Failure:
This book opens with an introduction on how
the J.R. Briggs, the author, formed a team to host an “Epic Fail Pastors
Conference” in Pennsylvania. No glossy fliers or big marketing budget. The goal
was not to celebrate success or failure, but simply to celebrate faithfulness
in ministry and the need for grace and to acknowledge Jesus as the foundation
of all these pastors do in ministry and in life.[1]
Although Briggs’ team was convinced many pastors wrestle with thoughts of
failure, it would be a risk to host an event to help pastors develop a robust
theology of failure, but they sensed it was worth the risk of failure to do so.[2]
Interestingly in this conference, a pastor flew from Australia to attend
because he could not find anyone in his continent who was willing to talk
honestly about failure and ministry and this was the only safe space he could
find![3]
The reason why Briggs wrote a book on failure and ministry was because ministry
is fertile ground for failure, and failure is fertile ground for ministry.[4]
It is not a magic book of solution, nor is it really a book about failure in
ministry as the topic is so vast it cannot be covered in one book. What Briggs
wants to communicate is that failure is the crucible of character formation.[5]
Success:
Your definition of success has significant
implications, not only for you but also for those you are called to serve and
lead. And for many, how we’ve defined ministry success, or how we have allowed
others to define it for us, has created a dangerous metric that is inaccurate
and unsustainable.[6] James
Bryant Smith at the Apprentice Institute said we have failed to move from the
metric of ABC (attendance, buildings and cash) to D – discipleship.[7]
Numbers can help as a diagnostic tool of health but cannot be the final and
exclusive report card from which we derive an accurate grade of ministry. The
problem arises when we put an inordinate amount of emphasis on numbers and thus
downplay the role of stories. When people are seen as numbers we rob them of
their personhood and worth. A success-driving mindset in the church
overemphasizes technique and results, thus putting too much pressure on pastors
while undermining the importance of godly character and God’s sovereignty.[8]
Faithfulness:
Is faithfulness evidenced in the stories of what God
is doing in our congregation? Are people being formed and transformed by the work
of the story of God in their lives? Where are people serving, what are people
learning, how are people being shaped and formed in order to be a blessing to
others? Where are people hearing from God, and how are they responding to these
promptings?[9] Surefire
equations for success are not authentic. They can lead to trusting in methods
more than in the Messiah. Our lives and ministries will be assessed by
congruence, not efficiency. It is not found in productivity, competence or
progress as much as in the development of Christlike character and coherence of
our stories with the character of God. It does not find its value in the amount
of our results but in the depth of our relationships. It is not found worthy
through the valuation of numbers but through the evidence of stories. It is not
assessed through spreadsheets but through the ability to tell stories of hope
and redemption among the people we’re called to love. As Nouwen writes, “The
question is not: How many people take you seriously? How much are you going to
accomplish? Can you show some results? But: Are you in love with Jesus?”
Shame:
There are two key factors that significantly influence
human connection: vulnerability and shame.[10]
Shame is the great unspoken epidemic, the force behind many forms of broken and
destructive human behavior. Defined as the fear of disconnection, it is the
question that asks, “Is there something about me that if other people see it or
know it, will make me unworthy of connection?”[11]
To live in a constant state of shame is to experience hell on earth.
Ironically, what keeps us from connection is our fear of being unworthy of
connection. Those people who live from a deep sense of worthiness possess a
deep sense of courage: the courage to be imperfect. They treat themselves with
kindness and are able to show kindness to others. In the words of Jesus, they
are capable of loving neighbours as themselves. Where there is little
compassion for self, there can be little compassion for others.[12]
When we fail, it is nearly impossible to not feel at
least a slight twinge of shame. The fact that we feel shame is evidence that we
are indeed human. Shame is not inherently negative though shaming is.[13]
Shame can be a powerful tool to control and manipulate others. Pastors can be
skilled shame manipulators. The most dangerous thing one can do after a shaming
experience is to hide or bury the story.[14]
Vulnerability comes from the Latin word vulnerare,
meaning “to wound.” Quite literally it means capable of being wounded, open to
attack or damage. Vulnerability, when done voluntarily, is one of the most
courageous acts we can engage as humans. When we embrace vulnerability, we are
on the path to maturity. Vulnerability is not weakness. We cannot avoid
vulnerability; our only choice is a question of our level of engagement.[15]
Empathy is the antidote to shame. Shame needs three
things to grow exponentially: silence, secrecy and judgment. But when empathy
is present, shame cannot grow. The two most powerful words we can receive from
others when we are struggling are “me too”. It is tempting to believe we can
lead others only when we are perfect. As seductive as this thought may be, the
truth is, perfection will never happen.[16]
Loneliness:
Pastors can be the loneliest people in the church. We
are enmeshed in relationships. We know people. They want to meet with us to
share their burdens. Yet many pastors feel somewhat left out. Who are my real
friends? Who can relate to the unique position I am in as clergy? Who will be
with me to the end, through thick and thin?[17]
Fear drives us to create and fasten masks. Masks are
nothing more than emotional armor seducing us to believe we can remain
unscathed. We adapt our behaviours in creative and sometimes subtle ways with
motivations rooted in protecting ourselves from future exposure to pain. The
deeper the fear, the more creative we can be in our mask-making abilities. We
want to make Jesus look good to others by making ourselves look good to others.
We want to represent the brand well. But if we are only ministering
mask-to-mask, we never experience true life change. We are simply reinforcing
deceit in people who are called to bear the image of God, not keep up our own
images. Mask making and mask wearing are forms of deception and relational
manipulation, tools used to our advantage for protection. It is control.[18]
The masks we wear: “I’m the strong one”, “I’m
theologically educated”, “I’m spiritually mature”, “I’m not hurt”, “Do you know
how much I put up with?”, “I’m just like everyone else”, “I’m super busy”, “I
only struggle with the little, petty sins”, “See how vulnerable I am”.[19]
Mask wearing leads to loneliness and isolation.
Isolation often leads to addictions. It is easy to tell ourselves we can regain
our sanity through addiction, which is self-deception at its worst. Addictions
are powerful, enticing and damning. They are desperate attempts to keep us from
dealing with the painful truths about ourselves. We all have addictions, but
they come in varying degrees of social acceptability, eg. Pornography or
progress, alcohol or applause, sex or success, painkillers or email, food or
another late night at the church.[20]
Addictions try to keep us from knowing because deep down we are convinced the
pain would be unbearable. At the heart of addictions is self-deception. We all
have an enormous capacity to hide painful truths, especially the ones about
ourselves. We can easily hide behind ministry rationalization. We can’t lie to
other people until we first lie to ourselves. We can be easily tempted to
invest more in preserving our reputation and retaining our image than in
dealing with the true forces and motivations of our hearts. When we hide so
much under the rug, eventually we end up tripping over it. What motivates
reaching for masks can be fear, insecurity, pride, a desire to escape,
exhaustion and a desire to keep up the illusion we have created about
ourselves.[21] When
we root our identity and meaning in Christ, we are capable of drawing on our
courage and resisting reaching for a mask.[22]
Wounds:
Have you ever noticed that while two-thirds of psalms
are psalms of lament?[23]
While our culture tells us to do the respectable thing and control our
emotions, the psalmist unleashes his. The psalms have a tendency to make us
uncomfortable because they bring up difficult and sometimes unanswerable
questions about God and his world. Despite the discomfort, the psalmist does
not shy away from them. His range of anger, bitterness and resentment is
startling. If he lived today, anger management classes and intense counseling
might be a wise option![24]
And yet, David, who wrote many of these, is described as a man after God’s own
heart. Somehow, in the midst of the raw, blunt language, there is rooted trust.
Somehow God appreciates buck-naked honesty from his kids. Walter Brueggemann
writes that the psalms of lament were a way that Israel ordered its formless
grief and provided them with structure. There is form to the psalms of lament.
First, a cry of complaint to God. Eventually, there is a pivot point. Usually, though
not always, the psalmist is able to land in the lap of God, hoping and trusting
that Yahweh has heard his complaint and will choose to act. The psalms of
lament and their inherent structure can be the frame that focuses our prayers
when we’re completely out of sorts. They provide form to our formless cries and
shape to our shapeless complaints.[25]
When all that is precious to us has been stripped away and we stand naked
before God, there is tremendous freedom in saying, “This is who I am; now show
me who you are.”[26]
Wilderness:
Failure is a beautiful gift wrapped in an ugly
package. It can be one of the most ironic gifts God offers to us, but only if
we are willing to see it as such. Paul’s metaphor of jars of clay (2Corinthians
4:7) is striking. Paul focuses attention on the treasure. The treasure is not
the container but the contents within. We are broken pots, made of dirt,
possessing the hope of the good news of Jesus inside of us. It’s easy to focus
on the container and not what resides within. If we revere the container and
disregard the contents, we become pastors with no sense of gospel truthfulness.
No doubt, we are fragile souls. Despite being hard pressed in every direction,
deeply perplexed, severely persecuted and painfully struck down, we still have
hope because we possess something invaluable.[27]
The journey through the wilderness catalyzes our
spiritual fertilization. Despite the angst and anxiety, desert moments often
become moments to meet God, times when we are faced with our limitations and
forced to acknowledge we are unable to move forward on our own. When we are
aware o our limitations, God delights in showing himself and his limitless
character in ways a commentary, a conference or a seminary class never would.[28]
But the wilderness also exposes us to our vulnerability, both outside as well
as inside of us. There is a great deal of barrenness, chaos and desolation in
the wilderness, a vast, scorched landscape in desperate need of water. It is
easy to allow the idol of self-sufficiency to creep into our view of ministry
in times of success, but in the wilderness it is impossible. It is an absolute
dependence on God, or it is the end.[29]
The wilderness is a place of paradox. In the wilderness some of the great
people of Scripture had life-altering encounters with God: Moses, Elijah, Jacob
and David.[30]
Recovery:
Moving through the grieving process: Denial, anger,
bargaining, depression, acceptance.[31]
Reentry:
People change when the pain of staying the same is
greater than the pain of changing. Failure has a way of initiating a process of
change similar to what lobsters experience throughout their lifetime. In order
to grow, lobsters rid themselves of their hard, protective shells in order to
grow new shells. The process is called molting.[32]
Failure and vulnerability provide Christians with rich opportunities for growth
and maturity through spiritual molting. When we are molting, we seem to be
keenly aware of our risk and exposure to the harsh elements. But without
molting we will remain the size of our current shell forever. Without it, our
growth is stunted.[33]
The wisdom of failed and wounded pastors: 1) Share the
experience, 2) Have a guide, 3) Take care of your family, 4) Grieve, 5) Pursue
God, 6) Four specific practices: read the Scriptures, pray, spent significant
time silence and solitude, and attend another congregation, 7) Be teachable, 8)
Look to the future.[34]
Observations show: 1) A seven to fourteen month
recovery window. 2) Developing significant relationships with non-Christians
before reconnecting again with the larger Christian community. 3) A significant
and deeply meaningful “God moment.”[35]
Acceptance:
The “blessing at the end of the rope”: The first line
of the Beatitudes reads, “You’re blessed when you’re at the end of your rope.
With less of you there’s more of God and his rule” (Matthew 5:3 The Message).[36]
There are two words in Greek for time: chronos and kairos.
Chronos describe a very specific measurement of time, a sequence of events, for
example, 3:45 on a Tuesday afternoon. But kairos time is different. It
describes the more qualitative reality of time. If chronos deals with clocks
and calendars, kairos deals with moments and seasons. It is time pregnant with
possibility. Lawrence Cunningham describes kairos as “those moments, which are
decisive, which open up the opportunity for conversion or commitment… The
kairos moment happens each time God’s invitation in Christ is presented to us.”
Kairos time is rarely neutral; it leaves a mark on our lives, either positive
or negative. Our lives are measured by chronos time, but they are marked by
kairos time, and each one demands a response from us.[37]
Failure is always a Kairos moment. Our failures have a
way of reminding us that not only are we a part of the broken human race but
also that God can use us in our failings rather than disqualify us from our
callings. Mature leaders, who have experienced deep, indelible brokenness do
not feel the pressure to perpetually strive for the approval of others or have
a deep-seated need to impress those around them. A pastor who has been broken
already knowns what shame is, therefore there is little worry of being found
out or seen as a failure. Many experienced pastors refuse to bring other
pastors on their staff who have not been deeply wounded. They are convinced
that a severely wounded pastor who has experienced a marking kairos moment is
capable of pastoring other people well. In many ways failure, suffering and
pain are the prerequisite for effective ministry. They strip away the false
self and help us encounter the true self.[38]
Rhythms:
“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come
to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take
a real rest. Walk with me and work with me, watch how I do it. Learn the
unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep
company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly. (Matthew 11:28-30
The Message).[39] Unforced:
When a dance is forced, it is difficult to watch; when it is unforced, it is
beautifully graceful. Life with God is a dance. Rhythms: Rhythm brings consistency
and stability but it is not rote. They are practices saturated in life and liveliness.
Grace: The engine of the gospel runs on the fuel of grace. Life-giving rhythms
rooted in grace are beautiful. It is impossible to have forced rhythms of
grace; grace is always unforced.[40]
The need to breathe: Should the cabin lose pressure,
if I am unable to breathe, I cannot help others or myself. If am breathing
appropriately, I can help not just myself but others around me. We are called
to lead others, but our ministry comes out of the overflow of our own lives. We
must learn to gain the urgency for soul care and acknowledge the lie that
taking care of ourselves is selfish. We need to learn to breathe.[41]
Relationships and support: 1) Secure a mentor, coach,
or spiritual director. 2) Attend a small group you do not lead. 3) Find a
trusted Christian counselor. 4) Connect regularly with other pastors. 5)
Develop friends who don’t need you (sees you as a person first and as pastor
second). 6) Develop a prayer team with whom you can vent and be truly honest.[42]
Recalibration and realignment: 1) Give up reading
how-to ministry books (consider reading Eugene Peterson and Henri Nouwen). 2)
Journal – be raw, blunt and honest if needed. 3) Talk with your church leaders
about what success and failure look like. 4) Watch Brene Brown’s TED videos. 5)
Talk it out, cry, weep, yell. 6) Avoid conferences that promote Christian celebrities
and events that highlight ministry success. 7) Model the go-first principle
(people are waiting for permission to speak honestly and courageously about
their brokenness; that permission is granted when they see it done by the
person up front. Go first).[43]
Rediscovering rest and joy: 1) Practice Sabbath. 2)
Get out of the ZIP code (geographic distance helps people regain perspective). 3)
Exercise and eat well (our bodies are intricately connected to our souls).[44]
A different F-word:
The voluntary admission of our failure – the confession
of sin – is the threshold to the home of forgiveness. It is the entrance exam
to life in the kingdom and the key that opens the door to a restored
relationship with God. The very basis of our calling in ministry is predicated
on the admission of our failure. Satan is half-right: We are failures: broken
and sinful. The evil one will do his best to keep us locked in to only half of
the truth. The second half of the truth: God is love. Jesus is enough, we are
forgiven. The life, death and resurrection of Jesus change the F-word from the
sadness of failure to the challenge of faithfulness to the hope of freedom.[45]
Bibliography:
Wang, Ying-fan Yvonne. Dr Yvonne Wang’s Blabberings.
Last modified May 17, 2015. http://dryvonnewang.blogspot.com.au.
[1] J. R. Briggs, Fail: Finding
Hope and Grace in the Midst of Ministry Failure (Downers Grove:
InterVarsity Press, 2014), 18.
[2] Briggs, Fail, 19.
[3] Briggs, Fail, 20.
[4] Briggs, Fail, 22.
[5] Briggs, Fail, 24.
[17] Briggs, Fail, 85.
[18] Briggs, Fail, 90.
[19] Briggs, Fail, 91-93.
[20] Briggs, Fail, 94.
[21] Briggs, Fail, 95.
[22] Briggs, Fail, 96.
[23] Briggs, Fail, 106.
[24] Briggs, Fail, 107-108.
[25] Briggs, Fail, 108.
[26] Briggs, Fail, 109.
[27] Briggs, Fail, 112.
[28] Briggs, Fail, 113.
[29] Briggs, Fail, 114.
[30] Briggs, Fail, 115.
[31] Briggs, Fail, 124-130.
[32] Briggs, Fail, 133.
[33] Briggs, Fail, 134.
[34] Briggs, Fail, 134-140.
[35] Briggs, Fail, 141-142.
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