Simpson University: One More Friend on Hospice

Does anyone know where Dr. Dean filed the advance directives?

Just as with our electronic medical records at the hospital I serve, the email was automatically time and date stamped. We got the news at 10:22 p.m., Saturday, April 25, 2015.[1] It’s just a matter of time, now.

It troubles me more than most Hospice admissions. It’s not that my old friend’s treatments had failed. As much as she cried out for help to those from her church, the distance from Colorado Springs to Redding, California was apparently too great. She sought legal protections, but the courts said they feared to tread where angels stood helplessly by. Even those who once claimed to be her caregivers seemed only to see the estate she would leave behind. Specialists who may have had a renewing effect on her treatments? They never even visited the patient.[2]

At least the primary care provider, Dr. Betty Dean (board chair for Simpson University) understands the Hospice process.[3] Perhaps there will be some comfort-care provided as system after system, member after member, part after part continues to shut down. But I fear that as it is for so many physicians, the temptation to prolong the agony through artificial life-support will be too great. In this case, the toxic prescription will continue to be more loans, more buildings, more attempts to “grow ourselves” out of the deepening financial pit. As Dr. Dean told the family Saturday night, Dr. Dummer is tasked with increasingly “rapid advancement in our programs and growth in areas of high interest.”

My M.Div. graduating class from
A.W. Tozer Theological Seminary: 2012.

Where the personal pronouns and adjectives are so human (e.g., “we” have selected “your” president in order to advance “our programs”) an appeal to God’s will seems dissonant. That appeal becomes disastrously demented when it is presented as a panacea, a cure-all that overcomes all causes and symptoms, even the self-inflicted ones. Doing so while the heart and soul of this Christian community succumbs to the cancerous “business providing educational services” invites us to join in a delusion. We must decline.

Am I overestimating the disease process we’re seeing? I don’t think so. Certainly the Christian community recognizes the false hopes of futile treatments. The health-care proxy now appointed to oversee the patient’s final descent Dr. Robin Dummer. His doctoral dissertation covered the history of what is now Simpson University. He cites previous pronouncements of “God’s will” for Simpson that clearly echoed in Saturday’s announcement. Dr. Dean wrote, “We are pleased to follow that guidance [“God’s leading in the selection of your President”]…we move forward in the grace and power of our loving Saviour.” Dr. Dummer’s critique seems appropriate to both situations. He wrote, “the primary reason cited was God’s leading.” Then he added that “such an appeal to God as the decision-maker often mutes dissent[,] for how does one argue against God[?]”[4]

Tozer Seminary students at
Dr. Sarah Sumner's Installation Ceremony

Thankfully, Dr. Dean and her fellow board-members are not God, and we are still free to ask, “Could there still be some miraculous change in the patient’s condition?” It is a possibility. But the question is a little like asking, “Do some patients ‘flunk Hospice?’” And, to that question, the answer is Yes. With improved care and quality of life, with the withdrawal of debilitating treatments, and with the inaccuracies of medical prognoses, some patients rally and live far longer than one might imagine. Could that be the case with Simpson University, or even the Christian community within and around the university? Probably not. Here’s why.

The co-morbidities, the factors contributing to the decline and eventual death of this patient are severe, intractable, and being left untreated. One of those conditions is “philosophical dualism,” the idea that we can separate our “secular” lives from our “sacred” obligations. This infection eats away at the kind of dynamic Christian faith that would be necessary to the divine healing our friend so desperately needs. As that heart and soul erodes, even within the hollow shell of a “business providing educational services” the other disease continues to spread. “Reprehensible duplicity,” the practice of telling two (or more) complementary lies in hopes that neither will be effectively confronted, has pervasively endured treatments from both within and outside the organization.

A bunch of intensely Christian classmates during
"Intensives" during one of my master's coursework.
(I think it was the M.Min.P.C. at this point, maybe.)

So, this is the point at which most family members would ask, “How long does she have?” My personal experience as a Hospice chaplain leaves me opposed to prophesying in these cases. But I would offer a unique perspective on those matters that was shared with me some years ago.

I once served a patient whose multiple morbidities (and his doctors’ Latin phrases) had him confused about “How long do I have?” When he finally understood my translation of the most recent letter from the medical community he said, “So, the lung disease I’ve had would finish me off in about six years. But now I have cancer, and that’s going to finish me off in about six months. Just like, if I walk out onto the highway, I’d have probably no more than six minutes before the next logging truck came along.”

We laughed together then. And I wish I had his sense of humor now. But I find myself deadly serious about this.

To follow through on my friend’s metaphor, those of us who love the patient most should carefully consider whether we are being invited to sit vigil at the bedside, or to stand with the patient on the centerline of the highway. To use another frame of reference, I would never question those who have chosen, and those who may choose now to get off the ship while there (may) still be lifeboats available.

---

[1] This is the text of Dr. Betty Dean’s email from Saturday, April 25, 2015.

Dear Simpson Community,

The Board of Trustees of Simpson University wishes to thank all in the Simpson community who have prayed over the past weeks and months for God's leading in the selection of your President.

We are pleased to follow that guidance and announce the appointment of Dr. Robin Dummer to serve in leading the University as President.  Dr. Dummer's faithful service, understanding of the Simpson community, its culture and the institution's vision will allow for rapid advancement in our programs and growth in areas of high interest.

In addition to appointing Dr. Dummer, the Board acknowledges his most valuable service to the University during the past twenty-four months as Interim President.  With the strong support of the board, faculty, staff and administration, we have confidence that Dr. Dummer's leadership will serve the University well as we move forward in the grace and power of our loving Saviour.

With Gratitude to All,
Betty Dean, Chair
Board of Trustees

cc Board of Trustees

[2] Dr. Betty Dean, “Presidential Search Update,” faculty and staff emails, March 4 and 17, 2015.

[3] Dr. Betty Dean, personal conversations on her history of helping to found a local Hospice organization.

[4] Dr. Robin Dummer, Dissertation, quoted by Yvonne Comstock Wilber, Facebook comments, April 26, 2015.

Two Ways To Make Better Emergency Decisions – Part Two: A Refresher on Responsibility

The determinist says, "The dominoes, once started, cannot
help but fall according to their pattern." To which I would
reply, "That's probably true, until the roof caves in."

As I discussed in Part One, there are likely some other areas in which your experience leads you to plan ahead. You’ve likely contemplated in advance the decisions you would make and the actions you would take in the midst of an emergency. You may already have a plan to maintain air, warmth, water, and food for you and yours in case of a natural disaster. Your travel kit for an illness, injury, or death in the family may be already packed and readily accessible. The necessary equipment and supplies for surviving an automotive breakdown in severe weather could already be stored in your vehicle. Some of us are careful, some anxious, and some even paranoid, so we plan for any potential calamity, no matter how remote the possibility. And yet, we will still likely face the need to make an unplanned decision, and take hasty action, in circumstances for which we are utterly unprepared. What do we do then?

Accept Emergency Decisions

I believe it to be essential to think through as many potential emergencies as our imaginations can summon. But it is also impossible to think through every potential emergency, to include every possible detail, and to consider all the complicating contingencies that may mitigate our prior decisions in the midst of some very difficult circumstances. The paradox is this: we need to carefully consider our decisions while we simultaneously prepare to take unhesitating action on those decisions, despite the reality that the actual circumstances will almost never match our prior visualizations

Even when we think we know what each part is going to do,
the opportunities for misadventure are incredibly complex.

Here is the result. We will err. We will fall short. We will over-reach. We will do collateral damage. In our judgment, in our physical ability, in our attitudes, or in any number of other ways, we will fail to respond with fully appropriate measures in the midst of an emergency. We cannot do otherwise. And even if we did perform perfectly, as human persons our nature is to second-guess, to doubt, to wonder, and to shame, whether only ourselves or others as well.

We need to accept that we will face emergencies. We also need to accept the decisions that those emergencies require of us. And further, we need to accept the decisions we make and the actions we take may be ineffective, or too late, or over-reactive, or otherwise excessive. But we also need to accept those decisions and actions as being the best we could muster under the circumstances.

So, we are still likely to face emergencies that require the best possible decision under the worst possible circumstances. Here’s what to do with that.

The Greatest Problem in an Emergency

The greatest problem you or I face, whether in the midst of the emergency or in our careful pre-planned policies and protocols, has two tools at its disposal. The tools are these: “Why?” and “What if?” The problem is “Distraction.”

And yet most of us tried doing it so many different ways.

“Why?” asks us to look to the past. Why did this happen? How did we get into this mess? Who messed up and where am I going to find them when this is all done?

“What if?” points us to the future. What will happen if I make this or that decision? What if I make the right decision and fail to carry it out effectively? What if I do everything right, and it still goes there in a hand-basket? What if everyone decides I’m to blame? Both sets of questions distract us from our present circumstances, our limited options, and our inability to predict the many layers of outcomes that will follow.

The Second Greatest Problem in an Emergency

There is a second problem, though. It’s related to the first and, if we will let it teach us, it provides a solution to both problems. Whether the circumstance we face is a consequence (resulting from the “Whys” of the past) or whether it will result in consequences (leading to the “What Ifs” of the future), we often assume that we are somehow responsible for results and consequences, when we are merely responsible for the best possible decisions and actions of the moment, under the circumstances as best we can determine them at the time.

Even the right thing can have unioreseen consequences.
Do the right thing anyway.

For those of us who claim to be followers of Jesus Christ, the question we should ask moment-by-moment and day-by-day is “What would Jesus have me do?” The answers to that question are not complicated—until we human persons complicate them, of course. But in an emergency, there is no time for backtracking, for studying a little harder in some class, or reading a passage of scripture more carefully. There is only who we are, what we have been given, and how we need to respond—which is: only the best we can. My belief in God’s work through Christ in my life by the Holy Spirit means I can rest in the moment, even the emergency, because of who He is making me to be—which governs what I know I am to do. “I am responsible for obedience. God is on the hook for the results and consequences.” (Even, I would add, the results and consequences that led to the circumstances I’m facing in the emergency.)

But that belief rests on one other underlying factor. Here it is.

God Never Faces an Emergency

Nothing ever catches God by surprise. Nothing He allows into your life has slipped past Him unnoticed. He has created you, redeemed you, filled you, shaped you, and led you to be His workmanship (the piece He shows off as evidence of His expert craftsmanship—Ephesians 2:10), to do His will, and to speak His word.

When you find yourself in an emergency, remember that the emergency didn’t find you by accident. And remember, too, that you didn’t find the emergency by accident, either. It’s not just that the circumstances enter your life for a purpose. God built you to enter these circumstances for a purpose. Just be who you are, and do what you do. Let God take care of the results and the consequences.

Two Ways To Make Better Emergency Decisions – Part One: A Primer in Preparedness

If you had to leave the building right now,
where do you go?

“You should improve your impulse control.” Usually, that means restraining our impulsive purchases. Turn off the “one-click ordering,” don’t “stop by for your free test-drive,” and ignore everything offered you at the grocery store check-stand. Those are good steps to take, especially if you find that you’re headed toward an eventual storage locker rental.

But there are other impulses that are essential to our health and well-being. When backing out of a parking spot, or changing lanes in traffic, feel free to respond quickly to the sounds of beeping horns or shouting pedestrians. It’s appropriate to duck or turn in response to loud, sudden noises. Definitely dive for the toddler who’s managed to unbuckle the safety belt and stand up in the shopping cart. Don’t let those occasional spikes of adrenalin go to waste. React.

But not all our reactions are intuitively appropriate. That is, some impulses may not result in the best outcomes. The adrenalin rush fuels our need to fight, to flee, or to freeze. Sadly, though, it does not always lead us to choose correctly among those options. In an emergency, we often find ourselves needing to act without thinking through the potential consequences of our actions, and the results can be very different. For example, if the pedestrians shouting at you are warning of what you’re about to hit—the brakes are the better choice. If they’re warning of what’s about to hit you—you might want the accelerator.

The first of the “Two Ways To Make Better Emergency Decisions” is…

Prevent Emergency Decisions

Emergencies are an inescapable reality. There will be moments in which we need to act immediately in order to prevent damage or injury to others or ourselves. But even in those moments, we do not have to make emergency decisions, if we have already decided what we will do in case of a particular emergency.

Do yourself and your loved ones a favor:
complete and file your advance directives.

As a bank teller, I was trained and drilled in the actions to take in the event of a bank robbery. When a man leveled his pistol at me through the window one day, despite the adrenalin-fueled impulses I felt, I followed the protocol that we had practiced. The need to focus my mind on “doing this the way I was taught” helped prevent me from fighting, fleeing, or freezing. The correct response was to calmly follow-through on the requests made by the man holding the gun.

Later, though, as a police chaplain, I was reminded frequently of the potential risks of accompanying our officers into the field. One night on a hotel balcony, several occupants of a particularly rowdy room wanted to join the officer and me in the narrow, confined space outside their door. The officer repeated his request that only the one we were to contact should come out, until a young man inside the room called me by name. Inexplicably, the officer let him come out to visit with me. A moment after, when those inside the room decided that wrestling with an armed law enforcement officer seemed like a good idea, the young man of my acquaintance, now behind the officer, began to reach for the officer’s pistol. I remember thinking about my training, but I didn’t think about it until after I had taken the appropriate measures to restrain the subject.

I'm not sure "See Your Chiropractor"
belongs above "Notify Your Insurance
Company," but you get the idea.

Not every emergency involves firearms. But almost every emergency can be anticipated. The necessary decisions can be thought through, and preparations for various contingencies can often be made. In three very common situations, though, I find that there has been almost no forethought, much less preparation. Our fantasy is often that “we’ll never have to make that decision,” which we often phrase, “we’ll cross that bridge if we come to it.” Most of us will face a chasm or two like these in the course of our lives. Don’t wait until you’re there to realize that there is no bridge.

Childbirth Complications

We can spend most of an evening in some circles discussing, theoretically and hypothetically, “Do we believe that abortion should be an option if and when a mother’s life would be endangered by continuing to carry her as-yet-unborn child?” I’m sure there are plenty of interesting opinions we could share over dinner. But when the doctor says, “I can’t save them both. What do you want me to do?” the answer is time-critical. When our son was just about to become the subject of such a conversation, the doctor had already worked out the way he was going to phrase it. “I’m going to have to break him, or her, or both.” We were within thirty seconds of having to give him an answer. But since he was our third child, we’d had plenty of time and opportunity to discuss what we believed. We literally had the answer ready before (several years before) the doctor needed to ask the question.

Complications at the Other End-of-Life

There is almost no end to the research, education, and information available on the techniques and technologies that continue to complicate what has never been a simple subject: how hard do we want the medical community to work before they let us die? In polite company we might ask, “To which among the many life-prolonging therapies, procedures and medications would I feel comfortable submitting myself or a loved one? From which of them would I hope my loved ones protect me when I am no longer able to make my own wishes known?” This needs to be discussed in detail, and more frequently than you might think. New options are constantly becoming available. It would be good to hear about them from your doctor, at least sometime before he needs to turn to your assembled family and/or friends and ask, “What was her preference? Do we hook her up, or let her go?”

An excellent resource for putting together
your advance directives. 

Planning for Violent Crime

Would-be pacifist that I am, I frequently contemplate, and discuss as often as anyone will allow, “How do I feel about the terrible possibility that I might have to employ violence in response to violence toward myself? toward others? toward my loved ones?" The time to decide whether you’re willing to use force in response to force is before you ever face such circumstances. Simply put: hesitate in deciding and you might as well not decide. Even a momentary delay will usually prevent any subsequent action from being effective, no matter how extensive your planning and training may be. I mean to address here, however, only those momentary circumstances in which immediate action must be taken to protect yourself or others. In communities where law enforcement resources and responses are limited, these questions apply primarily toward criminal behaviors. For others, where law enforcement resources and responses are excessive, the same questions apply in our approach to law enforcement officers themselves. In both cases, however, advance preparation leads to more careful response, whether we choose to support, to obey, to resist, or even to confront those threatening violence.

In part two, I’ll discuss the second of the two ways to make better emergency decisions. Even more important that what we do ahead of a crisis is what we do amidst the crisis.

Toward Taking “Roast Pastor” off of the Sunday Lunch Menu – or at least shutting down the poisonous fountain of anonymous criticisms

This is a roast "al pastor." No actual pastors 
were harmed in the making of this blog post.

What’s on the menu? Well, if it’s a Sabbath afternoon (I was going to say “Sunday,” but I’m assuming that my Seventh-Day Adventist friends engage in the same behaviors.), you can safely bet that at least a handful or two in any given community (if not every congregation every Sabbath) are having “roast pastor” for lunch. Rarely, though, does this occur if the pastor is actually at the table, of course. And some don’t choose to air their concerns, questions, or comments so publicly. Not that they always bring their criticisms directly to the pastor’s office. No, as Thom Rainer has discussed (You can find his post here: http://thomrainer.com/2014/12/17/one-sentence-pastors-church-staff-hate-hear/.), most will hide behind the seven deadliest words you can fire at a pastor, “I thought you should know, someone said….” The sentence has other forms. But whatever words are used, they can sentence the pastor to agonizing over every detail of every sermon, each encounter, all the missed connections, and an unlimited imagination of unmet expectations, any one of which can lead a pastor to distraction, discouragement, and despair. Or they can lead to a pastor reacting bitterly, withdrawing emotionally, and/or writing yet another “Monday-morning resignation letter.”

This office says "Yes, I've spent tens of thousands on my education, 
but please, do share your thoughts about my eschatological errors."

(Note to pastors: if you get in the regular habit of writing and deleting “Monday-morning resignation letters,” you’re probably moving past any therapeutic value to be found in the exercise. In fact, you’re probably starting to more fully contemplate sending out your resume. I’m not saying that you shouldn’t. But when you reach the point where it’s a frequent practice, don’t pretend that “come Tuesday, it’ll be alright.”)

Again, though, as Rainer points out, it doesn’t have to be this way. He explores the reasons and suggests a way to shut down such behavior. In my experience, though, his approach may simply bottle up the criticism by refusing to hear it. As with other home-made fermentation projects, sometimes that results in a more mature vintage, and sometimes it results in an explosion. I would advocate a slightly different approach that I believe more fully addresses the pastoral responsibility to those who feel compelled to share “someone’s” critique of the pastor, or of any other victim.

This one? "The pastor will be right back, just as soon as 
he's done meeting with the Joint Chiefs of Ministry Staff."

(“Victim? Really, Pastor? Isn’t that overstating it?” Please understand. I see this behavior, however well-intentioned, and however accurate the criticisms may be, as gossip. And I see gossip as sin. It is sin against God, but also against whomever you make the target of your gossip. If you read on, I think my reasons will be clear for holding this rare and extreme position—that sin is a bad thing. So don’t stop when you get to the part where you get offended and want to come tell me, “Pastor, some people read your blog, and they’re saying….”)

From my first year in my first pastorate, I have taken a wise mentor’s advice and “gone straight at the problem.” After a couple of months there, serving a congregation consisting of (in the words of the denomination’s district staff) the dozen or so who’d “spent the past twenty years running the other two hundred off,” I proposed to the board that we purchase a church van. “It has to have eleven seats, though,” I told them. “Because the next time one of you comes to me and says, ‘Well, I heard that…’ or ‘Someone was saying…’ that person gets to ride shotgun, and we’re going to drive to whomever it was that shared the gossip with them. Assuming that person was passing along something they’d heard from someone else, we’ll load them up and keep heading upstream against the flow of poison. There’s only twelve of us in this church, so when the eleven of us arrive at the last doorstep, I’ll know that someone knows who said what.”

"Welcome. Come on in...but first, you might want to 
tie some pomegranates to your pants cuffs."

In a pastor’s busy schedule, it can be hard to imagine that there’s time for this much attention to the negativity. But the damage can be immense. Rainer explains its effects so well that I won’t repeat it all here. You’ve got the link to his blog above. But the result, for him, was that “I got to the point where I did not entertain such veiled criticisms. I tried to be polite and say, ‘I am sorry, but I cannot listen to you further because you will not give me the specific sources of the concerns.’” Rainer’s approach is sound advice from a psychological pain-management perspective. It also fits the practice of efficient “pastoral administration.” But that last phrase is in quotes because I don’t believe it’s a real thing. The term is an oxymoron—a statement that contradicts itself (like “hot water heater,” or being “clearly misunderstood,” which occurs between my wife and me sometimes when we are “alone together”). There are administrative duties to be fulfilled in the function of any congregation of believers. But it is “prayer and the ministry of the word” (Acts 6:4 – and the functions of Ephesians 4:11ff and elsewhere) that should be the substance of anything we call pastoral ministry.

I'd love this furniture in my office, but I can't afford 
the brandy and cigars to go with it.

So how do I prayerfully apply the Word to those claiming to represent an anonymous coalition of critics?

Several scriptures explain our mutual responsibility for one another in the body of Christ. As I see it, if you don’t choose to address what you see as my errors, then you can’t legitimately claim to love me. Sending someone else (or pretending that you represent someone else) doesn’t make your actions any more loving, or any less sinful.

Here’s two passages in particular that come to mind, about your responsibility to me as a fellow-Christian.

If anyone sees his brother committing a sin not leading to death, he shall ask and God will for him give life to those who commit sin not leading to death. There is a sin leading to death; I do not say that he should make request for this. (I John 5:16, NASB)

My brethren, if any among you strays from the truth and one turns him back, let him know that he who turns a sinner from the error of his way will save his soul from death and will cover a multitude of sins. (James 5:19-20, NASB)

The most detailed approach, though, come directly from the lips of Jesus. I refer to it as “The Matthew 18 Protocol” as a shorthand for “Don’t be coming in here with that ‘somebody said’ nonsense.”

“If your brother sins, go and show him his fault in private; if he listens to you, you have won your brother. But if he does not listen to you….” (Matthew 18:15-18, NASB)

"Why, yes, our pastor DID talk about Matthew 18...
right before he left."

There are further instructions there, of course. But it all starts with obedience to the command of Christ. We are called to pursue that first step toward being clear on what the criticism is, while honoring the relationship Jesus assumes will be not only maintained, but deepened. At some point in the first three stages, Jesus offer hope of reconciling the parties. The fourth only applies when the object of the criticism is entirely recalcitrant. (Assuming, of course that the criticism is found to be valid. Be sure to look at the passage Jesus is quoting. Deuteronomy 19:15-21 addresses the possibility of inaccurate criticisms and false accusations as well.)

What does this look like in the actual practice of pastoral ministry? If someone cares enough to bring their concerns (whoever’s concerns they may claim them to be) to the pastor, then I assume they care enough to want to handle matters in a Biblical manner. So, when they’ve explained what others have passed along to them, I ask some form of this question:  

“So, before we go to meet with them, how did it go when you confronted them about their gossiping? How far into the Matthew 18 Protocol are we?”

///

So, now you have read my blog. And you may want to tell me what “someone” thinks about it. I’d appreciate it, though, if you’d be kind and loving enough to identify yourself in your comments, so that we can work together on resolving any conflicts and maintaining, even deepening, our relationship. Thanks in advance for your example of obedience to Christ.

Diplomacy Made Easy – But, “You’re Gonna Need a Bigger Boat”

It's never too soon to get that bigger boat.

I am a bully. It has been almost half a century since I was beating up fellow-first-graders at the bus stop each morning. But I am still a bully.

Of course, like all bullies, I don’t bully everyone all the time. There’s plenty of room for bystanders. I don’t mind a few sycophantic followers who smile and nod in agreement, even if they have no idea what the fight is about. And you’re unlikely to get into my crosshairs, unless you disagree. Even then, you may not identify what was done to you as bullying. Even if you have the slightest hint, you wouldn’t dare say so. Not because I would bully you even more (though that’s a possibility). You wouldn’t speak up because most of the bystanders, and certainly the sycophants, would tell you “That’s not bullying.”

You see, my skills fall into categories which most don’t readily recognize as bullying behaviors. I usually don’t have to apply more than a small portion of my excessive education, esoteric vocabulary, and/or labyrinthine logic in order to overwhelm you. The result, though, is rarely agreement, and almost never any kind of collaboration that would deepen our relationship. You don’t have to admit I’m right for me to win. As with many competitive enterprises, I don’t have to convince you. There’s no need to force a concession of my argument’s superiority. Most of the time, I just have to keep talking until those who disagree decide “enough is enough,” and quit the argument.

This Historical Policy

I’m unlikely to stop being a bully. Even among those whose neurons store far less information, or whose synapses fire less quickly, there is ample evidence in favor of successfully bullying others. And I can hardly be expected to withstand the peer pressure. Most of those in my faith tradition can’t bring bigger brains to the table. But we do have the greater numbers and social influence that comes with being the dominant majority. And even where we have atrophied any thought processes we may once have had, there are still a handful of leaders who are more than willing to do our thinking for us. In fact, I aspire to be one of them. I think I’ll probably succeed at it. Do you dare disagree?

The Contemporary Practice

It’s not just the ballot box where my tribe’s greater resources are brought to bear. Public demonstrations, fundraising, broadcast and publishing media outlets, and some of the more vehement social media positions all rely on nothing more than the sheer numbers who are willing to agree…rather than find themselves bullied by the majority.

In world politics, those with greater economies, larger populations, and/or more advanced technologies get to enforce their will over others, even while pretending to invite collaboration, to offer an opportunity for agreement, or simply to demand acquiescence—or else. The practice used to involve literally parking a fleet of the dominant nation’s warships off the coast of those to be bullied into submission. Air superiority was the preference for awhile, and now we can cripple most others through economic sanctions and/or selective assassination. But it’s still rightly called “Gunboat Diplomacy.”

"I'm sorry, you'd prefer I do what?"

I like it. And I like it, not just because my brain works well enough that my bullying doesn’t involve actual threats of violence. I like the idea of Gunboat Diplomacy because I know some bullies who seem unlikely to stop their bullying unless another bully brings their bigger boat between them and the targets of their bullying behaviors. Three in particular come to mind.

One of them is the wife-beating rapist who wants the courts to amend his child custody arrangements. That’s unlikely to happen. His work schedule would frequently put the children under the care of the matriarch whose incestuous household has bred narcissistic entitlement into each of the males I’ve met. My wife and I have met two of the females, too—both victimized by their own brothers. Still, my friend’s ex-husband has the means to pursue his day in court, to prolong the process indefinitely, and to hope that in the absence of alimony and other support payments he’s forestalling, she will run out of money, lose her lawyer, and simply have to give up. It might work. Unless someone has a better idea.

Sometimes you're not so worried about the "concealed" part.

Another I’d like to bully is the drug-dealer who was recently released. One of his convictions was for having beaten his domestic partner…again. The last straw was when he finally beat her in front of her offspring. He’s out, but she has a restraining order. There are also protective orders as a result of the criminal case. Yet somehow probation approved his new place of residence. It’s true that among the consequences of battering your domestic partner is the need to change your place of residence. But he could not have gone back to “her place,” because it wasn’t her place any more. Because she had allowed him to beat her, she was evicted by her landlord. She couch-surfed until a few weeks ago when she finally got into an apartment again. Why is all this important? Because the address her abuser gave his probation officer as his new residence—yes, he gave them her new address. How he got it? Why no one checked it? What she’s supposed to do to protect herself? No one seems to know. But I have an idea.

It’s the same idea that comes to mind whenever I face the reality of the next few months of negotiations and interviews with probation officers and therapists over the release of a convicted child-pornography trafficker. If the most recent two prior releases are any indicator, he will request permission to attend services, and there will be hours of paperwork and phone calls back and forth on the conditions, stipulations, restrictions, and supervision necessary to accommodate his rights in this area. I believe in hope. But I also believe in recidivism. I believe in redemptive purposes. And I believe that a little bullying might be just what’s necessary to prevent a sixth conviction. I do justify my frustrations, however, along with the difficulty of summoning any willingness to help facilitate his return to fellowship. How do I justify anything less than providing the greatest possible assistance to him? By remembering that preparations and follow-up on the previous two releases that were on my watch (of the four, total, so far) took more days to complete than the number of days he was actually free…before reoffending and returning to yet another imprisonment. Is there any reason to go through all that again? Well, not if someone has  a better idea.

Here’s the better idea I allow myself to imagine: I want to use my bigger boat to enforce my will on the perpetrators in each of these situations. I can think of several effective ways I could persuade then to make some accommodation of my position. Those victimized by these predators would greatly appreciate it, I know. In a community known for outrageously long response-times and malignant inattention to any needs so far from the county seat…well, if no one will dissuade them who’s to dissuade me?

...at your own risk.

So, why don’t I simply bully these bullies into finding someone else to bully?

Here’s why: for Gunboat Diplomacy to work, you have to be sure you have the biggest boat. And I never will. Neither will you. There’s only One who guarantees that His boat is biggest and best, and it utterly blows out of the water all the rest of my petty fantasies about threats, intervention, retribution, vengeance or other more violent means of correction. (I admit, though, the phrase from my training many years ago keeps echoing: “Continue firing until the threat is eliminated.” My gunsmith tells me that the law in California, even if I were still serving with law enforcement, requires something a little different. But I’ll bet it’s still true that “personal safety trumps department policy.”)

So, am I saying that we should allow matters to take their course in hopes that God will protect the victims and smite the miscreants? No. I’m saying that I’m a miscreant. So are you. And before we start loading up, cocked and locked, looking for the justification to end any one of these conflicts, we might want to look to the true nature of the conflict. It’s sin. And sin has never overcome sin. I can’t stop their sin by committing my own. Even if my aim were as true as it used to be, their sin would survive them, having been adopted and furthered by me—the one who claims to hate the damage they’re doing by their sin, so much so that I might sin in order to stop it?.

The real solution is not so satisfying a fantasy. It is not so gratifying a pursuit. It is not as directly effective as a magazine or two of .45 ACP would be. But the real solution happens to be the biggest boat we’ve got. There’s probably a children’s church song to be written about this…except for the handgun part, of course. “Jesus has a big, big boat, and He’s loaded it with love.”

And so I will seek an answer to the question “What would Jesus have me do?” I will continue to love, provide for, and—only when absolutely necessary—protect those victimized by others like me. And I will admit that the same traits I see in these criminals make it easier for me to love them, whenever I admit that they are very much “neighbors” to be loved because they are so very much “like myself.”

The Dangers of Doing It All: The Collateral Damage of Pastoral Perfectionism

“Some aspire to indispensability;

others have indispensability thrust upon them.”

Let me start by clarifying. I do not do it all. But it would serve me right if I had to.

Dozens to keep track of - not a big deal.

I have only recently become successful at delegation. (Okay, that’s an overstatement. I delegate, sort of. Then I intrude, kibitz, look over shoulders, send email reminders, etc. But I am trying.) Delegation is still causing me great stress, but only because I still want to micromanage every detail so that I have every answer for every question that every parishioner might ever ask.

I am under no illusions about my way being the best way, or being the only one skilled and caring enough for certain responsibilities. My problem with delegation in the past was simply a matter of my schedule regularly overwhelming any potential for advance planning. Delegation does free some of the schedule…eventually. Initially, though, it adds to the workload as those offering to take on a task need to be clear on what the task entails.

This is not a symptom of the “If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself” syndrome. Really. Not. At all. It’s just a matter of not having enough time to not do any of the tasks myself, because it’s faster that way.

But that has changed now. I have ministry coordinators in charge of the three major areas of our congregation’s ministries. This has freed a portion of my schedule to focus more directly on other essential responsibilities.

Yes, the counseling load is at a peak, but that’s not as essential to the operation of the congregational infrastructure as other jobs are. Yes, I’ve been glad for the opportunities to intervene more directly in a number of serious crises, and make the trips to Redding for court dates and hospital visitation without leaving other tasks undone (even though I missed one!). Yes, there are enhancements to the sound system on which my attention can now be focused, but there is little hope of actually increasing the volume sufficiently when shouting from three feet away doesn’t get the job done. And yes, the additional time has benefitted the congregation with sermons that are (marginally) more concise and, more importantly, shorter. But it’s hard to measure improvements when the evaluation scale usually ranges only from “That was interesting” to “Nice sermon.”

No, there is one most important task to which my additional attention has been drawn, with expressions of both relief and gratitude from those most concerned. As with many rural, solo-staff pastors, even with ministry coordinators on hand for significant responsibilities, the greatest consternation I face, and conquer, centers on inventory.

Thousands...and I manage just fine with these.

Specifically, there are particular stockpiles that are especially concerning, and for which I alone wield the power. Literally—power. The 9-volts go in the cordless microphone and each of the smoke detectors. AA’s for the PowerPoint remotes and all clocks in each of the buildings on campus. AAA’s are for the digital recorder on the pulpit. The need for these powerful supplies, of course, pales in comparison to the frantic search for communion cups every four or five months.

But the greatest collateral damage in my inventory-control failures came from none of these. The pain was not caused by a lack of copier paper and toner, extra-long staples for bylaws and church directories, nor custom thank-you cards for memorial gifts following funerals and memorial services.

I hurt a child.

How? I failed to appropriately monitor the length of the wicks in the candlelighters we use each Sunday morning. One had been drawn back into the lighter’s ferule, and left there. This allows the wax to bond to the interior of the tube, binding the wick so that when it is next to be extended…the slide crushes the paraffin within, rather than extending the wick outward. So, I repaired it, and replaced the old, bent, frayed, and utterly unusable wick with a brand new one.

Unfortunately, I failed to replace the other wick at the same time. They were no longer synchronized in their usable life and replacement schedule. Some weeks later, the neglected candlelighter ran out of wick, leaving only one to be used that Sunday morning.

I don’t believe in coincidences. I believe in cause-and-effect. You do, too. And so, you’ll understand why I take full responsibility for having hurt a child. In fact, I hurt a nine year-old whose friendship I value, but who I have also, sadly, given reason to wonder about my value as her friend. There are lots of complicating factors, but suffice to say, she is not my favorite child in the blended, extended, fractured, and mended family that currently spans three different households. In my defense, my favorite is the one I’ve known longest, having become acquainted years ago through my wife’s teaching career and my own counseling and kibitzing among the families she helps. I try not to insincerely fawn over any or all of the other five children. But this one…well, I do like her. And she got hurt. And it was my fault.

Literally tens of thousands...and we don't run out.

On “The Sunday of Just One Candlelighter” (as historical infamy will ever name it), my favorite was asked by our ushers (“foyer assistants,” actually, but in most other churches they’d be called greeters or ushers) to use the one working lighter to ignite the candles at the altar. She did so, gladly. If anyone noticed that her sister had been left out, they didn’t mention it to me at the time. Perhaps we could have had her snuff the candles at the end of the service. Perhaps we could have ensured that she got a turn, solo, the next time, even if I were maintaining better control over the wick situation. But we didn’t.

Thankfully, she is a very forgiving child. She accepted my apology with maturity and graciousness. I think she might even attend church with that portion of her family again someday. But I still worry.

I worry, primarily, that I have not so fully learned my lesson as I ought to have. You see, my failure at properly maintaining the wicks in the candlelighters, just like my occasional failures at inventory control for several other items (though we have never run out of communion cups!), is just the tip of the iceberg. My primary failure is two-fold. First, my personality, my attitude, my over-scheduling, and several other factors limit my attention to being where I am. My body was in the sanctuary that morning. My mind was there, too, but also in at least a half-dozen other places, thinking about any number of other factors. (Who’s scheduled for what responsibilities this morning? Have I seen all of them yet? Am I prepared to step in to each of those areas should they fail to appear? Can I afford the time to do the two hour lunch following services? What will people think if I don’t, again, ever?) If I had been fully there, would I have seen the disappointment on my friend’s face? Maybe not. But if I were to set a better example of being where I am, might that have increased the odds that someone would have noticed? That someone would have looked open enough to the possibility of her father mentioning her disappointment? Maybe not.

Maybe the only reason this happened has nothing to do with turning back the clock to fix what happened on “The Sunday of Just One Candlelighter.” Maybe there’s no way to overcome our tendency to overlook willing servants who are excited about the possibility of contributing to the worship service, even if they are “only” nine years-old. Maybe one of the things I’m supposed to learn is how dependent I am on grace and mercy, and the forgiveness of a friend who was hurt because of my inattention to details. Maybe.

But I have to admit that one of the distracting factors behind my anxieties and overwrought concerns for every element of every ministry in every life of my entire congregation (and community, truth be told), is my bitterness and resentment. I don’t like being in charge of the batteries, or the communion cups, or the cassette tapes, or the copier paper, etc. I distinctly dislike the frantic requests for any item in the inventory that cannot be immediately found. (My mother used to scold, “Look with your eyes, not with your mouth.”) I really get bent when those frantic requests come after the two-minute warning, just before the start of a worship service. And it compounds my frustrations at my incessant self-scolding for constantly preparing to fill-in for other servants who, most of the time, actually do show up for their responsibilities. (A couple of them even notify me most of the time when they cannot be there to fulfill their scheduled role!)

Two. Just TWO to keep track of - and I messed up.

As you can imagine, my bitterness and resentment has little or nothing to do with the expectations others have for my perfection at inventory control, etc. My breathless anxieties are not caused by the inconsistencies of others on the wonderful crew with which I am blessed and, frankly, proud to serve. So, then, what’s my problem?

It is this: despite sound theology to the contrary, my behavior is governed less by faith than by fear. I can’t imagine being fired for failing to maintain a sufficient supply of copier toner. It’s a pricey item to stockpile, and when the digital printer needs replaced, there you are with extra toner you can’t use in the replacement, wasting the Lord’s precious and scarce financial…and there I am, doing it again.

I really do think that if I could focus, as I admonish others to do, on being who I am called to be, and doing whatever that prompts me to do…in the moment…at the place…as the person God created, then I might notice what I missed that morning: that the opportunity to serve Christ, to participate in blessing a congregation, to simply light candles, or to smile forgivingly at a pastor…these are special moments to be cherished, and I have wasted too many of them worrying about what comes next, or what didn’t get done, or what I’m supposed to do at any given moment when I’m focused on pleasing just about anyone else but God.

I’ve already apologized. But if you’re reading this, my only-slightly-less-than-favorite-friend-in-your-family, I also want to say, “Thank you.” You came to church and let God use you to help me learn some things, and when you got hurt in the process, you were gracious and forgiving.

Pray for me that I can keep learning to be the same way.

Mutually Beneficial Interrogators: An Approach to Interfaith Friendships

My favorite radio format: What's In It For Me?

(Trigger Warning: Elements of this blog post make me want to take distinctly undiplomatic actions toward those perpetrating particularly egregious offenses against the human personhood of certain friends of mine. You may have a similar reaction toward those individuals—which I would recommend against acting upon—or a more serious reaction to the mere mention of their particular offenses. Please consider carefully whether you should read this post at this particular time.)

My friend, colleague, professor, mentor, and idol (depending as much upon my mood as the particular context), Paul Louis Metzger is associated with the Foundation for Religious Diplomacy. The foundation recommends “approaching adherents of the respective faith traditions as ‘trustworthy rivals’ rather than as perfect, homogenous matches made in heaven.” (Dr. Metzger’s post on the topic is found here: http://www.patheos.com/blogs/uncommongodcommongood/2013/11/trustworthy-rivals-on-an-alternative-path-to-multi-faith-discourse/#ixzz3QQGk0I8b.)

Pick one you don't recognize. Discover something about yourself.

At the end of his post, he asks, “Which would you rather be toward those of other faiths? A trustworthy rival, a mean-spirited and scheming enemy (like a former spouse), or a platonic and possibly even unscrupulous bedfellow? Can you think of other options?” My problem is that I cannot stop thinking about the options he presents. The imagery that comes to mind of “platonic bedfellows” is of those unscrupulous young men who complain about being relegated to “The Friend Zone,” as though their expectation of being kind, gentle men who treat women with egalitarian respect should be repaid for their friendship with some sort of benefits. The more recent encounters I have had with mean-spirited and scheming former spouses are seeking to resume abusive relationships, and violating restraining orders in hopes of whining, wheedling, cajoling, demanding, and threatening their way “back to normal.”

But of all the options Metzger suggests, the one that elicits the most repugnant memories is that of “a trustworthy rival.” I know that this is supposed to be “the right answer,” of course. But I don’t know why, any more than the intimidated Sunday Schooler who responded to her teacher’s badgering questions. “Come on, class, it’s not that hard a question. I live in a tree; I eat acorns; I have a bushy gray tail.” Her answer, “I know the answer’s supposed to be ‘Jesus,’ but it sure sounds like a squirrel to me!”

Unless, of course, you find someone to show you yours.

“A trustworthy rival?” Perhaps it’s my continued struggle with abandonment issues and the difficulty imagining that I should trust anyone with the authenticity, transparency, and vulnerability I try to live out in Christian integrity. But “trustworthy” doesn’t work for me. I don’t trust my fellow Christians. I make do with trusting Christ enough to compensate for putting myself at risk from what other Christians say and do. As for any rivals? In the context of poverty and scarcity, I want to know what it is we’re rivalling one another to obtain.

Rather than belabor my reactions further, I will say that there is great value in building friendships among those of differing religious and spiritual traditions. The advantage over Christian friendships is that followers of Jesus tend to believe that we all believe quite similarly, if not identically. In counseling, this is called “projection,” the assumption that others, especially where others fit our stereotypes and prejudices about ourselves, will believe and behave as we do.

Know friends, know yourself.

I would call the relationship between me and non-Christians friends one of “mutually-beneficial interrogators.” In the chart I remember from Psych 101 texts, what I know about myself extends beyond what others would know of me by observation. Likewise, though, what others know about me extends beyond what I would know of myself as well. Perfect strangers may ask of each other, “Why do you believe or behave as you do?” But where we develop friendships with those who refuse to assume that whatever they believe must also be our belief, the cumulative effects of such conversations reveal to them the answers to their questions, but may also reveal observations (and questions about them) of our beliefs and behaviors that would otherwise remain hidden from us.

So, when you see something about me that raises a question, please feel free to ask. Not only might your curiosity be gratified by my response, I may actually get to see something about myself that I would not have otherwise noticed! (For instance…my seething bitterness toward wife-beating rapists whose incestuous family members continue to fund their child-custody lawsuits…my overreaction to “mean-spirited and scheming ex-spouses” helped me realize where that comes from! Thanks, Paul.)