Our world likes to paint with broad strokes. Categorize people. Put them in a box. It’s common to all of us. We can’t possibly know the intricacies and idiosyncrasies of every person we meet…so we slap a label on them so that we know how to identify them…how to think about them.
But we miss so much when we do this. We miss the heart. We miss the uniqueness of each individual. We miss our common humanity.
I chose the three descriptors above…conservative…evangelical…pastor… because they would be the common terms used to pigeon-hole me into a particular segment of our society. But they do not define me as a person. They only scratch the surface.
In around AD 400, Augustine wrote his classic, Confessions. It was revolutionary for its time. It was part autobiography…part philosophy…part theology…part psychology. Autobiographies existed back then but most of them exalted the author, downplayed weaknesses, framed them as heroes. Augustine instead exposed his weaknesses, his doubts, and his struggles…and exalted the sovereignty, grace, and mercy of Jesus Christ.
In the spirit of Confessions, I wanted to write a few of my own confessions at this stage in my life…having lived 51 years…and at this stage in my Christian life…having trusted Christ around 39 years ago.
Confession #1. I don’t have it all together.
I guess that should go without saying. None of us have it all together. But there is often a misconception that pastors somehow don’t struggle with every day problems, that they have some kind of special spiritual immunity that insulates them from anxiety, depression, discouragement, doubt.
As Christians, we often reinforce this misconception.
In our image-based culture, we try to portray the Christian life as a never-ending source of joy and happiness. “Who has problems? Certainly not us! We are believers in Jesus Christ!”
Believing in Jesus is almost seen as a “happy pill.” Become a Christian and you will feel better, live longer, have a better marriage, have well-mannered kids, and never lose your temper while stuck in traffic.
Christian maturity is oftentimes equated with stoicism. In other words, the more mature you are as a Christian, the less emotion you are to have in the face of the difficulties and tragedies of life.
Suck it up. Chin up. Cheer up. Cover up.
Wherever this view came from, it didn’t come from Scripture. Some of the greatest saints in Scripture had the biggest failures…and experienced the most intense of emotions.
David was described as a man after God’s own heart…not because he lived a perfect life…far from it (just ask Uriah)…and not because he lived like a robotic, emotional-less stoic in the face of life’s difficulties…not even close. David’s psalms cry out to God with intense emotion, pain, honesty, and tears.
Save me, O God! For the waters have come up to my neck!
I sink in deep mire, where there is no standing.
I come into deep waters, where the floods overflow me.
I am weary with my crying.
My throat is dry.
My eyes fail while I wait for my God. (Psalm 69:1-3)
Moses cries out:
I am not able to bear all these people alone, because the burden is too heavy for me! If you treat me like this, please kill me here and now–if I have found favor in Your sight–and do not let me see my wretchedness! (Numbers 11:14-15)
Job laments:
Why did I not die at birth?
Why did I not perish when I came from the womb? …
Why is light given to him who is in misery,
And life to the bitter of soul,
Who long for death, but it does not come? …
For the thing l greatly feared has come upon me,
And what I dreaded has happened to me.
I am not at ease, nor am I quiet;
I have no rest, for trouble comes. (Job 3:11, 20, 25-26)
In the New Testament, Saul…the self-righteous, have it all together, angry, zealous Pharisee…becomes Paul, the apostle…who boasts in his weaknesses…weeps for his countrymen…despairs of his life…and feels all of the emotional burdens and concerns of the churches that he planted and ministered to.
Bottom line…
Coming to Jesus does not make you “feel better” …it makes you feel more deeply.
It doesn’t deaden your heart…it awakens it.
It doesn’t numb your emotions…it enlivens them.
And in the security of grace…in the incredible realization that you are loved with an everlasting love…you are finally free to be honest with yourself…honest before God…honest with others.
Security allows vulnerability.
Vulnerability allows intimacy.
It is the gospel of Jesus Christ that brings us to a simple realization: I don’t have it all together.
I am impacted by sin.
I am dysfunctional.
But, God in His grace, through Jesus Christ, has loved me, saved me, adopted me, embraced me, changed me.
Not so that I can pretend that now I have it all together. But so that I can freely admit that I don’t.
So that in my dysfunction, I can lean upon His wholeness.
In my woundedness, I can find His healing.
In my anxiety, I can rest in His sovereignty.
In my weakness, I can experience His strength.
In my life, I have come face to face with anxiety, depression, and discouragement on many occasions. Being a pastor does not make me immune from these experiences. Indeed, to be a true shepherd of souls I should expect them.
It is the broken vessel that learns to stay under the faucet of God’s ever-flowing grace…and it is through the cracks that God’s blessings can stream out upon others.
Another well written piece that speaks to my heart. Thank you, Pastor Steve. I hope you are compiling these writings so you can one day put them into a book that will speak to others in times forward. Clare
Thanks, Clare! Not sure if you realized that I recently wrote a book called Heelcatcher. It is a retelling of the story of Jacob interwoven with stories from my own life. It is something that has been on my mind for the past ten years. I am thankful that I finally had a chance to sit down and write it. If you get a copy, I pray that it encourages you!