or female child as they prefer.

In my ministry context, however, what is more often discussed is not the question of significantly improving the quality of life in the coming generations. Among hospice personnel, we face challenges from those who would define what constitutes an insufficient quality of life in members of the current generation. We do not tend to identify this as eugenics, though, even though the proponents of pre-emptively ended the lives of human persons intend to elevate us to a “good race” (with eu = Greek for good, and genea = Greek for race or generation), at least for those of us with sufficient “quality of life” to survive. Instead, those promoting the removal of living human persons claim to be motivated by a vision for euthanasia: ensuring a good death for those adjudged to be living a bad life.

Whether ostensibly prohibiting procreation by outlawing certain marriages, or preempting pregnancy’s natural outcome by killing unborn human persons, or prematurely ending the lives of the infirm, ill, injured, or otherwise disenfranchised, there are two key prerequisites to enacting effective eugenics outside the ethical considerations that constrain science to be practiced for the common good.

First, we would have to accept the dangerous optimism of democratically-governed science. We would have to believe that the majority of voting citizens were well-informed enough to look beyond the corporately-sponsored marketing messages and exercise some control over otherwise unabated experimentation. Only then could we do as Metzger’s subject, Dr. Edward O. Wilson recommends and remove ethics “temporarily from the hands of philosophers” to be “biologicized.” Eugenics necessitates that we allow those who can (or are willing to try) to do as they wish, without interference from society’s professional thinkers, but still under the influence of our nation’s diminishing ranks of voters.

"They told us to just sit back and watch what happens."

Second, for eugenics to be enacted effectively, we would have to continue to promote the fantasy that love and hate are merely emotional conditions and thus uncontrollable responses for which we bear no personal responsibility or obligation. That way, when we find that we do not have a fond sense of affection toward total strangers who would be eliminated from society, we can excuse our hateful acts of willful indifference as having just as little effect as our sentimentality would. Somehow we would have to allow our hatred to still remain an action, while our love became an even greater illusion. But we have managed it so far.

What would be the results of this unrestrained experimentation and willful indifference toward others? Eugenics seeks the elimination of those unfit to reproduce, or whose mothers are unwilling to nurture them until birth, or all of us who will eventually be in a position to continue usurping resources from the healthier members of the population. If more effectively pursued than is currently the case, then we would be left with an ever-increasing percentage of society for whom anything less than robust health, strength, wealth, and youth would put them at risk. But since that last category ebbs-away from each of us even now, perhaps we might want to steer a better course while there are still enough of us to object to eugenics.