Drew Anderson - Jeremiah's Vow

Why I don’t say “but Sundays coming” on Good Friday

It’s a seemingly innocent phrase I know. But I’m concerned that it has actually created some serious struggles within many people’s relationship with God.

And I do think these kinds of phrases that “wish away” or “skip ahead” of the reality of Silent Saturday are a small example of the context that has created much of the deconstruction happening right now.

Because it’s one thing to say “but Sundays coming.” And it’s another thing to actually live with the reality of Silent Saturday.

For many, it creates a spiritual dissonance. It ignores a crucial reality of the Christian life.

And most times it reveals that we as Christians can misunderstand God, and thus miss His invitation into what He has for us in embracing Silent Saturday.

We can misunderstand when God seems to be silent.

We can misunderstand when God seems to be inactive.

We can misunderstand when God seems to be distant.

These misunderstandings are fairly consistent among God’s people historically and still today.

Many Christians (myself included for too much of my life) were not taught sufficiently how to understand when it seems like God is silent, inactive, or distant.

Though theologically most of us know that because of God’s self-revelation through Creation, Scripture, and Jesus – He could never actually be considered silent, inactive, nor distant.

It still feels this way many times for many people. And it’s a struggle to understand what’s going on when we experience these things…

And we aren’t the only ones who have wrestled with these realities.

Of course, Job is the most extensive story on God being seemingly silent, inactive, and distant.

However, we also see these realities in the final days of Jesus.

In his time in prayer in the garden where God appears to be silent.

In his time during the trial and beatings where God appears to be inactive.

And in his time on the cross where God appears to be distant.

Remember:

“He was despised and rejected – a man of sorrows, acquainted with deepest grief…He was oppressed and treated harshly, yet he never said a word. He was led like a lamb to the slaughter. And as a sheep is silent before the shearers, he did not open his mouth. Unjustly condemned, he was led away…He had done no wrong and had never deceived anyone. But he was buried like a criminal; he was put in a rich man’s grave…”
Isaiah 53:1-12 (NLT)

So how do we understand these experiences?

I would propose that Silent Saturday holds the key to understanding them.

And most of us have not embraced Silent Saturday enough to have gleaned the lesson it has for us.

Either our emphasis is on Good Friday – usually focused on man’s activity of sin & repentance,

Or on Resurrection Sunday – usually focused on God’s activity of grace & salvation,

Has many times caused us to minimize or ignore completely Silent Saturday and what this day of “inactivity” means for us.

Silent Saturday is an invitation into the in-between, into the already-not yet, into the every day life experience of the Christian.

You see, the majority of experiences in life are those between the lows and highs.

They’re the times waiting on something or someone.

They’re the times where answers aren’t clear.

They’re the times that you know what’s next but aren’t there yet.

They’re the times when God is likely inviting you into knowing Him beyond your own activity or your need for His activity.

When He is saying:

Just allow me to be with you

and allow yourself to be with me,

without needing anything from me

or imposing an expectation on yourself that you think I have of you.

When He is saying:

Just be quiet.

Still your soul.

And trust me.

When He is saying:

It’s okay if you need to focus on the every day things of life,

just know that I’m in those too just as much as I’m in the highs and lows.

See, it’s the invitation of Silent Saturday that informs a full understanding of a relationship with God.

Something beyond simply being saved by Him or servants of Him.

But instead being His friends [John 15:15].

Without it we find ourselves stuck in the cycle of our continual need for God to constantly be at work “saving us from our sins.”

Death and Resurrection, while crucial components, are not the full Gospel story.

Burial is a crucial part of the story.

Silence is in the middle of death and life.

The space between Friday and Sunday is the space relationships are made of.

And it’s a space God is inviting you to spend time in this Holy Week.

Don’t miss His invitation amid the commotion of the cross and the crowds.

He’ll be there.

Expecting you’ll know Him.

In the silence of Saturday.

Can we still ask questions when revival comes?

I want to start by unequivocally stating that I am for how God started to and continues to move at Asbury during a chapel service last Wednesday.

College was a crucial time in my own spiritual story. And so I’m always happy to see college students experience the same thing.

I’ve also seen many others going to join in on what’s happening in Asbury in order to experience it. And I’m excited to see how it has rejuvenated their faith in real ways.

Overall, I’m always thankful when I see people having genuine encounters with the God who wants to be their friend. And this instance is no different.

But that’s also why I want to share how I’m processing a crossroads of emotions when it comes to naming something a “revival,” the Gen Z as a “chosen generation” insinuations I’ve been seeing, and what in recent years has been inconsistent support (or lack thereof) for various expressions of “revival.”

Why?

Because I’m concerned we can find ourselves blinded in these revivalistic situations to the wholeness of what God is doing.

We can find ourselves unwilling to address potential blindness that has been around for a while within contexts we are most familiar with.

We can unintentionally put our hopes in something God does instead of who God is and who He wants us to be.

I’ve spoken to others feeling similar ways but who are nervous about voicing it for fear of coming across as “against” how God is working.

We don’t have these feelings because we don’t long to see God move, or haven’t seen Him move in our own lives and ministry settings – time and time again.

Those I’ve spoken to are not against the movements of God. We are for them. We’ve been a part of them. Most of us still are. Just not in the same box we once used to think God’s movements happened in.

We just have questions about what I’ve been calling spiritual dissonance that seems to exist in the midst of what is happening (and has existed for some time now).

I’ve been defining spiritual dissonance as an inconsistency in behavior, attitude and/or thoughts concerning someone’s (or a group’s) expressed faith statements and what really gets experienced by those around them.

And I actually think if we will deal with the dissonance – instead of ignoring it all out of the fear of offending someone – a revival might genuinely spread farther than it has in a long time.

Don’t think I’m posting these things lightly or hastily. It’s taken me a week to unpack the reasons I’m struggling, and here’s what I’ve talked with Jesus about so far…

FIRST

I am unsure why we need to label something “revival” so quickly.

Merely 3 hours into the continuous worship service at Asbury we were already seeing this language. Similar worship services are popping up elsewhere and people are immediately calling them “revival.”

Why do we “need” God to be at work in this specific way or measure up to our expectations of such words?

That’s a real point of wrestling for me.

What God is doing is not what I’m questioning. I’m asking why we need it to be “something” instead of just being present to and describing what is happening.

Especially when we mix social media into it, the lines blur between attention grabbing and sharing what’s going on. Definitely once we escalate the language to using words like “revival” and “awakening.” Those are loaded words.

This has been a problem for a long time in the recent American church culture. The use of words that hype things instead of just describe them.

It’s a weird dissonance since we believe in a God who doesn’t need to be hyped.

I’ll be honest, it comes across as us needing God “to move” more than us just needing God alone.

I’ve seen this across the spectrum of denomination and theological preference. This deep need for God to be “at work” as opposed to just allowing God to “be.”

Revival involves a heightened awareness of God’s presence.

Can’t we just be present to that heightened awareness of Him, instead of needing to name it something so quickly?

SECOND

I’m not sure the things I’ve already seen being spoken over this generation are helpful for them nor actually helpful for spreading “revival.”

I am (in generational terms) an elder millennial.

My generation was spoken over by our spiritual fathers and mothers as if we were a “chosen generation” to bring revival so many times I can’t count.

Remember, we are the WWJD and True Love Waits “purity ring” generation told to be like Jesus in every area of our life.

We are the the Passion Conference’s 268 generation fulfilling the promise of God to raise up a new generation of Christian leaders to change the world.

We are the World Changers, World Race, Charity:Water, TOMS generation (and on I could go listing numerous organizations) that come out of the “change the world” complex we were handed.

We are a generation that popularized youth worship bands and attended packed out youth group conferences across the nation.

We are a generation that has ushered in the era of worship concerts and worship bands becoming chart topping recording artists.

And we are now a generation that is in widespread deconstruction of many of these things.

Being a part of a generation who has experienced all this is why the “Gen Z as a chosen generation” insinuations reveal such a dissonance.

Are we just going to repeat the mistakes with this generation that were made with my generation?

Are things being spoken over them that could lead to the same disillusionment it has for so many in my generation?

Instead, couldn’t we just give them the space to, at their own pace, embrace the work of God in their lives and in the world thru them?

Without it needing to “lead” to something like “revival.”

Can’t we just encourage them and be present to what is happening and not what we desire something to become?

THIRD

Probably the largest reason for my mixed emotions deals with a cultural bias that I can no longer look past in the church world.

Actually, it’s the blindness of not being able to see a major cultural bias that continues to be present in many quarters of Christ’s body.

One example of it relates to what happened just a couple years ago when revivals were breaking out on the streets. In the midst of the protests and pain of racial injustice, we were seeing worship services, salvations, baptisms, miracles. The reports of what was happening were amazing!

But I didn’t see my social media feeds blow up with the same excitement about those moves of God in the same way it is with the current one. Instead I saw skepticism and cynicism.

I didn’t see many of these same church leaders and people flocking to those revivals like they’re flocking to this one. Instead I saw discouraging remarks or at best distant platitudes offered.

I have many thoughts on why, but I’ll only share just a few.

It’s easy to support a “revival” when it fits into the box of the cultural expectations we have as to how “revival” should come.

Of where we’ve been taught God should be moving.

Of whom we’re used to expecting to see God at work among.

Of historically who we’ve become accustomed to “revivals” as starting with.

Of politically who we’ve been influenced to believe are the real Christians who must have the Holy Spirit.

I’ll be blunt: this current “revival” fits the right box for majority white American church culture.

It started at a majority white Christian college, in their chapel, expressed thru an ongoing time of worship and personal confession and scripture reading and such.

It fits. Its comfortable. It’s normative.

But because it’s firmly planted within a specific set of cultural expectations, it’s also disconnected from how God has been at work among His people who do not see those specific cultural settings as normative.

There are other “moves of God” and “revivals” that have been happening across various church circles, that don’t check this same cultural box, all over the country for a while now.

Many in those circles have been experiencing such movements for decades even.

Maybe you haven’t seen or heard about them because they don’t fit in the box that would get the approval or attention of majority culture.

Maybe they just happened in places that didn’t get the same coverage as this one is getting.

But they’ve been just as real. And just as “revivalistic.”

Spontaneous prayer vigils going for days.

Worship services that last however long they need to.

Miracles.

Salvations.

Testimonies.

Confessions.

Altars flooded.

The Spirit moving.

Some of these things are even normative in church cultures that the majority white church culture has struggled to fully embrace.

And yet when they happen in these cultural contexts that aren’t normative to majority church culture – the same support, acknowledgement, social media frenzy, and flocking to be a part doesn’t seem to follow.

This reveals a blindness.

A blindness along the lines of cultural preference. It’s a cultural bias. And we can say it’s cultural because it’s not cultivating a unified community.

It’s a bias that has kept us siloed and consistently isolated from others who are also members of the one body of Christ.

If we’re honest, this blindness is not about whether something is a “revival” or not – but rather whether God is moving in the way and among the people I’m comfortable with or not.

SO WHAT NOW?

I will continue to struggle with all 3 of these areas of spiritual dissonance, while also praying for a continued experience of God’s presence in what is happening. Not just at Asbury, but all over the Church.

I won’t let any of these feeling keep me from continuing to pray that what is happening would spread.

It’s not an either-or for me.

But it is an acknowledgment of the reality of these things.

And of the crossroads of my own life experiences, cross-cultural relationships, and ministry contexts.

I am not against what is happening.

I am not skeptical of it.

It’s genuine.

And I am for it.

But I also just can’t act like these other things aren’t still very real at the exact same time.

Or else I wouldn’t be true to what the Spirit of God has been “reviving” in my own relationship with Him and His people for decades now.

See, I was a part of a church that experienced a year and a half long revival when I was a teenager. You’ve never heard of it, just as most of us never hear of most of these things.

And then just last month I spent a weekend leading a retreat with Gen Z teenage guys where we saw the Spirit move in powerful and humble ways, just as we’re seeing at these colleges.

I’ve experience a number of “revival” moments throughout my life. That sort of movement of God is a part of my lived experience.

So my struggle is not with the work of God happening right now in peoples lives. It is with the dissonance that seems to continue to remain unaddressed in many of these settings.

My goal is not negativity. But it is honesty.

I don’t know what God’s plans are.

I hope it’s to spread “revival” across all our lives. Across all our churches. Across our nation and our world.

If I didn’t want that, I wouldn’t be a part of an international prayer movement seeking that very thing.

So, seek “revival.”

Go to Asbury or expect it right where you are.

But also be cautious about the expectations you place on God and others concerning such things. And make sure to look for it even when it doesn’t fit into your expected cultural box.

God is with us. He has always been.

In the “revivals” we’ve experienced.

In the ones we’ve overlooked.

And in the everyday ways that never get called “revival.”

My plan is to stay true to the path He’s got me on and pray for those on the path He’s got them on.

And hopefully all of our paths will cross, and all of our dissonance will be resolved, into a beautiful unity that leads to widespread revival.

May it be so, Lord.

May it be so.

Re-personalizing God

Maybe you’ve heard the quote: “Many professing Christians, for all practical purposes, live as functional atheists…” – Dan DeWitt, Jesus or Nothing

Many times in today’s American Church culture we have been taught to de-personalize God and treat him in such a way that we are living as atheists even if we are talking like people of faith.

In fact, we have gotten so skilled at over-spiritualized language in the Church that we can convince others (and most times ourselves) that we are in a relationship that we are not actually in…

Depersonalizing God is like saying we are married but not actually living with our spouse.

Sure, on paper you may have a marriage license. But for all intents and purposes you are not actually married. You might call them your partner, but your lived experience says you are single.

This is what too many in the American Church have experienced, and then been told by someone that’s what a relationship with God is like.

And it’s an absolute tragedy.

I know, because “the faith that was delivered to me” looked a lot like that for too much of my life (as opposed to “the faith that was once for all delivered to the saints” spoken of in Jude 1:3).

I recognize the difficulty of relating to this God is who simultaneously incarnate and holy, personal and divine, and king and friend.

But that is the very task that is before us as the Church.

Making a distant-God normative for Christianity is not the solution. Yet many times this is done, whether intentionally or not.

One easy example would be in how we speak to God.

So many times we use “public” language, lofty words, or repetitive phrases. We throw requests at Him like he’s a vending machine or a genie. We “invoke” His presence like He’s the force.

Or some even “overcorrect” in a way that ironically creates the same problem by talking to him like they would text their boyfriend or girlfriend.

All of these things do not create the space to relate to God in the personal way He desires.

If we will allow Him, and follow in the well-worn pathways that generations of Christians before us have walked, He will lead us into the kind of relationship He so desires.

The problem seems to be that we mostly abandoned those well-worn paths.

We’ve “innovated” our faith into impersonal patterns that require things of God He does not necessarily desire of a relationship with Him.

There’s a dissonance going on when we depersonalize God. And we’ve got to re-personalize Him before we can do anything else for the kingdom.

We can begin by recovering the well-worn paths of the first disciples and early church.

We can eat meals together in one another’s home as means to share in the Eucharist.

We can pray together – pray over one another, pray for those we care about, pray about things we need, pray in thankfulness for all we have.

We can meditate on the Scriptures together – allowing each person to bring their full selves to the fullness of the Bible and seeing how God meets them in it.

We can be generous together by sharing when someone in our faith family has a need.

We can care for one another, forgive one another, listen to one another, and be the very hands, feet, and presence of Jesus to all those we encounter.

As we live out these very personal and communal ways of faith we will recover a relationship with the deeply personal and communal God we declare to know.

May we allow God to live with and among us in such a mysteriously personal way that those around us come to know Him just by being among us.

A Reflection on the Irony of Methodist Denominations and the Kingdom of God

I fell in love with the work of God in and thru the Moravians in my “Church Since The Reformation” church history class in Seminary.

I know that may sound weird. But the Moravians captivated me.

To the point that I forced my wife to go with me to Winston Salem, NC to go see the first Moravian community that formed in the United States.

The struggle and imperfection of the people.

The difficulty of living in close community with one another.

The devotion to prayer (almost 100 years of 24-7 prayer) and confession.

The dedication to taking the Gospel to the whole world (before it was easy – they’d literally send family members off on boats to unknown places only to never see them again).

Hardly any of us in today’s world commit ourselves to anything like these people committed themselves to one another and to God, if we’re honest.

Then, shortly after Seminary, I fell in love with the Wesleys and the Methodist movement in the same way.

Of course, I had learned about them in that same class. But there was something about the practicality of working in a church that created the context for the principles of the Methodist movement to come alive for me.

The desire for all people to hear the Gospel – not just “preach” in a church gathering.

The intentionality of grouping people together to care for one another’s souls.

The balance of relational structures with Spirit-led movement.

Just like the Moravians, it took my breath away. How God was at work in and through people in such normal and yet powerful ways.

And these movements captured me because the Spirit who is in me resonated with the same Spirit in those people. The same Spirit that has always been ushering in the kingdom of God.

Thru the elders and craftsmen of Israel.

Thru the prophets and poets of the Old Testament.

Thru the disciples and apostles of the New Testament.

Thru the priesthood of all believers of the Church today.

The love I felt that drew me toward these movements was the very love of God for His people, actually for all people that He wants to come to know His love.

And this is why, after “swimming in the Methodist waters” for the last nearly decade, I’ve grown even more confused by the “denominationalization” of the kingdom of God.

Yes I just made up a word.

And this isn’t just true of Methodists. I have friends in so many denominations that started as kingdom movements and yet now, let’s just be honest, aren’t.

So we must ask ourselves: Why are denominations consistently the place that kingdom movements go to die or become dormant?

And then secondly, and potentially more importantly, if thats true, then: Why do we keep creating the same things expecting different results?

So many Christian leaders continue to say they want to be a part of something like these kingdom movements that happened outside and alongside the established religious structures of their day, but then attempt to do the work of kingdom movement within the structures that have consistently not allowed for kingdom movement. And then are confused when it doesn’t work.

It’s either ironic or insane. I can’t decide which anymore.

It’s what I did for nearly half of my life. I kept holding out hope for “renewal” or “revitalization” or “reformation.”

But over the last 7 years or so I’ve been asking myself: Is that really how resurrection happens though?

So for the last several years I’ve made it pretty clear that I think God is doing something he’s done before, if people are willing to follow Him into it.

Something He did in Acts.

Something He did in the Monastics.

Something He did in the Moravians and the Methodists and other modern kingdom movements.

He’s calling entire communities of people into renewed relationship with Him and one another.

Not for the “purpose” of revival or awakening. Just simply for the purpose of His love.

Not with a “plan” of creating the next big thing or fast-moving, multiplication model. Just simply with a plan to devote themselves to one another and to Him.

Prayer and presence will mark these communities.

Hospitality and hope will be their commitment.

Sacrificial love and sustainable life rhythms will become their pious work.

Hidden acts of service and homes filled with God’s presence will permeate all they do.

The thing that unites them won’t be organizational, nor performative, nor attractional, nor visionary.

It will be incarnation.

Real life with one another, with God.

They will work and play full of the Spirit.

They will raise kids and grandkids and other’s kids together in the faith.

They will work thru conflict and practice forgiveness as a means of grace.

They will listen and give generously and celebrate God’s creation.

They will be a kingdom movement. Whether they have a name or logo or website or building or bylaws is irrelevant. It will barely cross their mind if at all.

Because they will have one another.

And they will have God’s presence.

And after all, isn’t that what this whole Advent of the kingdom we just celebrated is all about anyways?

God with us.

God among us.

God experienced through our relationships with one another in the midst of our every day life.

That’s incarnation.

That’s a kingdom movement.

It’s simply beautiful.

And it captivates the depth of my very soul.

The Good News: Incarnation

The least possible evidence that someone has believed the Gospel of Jesus is that they center their lives upon trying to get people to show up to something in order to hear a verbal presentation of this Gospel.

The least possible evidence that someone has believed the Gospel [which literally means “good news”] of Jesus is that they center their lives upon trying to get people to show up to something in order to hear a verbal presentation of this Gospel.

Acknowledging that reality is important when phrases like “just preach the Gospel” are being thrown around as “solutions” to injustices that exist.

It’s fascinating when you begin to explore what this “good news” actually is, why it matters, and what it actually means to believe in it.

To do that, you have to consider and start with the entire narrative of Scripture.

The God we read about in the Bible is the one who created us by sending His very breath into us. This God is the one who became human in order to enter into humanity to live with us. This God is the one who sent His Spirit to now live within each of us. And this God is the one who will not “bring us up into heaven” but instead has been bringing heaven to earth this whole time and eventually will redeem or recreate earth and heaven fully.

This is the God of incarnation. And that’s good news!

Why?

Because incarnation is not just some fancy theological word. It is essential to the nature of who God is, and it means that God is always “getting to us.”

Most Christians will tell you that the Scripture teaches that we can’t get to God. And whether that is true or not is almost beside the point. Because the nature of God never allows for that instance to exist. Just because of who He is, He is always “getting to us.”

This God of incarnation is the God of every day life. Of showing up when and where we are. Of managing to meet us in our mess and not expecting us to clean up our mess to get to Him – or more correct, clean it up before He can get to us.

The truth is this: too much of this history of the Church has miscommunicated this reality.

Not necessarily through words. But certainly through actions.

The Church has most consistently taught with its actions that we do not actually believe complete incarnation to be the trajectory of the Scriptures and the very nature of God.

Instead, it has been communicated through actions that the center of the Christian life is a weekly gathering, for a specified period of time, in a facility that is owned or rented, that we should be trying to get everyone to show up to. And that this is (incompletely) called “church.”

Which communicates that this is a necessary and important outcome of the Gospel.

But is it?

This isn’t actually a question about whether or not gathering should happen. It will happen as a natural outcome of being made in the image of God, and of being “the church.”

It is a question about what the place of gathering is: What is its actual role? How much of our focus does it deserve (especially since it seemed to get so little of the God of the Bible’s attention while He was here on earth)? How much impetus should we place on it (when it seems to be described as a small part of the overall lifestyle of the Church in Acts done in mostly normal, everyday sorts of ways)?

There will be those who get upset at this attempt to take incarnation to its full implications. To “work it out” beyond the least possible evidence of it, to a mature understanding of its inworking and outworking in our lives.

Many of those who may become upset will be religious professionals or dedicated “church goers” (as “church” is being defined above).

But there is very little doubt what someone believes to be most important in their life if you just follow their actions, or their money, or their time. No matter what their lips say. Jesus taught us this.

And if you follow those things in the functioning of almost every single “church” I know of, they will tell you that gathering people is the single most important thing “the church” does. It’s honestly not even close. Somewhere between 75-90% of almost every church’s actions, money, and time spent is on gathering people.

Facilities are built around it. Staff are hired around it. Programs are run around it. And schedules are created around it. Whether it is getting people to show up or what happens once they do, by the actions of all involved (myself included for much of my “ministry life”) we have communicated what we believe is most central to “the Church” and thus to “the Gospel.”

Now here me loud and clear: gathering is important.

But we rightfully should ask what its importance is and are we rightfully placing it in the correct spot in importance level.

And we should rightfully acknowledge that gathering is the least possible evidence of our internalizing of the presence of God (incarnation being essential to who He is) into our lives.

Actively treating gathering as the most central aspect of the life of the Christian ultimately runs contrary to what we read in the Scriptures. The Gospel of incarnation, as displayed perfectly by Jesus (God incarnate), does not centralize gathering people.

And that must start to be said loud and clear if we are to reclaim the Gospel fully again – the literal good news of God for the entire world.

We must lament the reality that we have believed the Gospel only in part. Only in its most basic, elementary form. And thus we have placed gathering as the most important part of our Christian lives.

And so I join together with all those willing to acknowledge this, and look to Jesus once more as our guide to imaging God in this world. In doing so, may we fully reflect to the world “God with us” this Advent.

An open letter to “church experts” trying to lead the conversation on people “leaving”

Another good title would be: Why leaving a ministry job might be saving their souls, and why you should stop talking about them.

[If you haven’t read the pontifications of church “experts” about why people are leaving ministry jobs, then you can if you’d like. There are so many opinions on the stats out there and I’ve grown tired of reading them (just Google about Barna stats and “the Great Resignation”).]

To the Church Experts,

I am saddened by how you are talking about people leaving ministry jobs (or thinking about leaving).

It reveals a great deal of ignorance.

It also displays a great deal of insecurity.

One of the main evidences of these things is that the way you talk is simply a guilt trip clothed in Biblical language or “Christianeze.”

STOP SPEAKING BEFORE LISTENING

There are 3 main things I wish you would take time to explore by listening to those “leaving” before speaking any further about them:

1. Most are becoming ministers in a new way. They are not “leaving” ministry.

Framing what’s happening as “leaving ministry” reveals an unfortunate ignorance of what ministry is, who is expected to be in ministry, and where the locus of ministry takes place.

That people say phrases like this in general is lamentable enough.

But then that you would apply them to someone who is leaving a job working for a ministry is detrimental.

When you do this, you have just communicated to others that “real ministry” is only what happens when those who are in leadership and/or work for the ministry are doing it.

And that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Too often I’ve seen you talk out of both sides of your mouth when it comes to this topic. You tell people to find their place in ministry generally, but then create a special category for those who are especially “qualified.”

As long as someone is following Jesus and living, they’re in ministry. It is just a question as to who they are in ministry to and with.

It’s a weird dynamic when “church experts” misunderstand, or simply contradict, their own teaching that everyone is a minister and we just have different roles within this thing called ministry.

A believer doesn’t leave ministry. They simply change contexts and roles.

For those who have left ministry jobs behind, they have not “left ministry.” And for you to say so as a supposed church expert only further reveals the ignorance that exists about what ministry is and who is “in ministry” among God’s people today.

2. Most are allowing their calling to be integrated into the rest of their lives. They are not “abandoning” a calling.

This is one point of contention that I am very passionate about.

There are two main issues I have with how people have been taught to understand calling (and they’re related): 1) too many people confuse their calling with their identity, and 2) too many never integrate their calling with the rest of their lives.

It’s ironic that these two issues seem divergent and yet are not in the least.

Your calling is not who you are.

Who you are is foundational. Your calling builds upon that.

And if you haven’t dealt with that, then your calling becomes the tail wagging the dog. And it creates all sorts of confusion and pain.

It also typically means you’ve separated out your calling from the rest of your life.

A whole person who starts with the foundation of who they are being the most important thing to God, is then fully capable of understanding their calling as an integrated part of their life.

People aren’t “called to ministry” as separate from “called to their family.” These aren’t competing values for someone who correctly understands and lives into what God is calling them to. They are one and the same.

And so, just like the last point, when understood correctly, someone is not actually abandoning a calling. They might stop living out that calling in a certain way. But the calling isn’t gone.

They may have misunderstood it, confused it with their identity, or separated it out from their entire life. But they haven’t abandoned it.

The pain caused by how you “church experts” are misspeaking about the concept of calling is causing trauma upon trauma upon trauma in most people’s lives who are leaving a ministry job.

When you tell them they have abandoned their calling, it only retraumatizes them or causes them new trauma to the already difficult circumstances of changing careers.

The pain that’s being caused by your words when you actually think you’re helping is heartbreaking.

3. Most are courageously following Jesus by doing what they’ve challenged others to do for years: to live out their faith in a non-Christian workplace and community.

The absolute craziest part of the confusion you’re causing as “church experts” in this conversation is the fact that when someone leaves a ministry job and becomes a person following Jesus out in the workforce, they become the very thing you continually give lip service to being the most important thing a Christian can be: a missionary.

The person leaving a ministry job is simply following to its logical conclusion the single most important theological belief we hold to as Christians: incarnation.

They are locating themselves, with all the skills they’ve developed to care for people (pastor), to convey truths in relevant ways (teacher), to walk with someone thru coming to know Jesus (evangelist), to speak in love the mysteries of God (prophet), and to do it among people who may never come to know God unless someone goes to where they are (apostle).

They’re literally embodying out in the world the entirety of the gifts God has given to the Church by making the very decision you are now critiquing them for making.

This is not only confusing to the person going thru it [who feels like they’re actually doing what the Gospel compels them to do like every other Christian in the world], but it is also confusing to every other Christian who has been told to live as a missionary out in the world yet are watching the person leaving a ministry job being shamed for becoming a missionary.

The way you “church experts” have spoken about those leaving (or thinking about leaving) has created such a convoluted context for this conversation that it’s nearly impossible to even have it anymore.

It’s angering if I’m honest.

I have sympathy for you as you’re trying to do your best to wrestle with something you were wrongly taught, but unfortunately you are now becoming the one wrongly teaching it.

STOP KICKING THEM WHILE THEY ARE DOWN

All of this doesn’t even get into the emotional and spiritual damage that’s being done to people “on their way out.”

You “church experts” consistently lament how difficult it is to be in ministry, how ministry leaders get wrongly critiqued by others, and how people need to support ministry leaders during these difficult times…

But then you turn around and kick them while they’re down…and that shouldn’t be lost on anyone.

It’s “church-culture acceptable” spiritual abuse honestly. And I won’t refrain from calling it that.

I’ve been the recipient of it. And I will not remain silent on behalf of those who have made such a difficult decision to only be abused in the process.

STOP DE-PERSONALIZING WHAT IS HAPPENING

I’m in ongoing conversations with at least a dozen people who have left ministry jobs over the last 2 years. Each of them have left for varying reasons. To lump them all together as a statistic would be to miss what is actually happening in this moment in the Church in America.

Each story of those I speak with are as uniquely beautiful and complicatedly gut-wrenching as the next.

And you’ve missed the whole point of the Gospel if you don’t treat them as such.

If instead you just lob your opinion out there as a grenade, with no awareness of the damage you’re doing, then you are no church expert to begin with. And why people are giving you a platform as if you are one is beyond my comprehension.

The church should not simply be an organization that provides a severance package on the way out.

It should be a family that says “we will see you at the next reunion.”

This depersonalizing of people’s stories of why they are leaving ministry jobs is disheartening. And for those of you perpetuating these kinds of conversations, I beg you to stop.

You are not being Christ in their lives in this moment.

You are instead being a Pharisee that is heaping burdens upon them.

[Side note: most of what I’ve said in this blog post could also be applied to how too many established church pastors are talking about church members who have “left.” The guilt trips laced with Biblical language. The spiritual abuse of kicking them while they’re down. I’ve seen all of it the last couple years and it’s sickening.]

And for those who are reading this who have left or are considering leaving a ministry job, here’s a prayer I offer you during such a difficult season:

Be kind to Your little children, Lord; that is what we ask of You as their Tutor, You the Father, Israel’s guide; Son, yes, but Father as well. Grant that by doing what You told us to do, we may achieve a faithful likeness to the Image and, as far as is possible for us, may find in You a good God and a lenient Judge.

May we all live in the peace that comes from You. May we journey towards Your city, sailing through the waters of sin untouched by the waves, borne tranquilly along by the Holy Spirit, Your Wisdom beyond all telling. Night and day until the last day of all, may our praises give You thanks, our thanksgiving praise You: You who alone are both Father and Son, Son and Father, the Son who is our Tutor and our Teacher, together with the Holy Spirit.

– St Clement of Alexandria, 150–215 AD

2022: The Fog

We’re in the beginning of the 4th week of 2022. And I’m still processing why it doesn’t feel like the new year even happened…

I also wonder: Does anyone else feel that way or is it only me?

I don’t have any specific answers yet as to why. But as I’ve been spending time with God about it, and He gave me this image: a foggy hiking trail thru the forest.

This “hiking trail” actually represents a path I’ve been on with Jesus for a while now. It started well before the pandemic, but I just wasn’t aware of it until the lockdown in 2020 created the space for me to acknowledge it and begin exploring it with Him.

I’ve started talking about the path I’m on as wandering with Jesus.

Not because I’m lost. I’m not.

Mostly because Jesus isn’t lost and I’m walking with him. So he knows where we are going, even if I don’t.

But also because the wandering isn’t actually new, or without meaning. It’s a part of the path He’s always been trying to lead me on, in a very intentional way. I just wasn’t aware of it, so I couldn’t talk about it.

For too long in my relationship with Jesus, I saw feelings of wandering as problems to be solved. And now I know that’s never been the case…

I’ve been aware of my wandering with Jesus for a little while now. And I know many others are “waking up” to it too. I’ve spoken with so many who feel dismissed by “church leaders” because of their wandering.

And I just want to say: I’m sorry.

I’m more interested in finding ways to wander together than to “fix” the wandering anymore. Because I know, what Jesus wants for me is the relationship(s) along the way anyways.

And 2022 just brought something new to the wandering: fog.

Before I would have seen the fog as an obstacle to be overcome.

Something Jesus had to solve. Something He had to clear so we could get to where we were going.

But now that I’ve embraced the wandering, I realize now that’s not the purpose of the fog at all. And that it’s also not Jesus’ desire.

He wants me to focus on Him. Not what He can do for me.

The fog will likely slow us down on our walk. And that’s okay. That’s probably exactly what I need right now.

So if you find yourself in a place where the only way you know how to describe it is wandering – I get it. I’ve discovered this wandering has actually always been the plan all along. It’s not a problem to be solved. It’s a path to focus me on what matters: the relationship(s).

I’m not sure what all 2022 will hold. But I do know it has started with a fog. And maybe, just maybe, it’ll help me slow down even more, so I can see even more clearly when it’s gone.

If you’re wandering with Jesus and looking for others who are too, I’m there with you. It might help not to wander alone. I’m glad I don’t feel like I am. I remember when I did.

Maybe 2022 for you will include finding others to wander with…I think it will for many people. If you want to explore what wandering with Jesus, with others could look like – reach out. There’s a number of us talking about that very thing right now.

I’m just thankful I’ve embraced this wandering with Jesus. Trying to solve it, like I used to do all those years ago, meant I missed out on so much of what He was wanting for me.

I’m looking forward to another year of wandering…but there’s some fog right now, so I’ll be taking it a little slower. Jesus has something for me in it.

When we talk about deconstructing, what are we saying…

Are you even in the “church world” in 2021 if you don’t hear the term deconstruction at least every other day?

This past year and a half has proven difficult for a variety reasons. One of the main ones is how rapidly language is coming at people. Especially complex philosophical concepts that come out of very specific worldviews.

This is only compounded by the reality that most people don’t have the time to research these things. And thus sometimes don’t fully understand things before they decide whether it’s a helpful concept to describe their life or not.

Which is one of the reasons why I’ve started this Words Matter blog series.

If you didn’t know, the term deconstruction wasn’t made up this past year – though it may feel like it was to some. And it would take far more than this one short blog for me to explain it fully.

I’ve spent much of my adult life wrestling with philosophical concepts, especially those related to communication – like how we explain the experiences of our life. And the biggest tension within these conversations is that they all (whether someone likes it or not) come from a particular worldview.

[A worldview is a way someone thinks that helps them make sense of the world and then is ultimately determinative for how they will live in the world with others.]

In the case of the term deconstruction, especially in how it’s being used in popular Christian circles today, there are multiple problems. But the biggest is that if we look at the dictionary definition of the term, then we will see that what many are calling “deconstruction” in popular Christian circles is not likely deconstruction at all.

Deconstruction can be defined as “the breaking down of an idea or concept into smaller parts to look at how it can imply things that it may not overtly state.” I did this kind of work (though not expressly called deconstruction) in my undergraduate degree. I understand the point of a process like this, how to do the process, and the importance of doing it from a healthy place and not a place of pain (or anger, or dissatisfaction, etc.).

Deconstruction as a philosophical construct and a means of analysis is one thing.

“Deconstruction” as a word Christians are using to explain a more generalized “question everything” mindset seems to be quite another thing.

Basically, whether intended or not, it has become the catch-all term for people wanting to “flip tables” or “burn everything to the ground” or whatever other colloquial phrase we want to use. I get that desire. Believe me, I do. But in my estimate it is not the intention of such an analysis, nor a healthy mindset with which to enter into such a process.

[Spoken as someone who has entered into such a process in an unhealthy way before, and it was very unhelpful and actually caused me to be unable to see the very things I needed to see for the process to be helpful.]

While some are correctly using the term, many are using it in ways that not only doesn’t fit the basic definition but more important doesn’t describe what it is they are actually experiencing (likely unintentionally).

What I’m about to say Christians know better than anyone: Sometimes what someone describes as the reality is not actually what the reality is. We as humans struggle many times to find the words to completely describe what is happening inside us or around us. We may be trying our best, and yet we can miss the full picture.

Therefore, we have to continually try to get at what people are actually experiencing. What are they trying to describe? Not just what word they are using because they’ve heard others use it to try and say “this is what I’m going thru.”

[This blog is way too short to get into this in an in-depth way, but deconstruction is also hugely impacted by someone’s worldview. If you’d like to do some more reading on stuff like this I suggest looking into books on worldviews like James Sire’s book “The Universe Next Door.”]

Which brings me to the main point of this blog: When we talk about deconstructing, what are we saying?

What is the actual experience we are attempting to explain to other people?

Are we just using a word others are using because it’s the word we’ve been told explains what is happening? Does it accurately describe what we are going through?

As a Christian, this should also include us asking 2 other specific questions as followers of Jesus:

Does God (in the Bible) provide me with language to understand what I am going through?
Are there Christians in previous generations that have gone thru this experience before and have tried to explain it?

[An observation: I find much of this is happening in “protestant” circles where people have mostly disconnected themselves from the historic Church. There are those who have gone before us who have wrestled with the things we are currently wrestling with. It’s typically helpful to have “spiritual guides” who have walked the path we are walking who can help give us language to understand it. Too often today Christians are looking to words and concepts that come from those who have not walked the path we are walking (and it typically means that language will inevitably be describing quite a different journey or will be an incomplete description of the journey). I know we love to use “new language” for things in our American culture today. But many times the “old language” is the best way of explaining what it is people are going through.]

When I talk to many Christians today who would consider themselves “deconstructing” (and I’ve found it’s actually less people than gets portrayed on social media), I find that most are experiencing what other Christians who have gone before us have described as a “dark night of the soul” (John of the Cross), or “the wall” (Hagberg & Guelich), or “the second half of life” (Richard Rohr). And there’s several other descriptions that seem to fit in various ways.

This experience that people are attempting to describe as a part of the Christian journey is not unknown to Christianity. While we may be experiencing it as a new thing, it is also not actually new at all. Which shouldn’t surprise us since the Bible teaches us that there is “nothing new under the sun.”

God is not caught off-guard by it.

We are not the first generation of Christians to experience it.

We likely only didn’t see it coming because no one informed us that it would.

And it’s not actually the process of deconstruction for most.

Since words matter greatly, because they shape the way we navigate the world around us, I am suggesting we reframe the conversation using different language. Deconstruction does not seem to fit what many people are trying to describe as their experience. There are those who are actually participating in a genuine deconstruction, but most seem to be experiencing something else and need more helpful language to describe it.

[I know, because until I explored this experience more deeply, I would have used the word deconstruction to describe what I had gone thru multiple times in my life up to this point.]

The reality is also that we ultimately need to more often use Biblical language to talk about a Biblical faith journey.

That we should look to the language that is used in the Old Testament and in the New Testament.

And that we should look to the language that is used by Jesus.

So, after much thought about my own experiences and much time spent listening to people attempting to describe similar experiences, my suggestion would be to focus on the concept of refining or purification.

Specifically a refining by fire.

Whether it’s in Job, Psalms, Proverbs, Isaiah, Zechariah, Malachi, 2 Corinthians, 1 Peter, Revelation or even in Jesus’ own teachings that direct us toward the imagery of the “refiner’s fire,” this seems to be a much more helpful imagery and concept for describing what many are describing that they are going thru in this season (and what I’ve gone thru several times in my life at this point, including a pretty serious one this past year and a half).

Why does this matter? Why would this language and imagery be more helpful?

And why do I think it’s unhelpful to use a term like deconstruction to describe what most are going thru during this season?

Because in a relationship with Jesus we have a foundation upon which everything is built. We have valuable frameworks that are built upon that foundation. And simply demolishing the entire thing (including the framework and foundation) will not actually produce the result some may think it will. It usually isn’t even what they say they want and is certainly not God’s desire based upon what we read in the Bible.

But refining fire language will help us navigate these things.

One important reason why a refining fire is more helpful language is that it places the emphasis of the process upon the fire itself (a consistent Biblical image for God) instead of on ourselves. Which is the reality of what we go thru anyways…whether we acknowledge it or not.

God is the one directing or allowing the process to happen. So we might as well just name it up front.

A refining by fire certainly does mean questioning whether things belong (are they actually framework or foundation, or are they easily burned up by fire?).

But it also means you acknowledge from the start that there is a foundation and a framework (made of stone and precious metal) that will remain when the questioning is over.

Which is why listening to Christians who have described this experience historically is also important. Because they remind us that this is an experience God actually meets us in and walks with us thru (and maybe even initiates). Even if it doesn’t seem like He’s there. And that the foundation and framework will remain (even though much of this experience may be disorienting).

It’s also helpful language because going thru a refining fire is evidence of faith.

It actually requires faith to enter the difficulty of the fire and come out the other side purified.

Philosophy and faith are not diametrically opposed. But that doesn’t mean all philosophical language is always helpful in navigating faith.

In this instance, I would say that the philosophical language of deconstruction is not helpful in describing this experience of the faith journey that many are currently going through.

So maybe we could try using the language of refining fire instead, and see what happens.

I mean, what do you have to lose? If you are someone who is already “questioning everything” (I’ve been there, so I’m not speaking negatively about doing that), then you might as well question the word you’ve been using to see if it accurately describes what you’re going through anyway…

If you’re interested in exploring this more, feel free to reach out. It’s a journey I’m on. Maybe you’re on it too. And it’s always helpful to have companions on this kind of journey.

Burn out is not failure.

The amount of comments, blogs, posts, books, videos, and opinions about burn out that have been shared this past year is overwhelming. I likely have burn out from those more than the real aspects of my life…

But nonetheless it feels necessary to address the topic as a part of this Words Matter series.

First, to talk about burn out we have to attempt to define burn out – or at least discuss what the experience is that people are trying to talk about when they use the words burn out.

In listening to how people talk about it, I would say burn out is the feeling of exhaustion experienced because of an unhealthy striving. This phenomenon seems to be what most people are referencing when they say they have burned out. It’s emotional, mental, & physical, and almost always related deeply to their spiritual lives.

[The World Health Organization defines it this way: “Burn-out is a syndrome conceptualized as resulting from chronic workplace stress that has not been successfully managed.”]

When people talk about it, they almost always do thru negative language. And it’s pretty much always discussed as a failure.

Which leads to needing to understand what people define as success and failure – whether consciously or unconsciously. Which has deep implications for their lives and how they talk about life thru those lenses.

Since burn out is mostly talked about as failure from what I’ve seen, I find myself asking the question “Why?”

Why is burn out almost exclusively talked about thru negative language as an experience of failure?

Does this have to do with a correct understanding of life or our definitions of success and failure?

Must we classify burn out in such binary terms, or is it possible to see burn out through a less binary lens?

I would suggest that it’s always pertinent to look to the Scriptures in our attempts to understand life, and describe our experiences. There are likely many places we could go to look for examples of what we might call burn out today, but I will reference one: 1 Kings 19.

[I suggest clicking on that link and reading the entire chapter before continuing.]

Here is a portion:

Elijah was afraid and ran for his life…He came to a broom bush, sat down under it and prayed that he might die. “I have had enough, Lord,” he said. “Take my life; I am no better than my ancestors.” Then he lay down under the bush and fell asleep.

All at once an angel touched him and said, “Get up and eat.”…He ate and drank and then lay down again.

The angel of the Lord came back a second time and touched him and said, “Get up and eat, for the journey is too much for you.” So he got up and ate and drank. Strengthened by that food, he traveled forty days and forty nights until he reached Horeb, the mountain of God.
1 Kings 19:3-9

If you read the whole chapter, then you also know what comes next is the famous “the Lord is in the whisper” story. It’s quite powerful. But even more so when we know the part of the story that precedes it.

Elijah had likely experienced burn out. Ready for his life to be over, he was emotionally, mentally, and physically exhausted. It took sleep and food, as well as the intervention of an angel for him to continue on.

And yet the angels response, and even God showing up in the whisper later, gives us insight into how to understand this moment in Elijah’s life. The angel is not surprised by Elijah’s limitedness, and neither is God. He is human after all. God does not seem upset, nor taken back by Elijah’s needs – emotionally, mentally, and physically. And all of that ultimately leads to a deeply formative spiritual reality for Elijah.

Without the burn out would Elijah have been able to know God in the same way?

I think it’s a valid question. And my opinion would be no.

The burn out – or the reaching of the necessary end of his limits – provided the context for Elijah to know God truly in the way He desired to be known.

Personally.

Tangibly.

Fatherly.

God provides for Elijah’s most basic needs in the moment of his greatest exhaustion: food, rest, and relationship.

Where is God in Elijah’s burn out? Right there with him.

Not waiting on the other side.

Not in the miraculous moment the burn out was preparing him for.

Not in the successful moments before the burn out.

This was not an issue of Elijah failing. This was simply an issue of Elijah being human. And God treated it as such.

Most of us today struggle to hold our experiences of life open-handedly. We rush to classify them in temporal ways. Maybe in order to make sense of them.

What if whatever version of success that leads you to strive to the point of burn out is not success at all, and thus burn out actually becomes the most successful thing you do in the process?

Because success for God is defined by closeness in your relationship with Him. And if your “goals” are getting in the way of that, He has built in an amazing thing to us as humans that help us reorient ourselves: limits.

And those limits mean you will burn out. It’s not really if you will burn out. It’s just when.

And when you do, God will not come to you like a boss to talk to you about being a failure.

He will come to you as a Father to talk to you about being His child.

And experiencing God like this is powerful. Because He has your full attention. You (and your actions) are no longer the center of your life. Your striving has stopped. And thus God can show you how much your life is actually worth, how much He cares about you, and how loved you truly are. And all of that requires a willingness to receive, which almost always only comes after we feel we have nothing else to give.

Viewing burn out as failure mostly comes from the modern business culture of our day – which views productiveness as the highest goal of life. God is concerned with your being before He is concerned with your doing. He wants you to be productive in your doing, but only insofar as you are connected to Him in your being.

Burn out is an opportunity for us to evaluate our priorities. To evaluate our definitions of success and failure. To learn to live within our limits. And to learn to give ourselves grace when we reach them.

We’re only human after all…

May we recover healthier language and more complete understandings of what it is God is at work doing in our lives.

May we reframe how we talk about burn out and our own experiences of being human.

It’s these kinds of experiences that become crucial places God can most clearly teach you about who He really is and who you really are.

You are not what you do.

And burn out is not failure.

Words matter.

In just my relatively short time serving God’s people, I’ve grown weary of some of the language and categories that often times get used merely out of habit (or it’s just the inherited way people have always talked about things). Many times it is because of the burden that this language can produce, as opposed to what Jesus intends with an easy yoke or teaching (Matthew 11).

In my own life, I’ve spent countless hours learning to use correct language in order to help others do the same.

Because words matter.

You see, my undergraduate degree is in the study of communication, or rhetoric. And one major thing I learned, and now have seen time and time again, is how much we are shaped by the language and categories we use to describe our experiences. The way we talk necessarily “boxes us in.” Sometimes in good ways, sometimes bad. How you talk about things becomes how you think about them and experience them. And it becomes problematic when it then “boxes” God in – in ways that aren’t actually possible and yet happens because of how we talk.

In recent generations, many in the American Church have normalized modern “business language” and “leadership principles” as their baseline for discussing the organization of the church. This has also led many to use this same sort of language in order to understand their relationship with God as well. Overall, I must say, my assessment is it has de-personalized God – which is terrifying honestly.

Most times the language and categories being used are incomplete and unhelpful. They are modern attempts to describe things that have already been described in Scripture in ways that are far more complete and helpful.

Sometimes when I attempt to critique the use of modern language and suggest better ways to talk about things, I’m met by people who feel like I’m “nitpicking.” But since taking thoughts captive (2 Corinthians 10) is what we are encouraged to do, it is an important work to look at how we think and talk about our relationship with God (or the church).

And so that leads to the need to discuss an important question: Why does it matter?

Words matter (especially when talking about our relationship with God and the church) because they shape not only our own outlook on faith, but also how we directly relate to God and to others!

When someone tries to explain their own experience of God to another person, it is always an interesting process for them to try and translate that experience in a way the other person will understand. So then, translating those experiences across groups of people, cultures, generations, etc. gets even more interesting. And since words are powerful enough to shape people’s understanding of a relationship with God – it means we must take the words we use seriously.

James talks about this very thing in his letter in the Scriptures actually (though you may have never applied it this way):

“When we put bits into the mouths of horses to make them obey us, we can turn the whole animal. Or take ships as an example. Although they are so large and are driven by strong winds, they are steered by a very small rudder wherever the pilot wants to go. Likewise, the tongue is a small part of the body, but it makes great boasts. Consider what a great forest is set on fire by a small spark.”
James 3:3-5

Our words are very powerful. And so how we talk about God must be done carefully, and with great reflection. Even more so if you are someone others listen to! Because how you talk about faith will influence how others talk about it. Which also means we must be willing to try our best to give complete pictures of a relationship with God right out of the gate. And we also must be willing to evaluate how well we actually did – and correct that language if necessary.

I never fault people for attempting to use language they see as culturally relevant in order to explain faith, the church, etc. I’m constantly doing the same thing.

But what I do fault us for is when we perpetuate the use of language without looking at whether it has been helpful or not.

Much of the modern business language being used in church settings has bugged me for a long time. But over the last several years I’ve become more outspoken about it because of how much I’ve seen it hurt my own relationship with God, others’ relationships with God, and overall the expressions of God’s people – or the church.

Thus, this blog series will address specific language that I have found particularly troublesome and problematic. Phrases, metaphors, and categories that have been mostly harmful and not helpful in attempting to give people the words they need to navigate faith, their relationship with God, and the church.

Whether it’s categories like burn out or deconstruction, or language like “leaving the ministry” or “excellence culture,” I will look to the experience someone is attempting to describe and compare it with how the Scriptures (and at times mothers and fathers of the faith who have gone before us) have described it. And hopefully you will find that I am trying to offer a way of thinking about this relationship with God we are all navigating using the language God uses in the Bible to describe such things.

Words matter.

Mine included.

So with a great deal of humility, here we go…