Jared C. Wilson's Blog, page 10

The True(st) Man

Therefore the wicked will not stand in the judgment,

nor sinners in the congregation of the righteous;

for the LORD knows the way of the righteous,

but the way of the wicked will perish.

— Psalm 1:5-6

You and I are starving for the glory of God. Underneath all the desires, all the longings, all the cravings, and all the yearnings, this is our fundamental and essential need—an experience of the magnitude and the character of the God of the Universe.

Psalm 1:5-6 speaks to this need as the spiritual diagnosis of all that plagues us. All of our not fitting in, all of our anxiety, all of our brokenness rests on top of the primary problem of our not being able “to stand.” God is holy, and we are not. Thus everything wrong flows from this essential wrongness. Because if standing in the judgment (v.5) means, in part, not walking in the counsel of the wicked or standing in the way of sinners or sitting in the seat of scoffers,” as the psalmist says back in verse 1, I’m in deep trouble. And I assume you are too.

The situation could not be more bleak. The echo of the law of righteousness reverberates so loudly and powerfully in these two verses, that not a single one of us can help from being blown over by its force. The law is the great equalizer. It puts every one of us on the same level, and it levels every one of us.

What are we to do?

Interestingly enough, the emphasis of the entirety of Psalm 1, actually, is not much on things to do. Oh yes, there are certainly things to do. The law is good at telling us good things to do, things that accord with “the way of the righteous.” And yet, we notice that the tone of Psalm 1 isn’t primarily about things to do but rather experiencing things that are done. More specifically, things that are done for us.

Here is the staggering and perplexing beauty of the gospel. The solution to our inscrutable problem of our doing wrong things is not fundamentally our doing right things but having the right things done on our behalf. This is why, for instance, the psalm reads so much in the passive voice.

Apart from the sovereign intervention of the Lord, we would be utterly and hopelessly lost. But by his grace, we “are planted,” as the psalmist says in verse 1.

And this is why I love Psalm 1:6: “For the LORD knows the way of the righteous.” It speaks not immediately to a right religion but to a right relationship. To know of God is vitally important, and to know about God is crucial to righteous living, but to be known by God trumps it all. There is nothing more precious than to be known by God, to be reconciled to him by the atoning work of his Son Jesus Christ, who by his blood has made us sons and daughters along with him.

The tone of Psalm 1 is not on things to do but on things that are. Because of this, we are left to conclude that the person Psalm 1 is describing has not necessarily achieved the blessings of verse 1 by doing and not doing all that’s discussed, but that the person is doing and not doing all that’s discussed because of the blessing of verse 1.

In other words, we don’t do stuff to get this blessing. We get this blessing, and then we do stuff. The tree imagery in verse 3 certainly speaks to this point. Having been planted by streams of water, the tree almost cannot help flourishing in leaves and fruit.

We do receive blessings from our faith and works, but faith and works is received from an original blessing. The man who does not walk in the way of sin understands he is blessed.

Psalm 1 describes the kind of man who seems, by most indications, perfect. Meditates on the law day and night? Do you do that? Well, maybe it just means “throughout the day and night,” at regular intervals. Do you do that? I don’t. It would seem in fact that Psalm 1 is describing perfect personhood, establishing a description of the soul submitted to heaven, the aspiration and ambition of all the psalms that come after it. Psalm 1 is the gory cross-section of a quote-unquote “true person.” And since we who are sinners saved by grace know that we are in the flesh fundamentally disordered persons, we can see that Psalm 1 is actually a better description of the one true man, the second Adam without sin, Jesus Christ.

Jesus is the man who walks not in the counsel of the wicked but in perfect submission to the Father. Jesus is the man who does not stand in the way of sinners, but is the friend of sinners, becoming the way himself that they find salvation. Jesus is the man who does not sit in the seat of scoffers, but in the seat of mercy. Jesus is the man whose delight is in the law of the LORD, and he always lives to intercede for his siblings. Jesus is the man who on the law meditates day and night, for he does not sleep nor slumber and his holiness is everlasting.

Jesus is like a tree—the tree of life planted by streams of water, living water that, whoever drinks of it will never be thirsty again, water that yields its fruit in its season, the fruit of the Spirit, against which there is no law, and its leaf does not wither, but is instead the true vine, in whom we abide as branches.

In all that he does, Jesus prospers. He never fails. The wicked are not so, of course, but are like chaff that the wind drives away. But he commands the wind. He is the rock, the firm foundation, the cornerstone, the withstander and the driver of every storm. The wicked will not stand in the judgment, nor sinners in the congregation of the righteous, but he will be the judge himself, and despite standing in the judgment of the cross, he will be not ashamed to call redeemed sinners his brothers.

The Lord knows the way of the righteous, because he is the way of the righteous.

New Season of Ministry Coaching Begins Next Month

I just wrapped up my first experience with ministry coaching (via Tailored Coach), and had a great time with some great guys. I enjoyed it so much, I decided to go another round. So, beginning next month (August), I will be offering another 6 months of ministry coaching via Tailored Coach. The format will be cohort based (limit 13 people) and will involve a combination of monthly group conference teaching/Q&A’s and one-on-one coaching. All the details are here, including cost.

Here’s what we’ll cover:

1. Why Gospel-Centrality? This session will lay the biblical foundation for orienting ministry around the finished work of Christ.

2. The Gospel-Centered Pastor. Pastors fundamentally lead from who they think they are. This session will deal with identity and empowerment.

3. Preaching. An overview of approaches to the Bible and preaching pro-tips on making the main thing the main thing.

4. Shepherding. Peter tells pastors to “shepherd the flock of God that is among you.” This session will cover what that looks like from the gospel-centered paradigm and offers some “best practices” for scheduling, administrating, visiting, and sabbathing.

5. Discipling. How do you help people constantly look to Jesus? If the call of the church is to make disciples, what should pastors be doing week to week to facilitate fulfilling this mandate?

6. Gospel-Centered Troubleshooting. This session will deal with applying our union with Christ to ministerial and relational issues that can cause frustration and discouragement – problem people, gossip, the slow pace of change, difficult contexts, family dynamics, etc..

I’m especially interested in helping guys in their first decade of ministry, particularly with issues of finding identity in Christ and how to pastor from that, as well as relational dynamics in ministry and leadership. Space of course is limited, so if you or someone you know is interested, apply soon!

Mister Rogers’s Deathbed Confession

I went with my family earlier this week to see the new Fred Rogers documentary, Won’t You Be My Neighbor? Overall it was an excellent film, and we enjoyed it very much. As I said in my night-of tweet thread, you and I could quibble with portions of it—the filmmaker seems intent on highlighting Rogers’s treatment of a gay cast member as indicative of his inclusive outlook, which is actually not evident from any of Rogers’s public statements and not at all clear even from the anecdotes included—but a few directorial concerns aside, it was a moving tribute with many touching interviews with family, friends, and Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood cast and crew.

This will not be one of those “the gospel according to [insert film here]” posts, but I do think one particular portion of the documentary lends itself to (what ought to be) a deep question at the heart of every person. The filmmakers seem largely disinterested in Rogers’s theology, such as it was, although of course they couldn’t avoid the subject entirely. Rogers was an ordained Presbyterian (PCUSA) minister, and it should be clear to those who can make the connection with a Christian worldview that he was intent on treating every person he met as an image-bearer of God. As far as I can recall, the name Jesus is not mentioned at all in the film, which is interesting (and telling), except in one humorous moment where one of Rogers’s sons talks about what it was like having “Mr. Rogers” as a dad—”He was a like a second Christ to us.”

Of course, we don’t need a second Christ. The first is Christ enough. But we shouldn’t read too much into this statement. What mom or dad wouldn’t want their adult kids to be able to say in some form after we’re gone that being parented by us was like encountering Jesus?

But what really impressed me was the one clear reference in the film to the implications of Christian morality. It comes in the second half of the movie when Rogers’s widow Joanne recounts a question he asked her when he was near death. He said:

“Am I a sheep?”

What an amazing question.

The filmmakers bungle the answer, which was to be expected. They depict Joanne explaining the context of the question, the separating of the sheep and the goats at the end of days.

When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit on his glorious throne. Before him will be gathered all the nations, and he will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. And he will place the sheep on his right, but the goats on the left. (Matt. 25:31-33)

From what is included in the movie, we have basically an affirmation of what most people who believe in an afterlife believe about who goes where—good people go to heaven, bad people do not. Joanne then recalls that she said to her dying husband, “If anyone is a sheep, you are.”

I don’t want to assume too much about her apparent response to the question. It’s quite possible she said more, and the filmmakers cut it out. As I said, they don’t seem inordinately interested in theology, and this moment appears briefly if only to prop up the idea of Mister Rogers as a “good man,” one of the best men in fact. But I couldn’t stop thinking about this question and its implications for Fred Rogers, and for you and me.

“If anyone is a sheep, you are.” Whatever you think of Fred Rogers, he was undoubtedly a kind, generous, patient, caring man. He is almost universally affirmed as one of the nicest men ever in public life, nice even to the point of being hated by many as being too nice. He had given his life to making children feel cared for, valued, and encouraged. And he did the same for many adults as well. His wife and kids confirm that the man we saw on the screen was the man they had at home, that it wasn’t an act. He really was a kind and gracious person. But facing the end, knowing he was about to give an account to his Judge, he was still uncertain enough of his goodness to wonder: Was I good enough?

I think this is because Rogers knows what Jesus says in a parallel passage to the sheep and the goats, found earlier in Matthew’s Gospel:

Not everyone who says to me, “Lord, Lord,” will enter the kingdom of heaven, but the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven. On that day many will say to me, “Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and cast out demons in your name, and do many mighty works in your name?” And then will I declare to them, “I never knew you; depart from me, you workers of lawlessness.” (Matt. 7:21-23)

There will be many, I figure Rogers reckoned, who claim their goodness before Christ that find themselves rejected.

So Mister Rogers’s deathbed question was really a deathbed confession. He was confessing that, facing the weight of eternity and the undeniable prospect of his justification before God, he wasn’t sure that his lifetime of “sheepishness” was merit enough. Because of course it’s not.

And if anyone ever asks you, “Am I a sheep?”—or you ever wonder about yourselves, as I hope you would—the correct answer is no,t “Of course—you’re a good person. Hardly anybody’s better than you. If anyone’s a sheep, you are.” The correct answer is, “You’ve done a lot of good things, but none of them will earn you the credit with God. Nobody is good enough to enter his glory. Nobody, that is, but Jesus himself. And regardless of your morality and in spite of your immorality, you know you are a sheep if you listen to the voice of Jesus and put your faith in him alone. Then his goodness becomes yours. It’s the only way in.”

Your goodness isn’t good enough. But Christ’s is.

For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus, whom God put forward as a propitiation by his blood, to be received by faith. This was to show God’s righteousness, because in his divine forbearance he had passed over former sins. It was to show his righteousness at the present time, so that he might be just and the justifier of the one who has faith in Jesus. (Rom. 3:23-26)

Preach Like Keith Green Sang

I know I’m dating myself here, but I just don’t think the church has produced a musician in the last 30 years equally passionate as talented as the late Keith Green. He’s probably not my favorite Christian artist, but he was certainly the most influential on me, particularly over my teenage years—despite the fact that I was just 6 years old when he died in 1982—and he casts a long shadow over the Christian music industry Green both used and also disdained.

There really hasn’t been another artist like him. Rich Mullins comes close in terms of influence and uniqueness. But there were a few things about Green that make him a singular figure. And I think preachers of the gospel can learn a few things from him. Here are just three:

1. Earnestness

Green really believed what he was singing! He wasn’t performing—at least, not in the sense we’ve come to think of performing. He didn’t see his music as a way to make a living. Indeed, he is famous for having basically begun the “pay what you can afford” approach to Christian business, even refusing to charge for much of his early records and cassettes. But beyond that, what you get in Green’s music—from the praise chorus “Oh Lord, You’re Beautiful” to the prophetic rebuke of “Asleep in the Light”—is a man fully consumed by his subject(s) and honestly moved by the implications of Jesus Christ’s Lordship for the world and the church. He sang without pretense, without preening, without posturing. Imagine if we took to our pulpits with the same earnestness? What if Sunday wasn’t just going through the motions? What would our sermons sound like if we really believed what we were preaching?

2. Un-self-consciousness

Green was an outsized personality—and, according to some accounts, somewhat hard to take by many of his contemporaries, who found him prickly or in some cases too rigid—was perhaps the least likely of CCM’s stars, if only because he didn’t really care about his “image.” This included his looks, of course, but had more to do with his devotion to straight-forward, no-frills, literalistic “Jesus music.” The man was completely unembarrassed by Christ and the gospel. Many of his songs can sound pretty “cheesy” by today’s standards, lyrically speaking anyway, but Green didn’t seem to think at all about how to obscure the point, use metaphors when literalism worked just fine, or appeal to listeners who liked their Jesus music less Bible-y. Once you dug in a bit deeper than his music, you can see that Green’s theology could use a fair bit of work, but I think we could use a lot more pastors who preach Christianity like Green sang it—men un-embarrassed by the Bible, unashamed of an explicit gospel, and un-self-conscious about how all of this might play to the flesh.

3. Passion

Green was a force of nature. His singing, his piano playing, his little homilies between (and in the middle of) songs—he did it all 100 percent. He was driven by the force of belief, by the conviction that what he was doing could literally make the difference between someone’s going to heaven or hell, between the church’s being found faithful or unfaithful before a holy God, between Christ being glorified or the world. “He left it all out on the field,” so to speak. He wasn’t wishy-washy or chit-chatty. He sang like eternity hung in the balance. Compared to the Contempo Casuals style of evangelicalism so popular today, Keith Green is the second coming of John the Baptist. His earnestness was refreshing. But many earnest men can be boring. Green’s earnestness came with passion. Lord, give us more preachers like that, preachers who from their guts just want us to behold the beauty of Jesus like that vision is all that matters.

Where I’ll Be, Summer 2018

Every now and then, for those who are interested, I share selections from my upcoming speaking dates. If you’re in any of these areas and able to attend, would be great to meet you.

Tomorrow I’ll be heading down undah for the second time this year. I’ll be speaking at the Oxygen Conference in Sydney, which is June 25-28. Other speakers include Jen Wilkin, Bob Kauflin, Nancy Guthrie, Mike Raiter, and Sam Chan.

July 8, 2018 – The Brook Church in Tomball, TX. A homecoming of sorts for me, as I served on staff as student minister at The Brook over twenty years ago and was licensed for ministry by them. Really looking forward to sharing God’s word with them next month.

July 9-13, 2018 – OneCamp 360 in Palacios, TX. This will be my third consecutive year preaching this student camp, and I’ve really enjoyed developing relationships with the pastors and student leaders who put this thing on and bring their students every year for intensive Bible teaching and gospel-centered preaching. The theme this year is Sola Fide.

July 15, 2018 – Houston Northwest Church in Houston, TX. Another homecoming for me, as my family were members at HNW for several years after we moved to Houston when I was a kid. My friend Steve Bezner is the lead pastor and my brother is pastor for discipleship.

August 10-11, 2018 – The Normal Pastor Conference in Kansas City, MO. Hosted at Liberty Baptist Church, this is the conference’s 2nd year (last year was in Orlando) and will feature John Onwuchekwa, Won Kwak, D.A. Horton, and Nathan Rose. You’re registered, right?

View complete listing of speaking engagements here. And if you’re interested in having me speak or preach at your church or event, inquiries may be sent via this page.

That Little Red Hen Was a Pharisee

Can I tell you that I hate the folktale of “The Little Red Hen”? I remember it from my childhood, and I remember coming across it in little storybooks when my kids were little, and I always skipped it. I just don’t like it. I know the morals it hopes to teach are good ones (against laziness, for work and for cooperation), but the climactic delivery actually teaches a very unChristlike selfishness. It’s sort of a “one bad turn deserves another”-type thing. Here’s the story to remind you:

One day as the Little Red Hen was scratching in a field, she found a grain of wheat.

“This wheat should be planted,” she said. “Who will plant this grain of wheat?”

“Not I,” said the Duck.

“Not I,” said the Cat.

“Not I,” said the Dog.

“Then I will,” said the Little Red Hen. And she did.

Soon the wheat grew to be tall and yellow.

“The wheat is ripe,” said the Little Red Hen. “Who will cut the wheat?”

“Not I,” said the Duck.

“Not I,” said the Cat.

“Not I,” said the Dog.

“Then I will,” said the Little Red Hen. And she did.

When the wheat was cut, the Little Red Hen said, “Who will thresh the wheat?”

“Not I,” said the Duck.

“Not I,” said the Cat.

“Not I,” said the Dog.

“Then I will,” said the Little Red Hen. And she did.

When the wheat was threshed, the Little Red Hen said, “Who will take this wheat to the mill?”

“Not I,” said the Duck.

“Not I,” said the Cat.

“Not I,” said the Dog.

“Then I will,” said the Little Red Hen. And she did.

She took the wheat to the mill and had it ground into flour. Then she said, “Who will make this flour into bread?”

“Not I,” said the Duck.

“Not I,” said the Cat.

“Not I,” said the Dog.

“Then I will,” said the Little Red Hen. And she did.

She made and baked the bread. Then she said, “Who will eat this bread?”

“Oh! I will,” said the Duck.

“And I will,” said the Cat.

“And I will,” said the Dog.

“No, No!” said the Little Red Hen. “I will do that.” And she did.

What a graceless twit that hen is. I would like to rewrite the story so it ends like this:

She made and baked the bread. Then she said, “Who will eat this bread?”

“Oh! I will,” said the Duck.

“And I will,” said the Cat.

“And I will,” said the Dog.

“Come on in!” said the Little Red Hen. “We can eat it together.” And they did.

Of course that doesn’t work if you’re wanting to teach children if they don’t work and don’t help, they shouldn’t expect to enjoy the fruits of someone else’s labor. But it does work if you want to teach children that the world is full of people who don’t deserve their charity or help but that we should give it to them gladly anyway.

One point Christian married couples must continually re-learn is the difference between doing good for their spouse in order to get something in return and doing good for their spouse simply because it’s the right thing to do—because it glorifies God. I think lots of the stuff out there on his-and-her needs, love languages, and so on can be helpful, but too often it somehow sets us up to be yinning and yanging each other. I do this and you do that, and then we will bring balance to the force. I wonder where sin and grace come into play.

We don’t know these things intuitively. This is not the impulse of the flesh. The truth is that only Jesus can fill the reservoir of needs inside of us. The language of love we all (sometimes unknowingly) have is redemption, and only Jesus can speak it perfectly. As long as we are looking to anyone else to respond correctly to our good works, thereby energizing us for or enabling us to continue doing good works, the thing won’t work. For followers of Jesus, the ideal for service is giving without anticipating receipt. Of anything. I don’t know that it’s even possible for us to give without thinking of receiving, but I do know we should believe that such thoughts are anti-grace.

Grace leaves results up to God. Grace leaves “what people deserve” up to God. Grace leaves the thanks and the reciprocity for your good works up to God.

Because grace is the virtue that, when embodied in us, best enacts the Great Commandment—it is about God and others and only last, if at all, about us.

When was the last time you were scandalized by grace? When was the last time you pondered how personally discombobulating and religiously revolutionary the gospel is? Grace covers us screw-ups and the things we screw up. It is not blind to our laziness, of course, but it might as well be. It welcomes us to the table even though we’ve done nothing to earn a right there. In our sin we say “Not I” to God’s requirements every day, but in our clingy, needy way, we say “I will!” to his offers. It is grace that reserves a place for us at his table and says, “Come on in! We can eat together.”

Who’re You Gonna Sin With?

The late pioneer of Christian rock Larry Norman once sang, “Everybody has to choose whether they will win or lose, follow God or sing the blues, and who they’re gonna sin with.” I’ve always thought that was pretty clever. Because when you get right down to it, we are all making that choice.

Sometimes you hear people say they don’t go to church because it’s full of hypocrites. This is definitely true. But it’s not like the outside world is some kind of hypocrisy-free zone. Maybe you do see the same kinds of sins among Christians as you do among non-Christians, and this is a painful reality that the New Testament is neither ignorant of nor ambivalent about. And yet, one thing the church has going for it is that (most of) the people who align themselves with it acknowledge they are sinners!

This is what I take Larry Norman to mean—not that we ought to choose some people to willingly engage in sin with, but that we’re all sinners, and we’re going to fail and engage in relational messiness, so why not align with other people who realize that and are seeking help from Jesus? If I have no choice but to pick a culture to “sin with,” I’m going to pick the one that is warring against that sin, holding me accountable for that sin—perhaps even disciplining me for it—and constantly pointing me to the Jesus who forgives my sin, taking it to the cross in order to kill it.

We all have to choose who we’re going to sin with. Why not choose the church?

If we could understand just what is taking place spiritually in and through the messy fellowship of repenting sinners seeking help from God through Christ, we wouldn’t be so reluctant to immerse ourselves in its relationships. What prevents us from doing so, no matter our stated reasons, is the spirit of Babel.

Do you remember the story of the Tower of Babel? The people of earth sought to build a high tower, all the way to heaven (Genesis 11:1-9). They are blatant about their reasons for doing so: to “make a name for ourselves” (11:4). They are also concerned about dispersion, so in a way, they are trying to experience community. But it is not the kind of community God had mandated for them. This attempt at community is built on self-interest and human glory. If you know the story, you know what happens next.

So the LORD dispersed them from there over the face of all the earth, and they left off building the city. Therefore its name was called Babel, because there the LORD confused the language of all the earth. (11:8-9)

This is not the entrance of sin into the world; that happened at the fall of mankind when Adam disobeyed. But this ancient disaster is another great explanation for why our attempts at relationships and fellowship are so fraught with difficulty. We are, in effect, speaking different languages. I am trying to do relationships in a way that satisfies me; you are trying to do relationships in a way that satisfies you. We’re not on the same page, and we both think we’re going to lose if the other doesn’t get on ours.

This relational chaos becomes part of the communal DNA throughout the history that ensues. God’s people never can quite get it together. They turn on each other, and they become way too comfortable with the idolatry of the surrounding nations. But when we fast forward to the earthly ministry of Jesus and its after-effects, we see something astounding. What God had torn apart, he was beginning to put together.

Before Jesus’s death and resurrection, he tells his followers that he’s going to “go away” so that he can send the Helper to them. And after he ascends to heaven, he makes good on his promise. The Holy Spirit officially descends upon the earth, and he does so in dramatic fashion.

When the day of Pentecost arrived, they were all together in one place. And suddenly there came from heaven a sound like a mighty rushing wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. And divided tongues as of fire appeared to them and rested[ on each one of them. And they were all filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues as the Spirit gave them utterance.

Now there were dwelling in Jerusalem Jews, devout men from every nation under heaven. And at this sound the multitude came together, and they were bewildered, because each one was hearing them speak in his own language. And they were amazed and astonished, saying, “Are not all these who are speaking Galileans? And how is it that we hear, each of us in his own native language? Parthians and Medes and Elamites and residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya belonging to Cyrene, and visitors from Rome, both Jews and proselytes, Cretans and Arabians—we hear them telling in our own tongues the mighty works of God.” And all were amazed and perplexed, saying to one another, “What does this mean?” (Acts 2:1-12)

It means that the Spirit is knitting back together by grace what had become unraveled by sin. Pentecost is the un-babeling of Babel.

Through the Spirit’s unifying work sinners can finally get on the same page, because the Spirit is helping us to deny ourselves, take up our cross, and follow Jesus. And when we all have our sights set on Jesus, we stop thinking about our own glory and begin basking in his.

And this new community re-knit together by the Spirit’s power is a new humanity, a new civilization within the world, a new culture running counter to the competing cultures of the world. And while this new community is made up of the same kinds of sinners you find in other places, it is nevertheless the only community that is going to prevail against the gates of hell (Matt. 16:18).

When you choose to sin with the world, you go the way the world is going. But when you choose to join the sinner-saints in the body of Christ, the same people you sin with are the people you’ll reign with.

If we’re going to spend eternity with these people, we should probably start figuring out how to live with them now. This is the whole point of human relationships, really—to glorify God by living graciously with others as Christ has lived graciously with us. When you think about it that way, taking the risk of engaging relationships in the church is no risk at all.

Excerpted from my book Supernatural Power for Everyday People: Experiencing God’s Extraordinary Spirit in Your Ordinary Life

Register Today for The Normal Pastor, Aug. 10-11 in Kansas City

Ever feel like the average pastors’ conference wasn’t quite for you? Wish the average pastors’ conference spoke to the pastors who were a little more . . . well, average? Last year we introduced The Normal Pastor Conference in Orlando for any church leader who may feel a little discouraged in ministry, maybe a little outside the scope of the common church growth wisdom or a little left out when it comes to the ever-changing trends in church resources. This year we’re hosting it in Kansas City, Missouri!

This isn’t about big churches or small churches or big platforms or small platforms. Whatever your ministry context or scale, The Normal Pastor is for any minister who is a little more convinced each day that he needs a lot more gospel and a lot less of himself. If you long less for building a ministry empire and more for leaving a legacy of simple faithfulness to the local church, we think that’s normal. And this conference is for you.

Join me, John Onwuchekwa, D. A. Horton, Won Kwak, and Nathan Rose in KCMO on August 10-11. All conference details, including cost, schedule, and speaker info can be found here. Space is very limited, so register today!

8 Contrasting Signs of an Insecure Leader

Insecurity doesn’t always manifest itself in the same way. For many people, it looks like anxiety, nervousness, or timidity. But did you know that arrogance, domineering, and short-temperedness are also signs of insecurity? (Both timidity and domination have at their roots a concern about control.)

It is worth exploring, then, how closely related opposite character traits or behavioral characteristics may actually be. The following list of leadership characteristics contains four sets of two contrasting signs, all of which—counterintuitive though it may seem—reveal insecurity.

How do you know when a leader in your church, office, or organization is showing deeper insecurity?

1. An insecure leader may stay competitive about other churches or organizations,

or

2. An insecure leader may be jealous/fearful of other churches or organizations.

Some leaders try to stay in competition with those who ought to be seen as partners or complements to Christ’s mission in their communities. They are always pointing out the flaws of other churches, the defificiencies of their leaders, touting their own successes against the others’ failures as a sign of how “we’re doing it right.”

Other leaders see their own setbacks and disappointments in contrast to the successes of other churches and develop an inferiority complex that only feeds their jealousy or fear of other churches “horning in” on their territory or “sucking up” all their resources or stealing their people.

The problem with both of these approaches to other churches—both showboating pride and envious disgruntlement—is that both other churches and their leaders as competition, as rivals for market share, rather than as partners in kingdom mission. A leader secure in the gospel understands that no kingdom is bigger than Christ’s, and that a win for any church is a win for Jesus and thus a win for all.

3. An insecure leader belittles other leaders in their own organization,

or

4. An insecure leader is paranoid about other leaders in their own organization.

I attended a church once that went through a different youth pastor every year, a different young adult pastor about as often, and a string of ever-rotating teaching pastors. I later discovered it was because the lead pastor was so insecure, as soon as he began to sense that some other leader or other ministry was growing in popularity, he saw them as a threat to himself and the weekend service and got rid of them. This power move is very much a mark of real insecurity.

And we see this insecurity in the two contrasting dysfunctions of leaders worried about the influence or development of other leaders around them. Whenever one is constantly insulting, poking, or even sarcastically digging at another leader, it is likely a sign of insecurity. The other leader may even be an organizational inferior, but if the primary leader is uncomfortable by their influence and perceives it as a cost to his own, you may find him finding ways to take the subordinate “down a few notches.”

But the same is true not just of the power move of belittling but the passive move of paranoia. Secure leaders don’t worry about the influence achieved or the accolades earned by other leaders, whether peers or employees. They know a win for a leader is a win for the team. They don’t see the gifts, successes, or recognition of other leaders as a threat, because they have the confidence of Christ’s gospel.

5. An insecure leader micro-manages his team,

or

6. An insecure leader is passive with his team.

Both overbearing micro-management and hands-off passivity, while behavioral opposites, are signs of insecure leadership. How?

Micro-management is how a leader shows he doesn’t trust his team to operate in their own gifts and aptitudes—and, interestingly enough, it also shows how a leader doesn’t his trust his own decisions in enlisting and organizing a team competent enough to carry out the tasks before them. If you don’t trust your team to perform well, it’s because ultimately you doubt your own ability to choose the right people.

I remember a few times hearing some complaints from parents about youth leaders. The complaints had nothing to do with bad teaching or immoral behavior or even immaturity. The complaints were solely about logistical decisions and the like.

As a parent of youth, I am sympathetic to the desire that our students receive top-quality ministry in the church. As a pastor, however, I am sympathetic to the reality that ministers are often subject to an inordinate amount of advice and acrimony, the majority of which should never be voiced. So I refused to take these complaints to the youth leader. It was not my job to micro-manage him. I didn’t want to put anyone in any position of responsibility without authority over their responsibilities. I wanted to trust them, but also my (and the church’s) original affirmation of them as a leader. Do we trust them? That was the bottom line. I wanted to trust them until they gave me a good reason not to. Just as I want the same for me.

On the other hand, if I never counseled the leaders under me, never coached them, directed them, gave them insight, let my influence roll downhill, and so on, I am doing them an equally awful disservice. Leaders who are passive around their teams are ineffective and, by definition, failures as leaders, because the essence of leadership is influence. A passive leader is in a sense a contradiction in terms, or they are at least a leader who is a leader in name only. Leaders hide behind their titles, operating as figureheads, when they fail to engage those around them, to ask for feedback and input, to initiate collaboration, or to share both the burdens and privileges of their position. This is a sure sign of insecurity because it means the leader doesn’t trust other leaders to help and because the leader fears giving up a sense of control or recognition.

7. An insecure leader is self-reverential,

or

8. An insecure leader is self-pitying.

This is perhaps the starkest contrast. Some leaders like themselves way too much, enjoy their own notoriety too much, like to see themselves in the spotlight too much, and practically think of themselves in the third person. Other leaders are always putting themselves down, hobbling their own influence with over-sharing transparency, undercutting their own self-respect with pathological self-deprecation, or simply the leadership equivalent of Debbie Downer.

Both extremes are signs of insecurity, because the self-reverential leader craves the spotlight as a panacea to his own fear of insignificance and the self-pitying leader is being defensive to self-protect against his own fear of insignificance. Oddly enough, both behavioral extremes are extremely self-centered. We’ve probably all encountered the sad-sack character in small groups or Sunday school classes who seems to suck up all the emotional and relational energy of the entire group every week with their problems or fears. This is as much a prideful self-centering as the arrogant jerk who’s always jockeying for attention. And it is just as much a show of insecurity.

So what’s the antidote? How do we normalize our leadership away from extremes? Supernaturally, it begins with a re-centering of our identity around Christ. Only the security we find in his gospel—where sinners are justified freely forever, united to Christ to be seated with him in the heavenly places in every moment, and empowered by the Holy Spirit to obey God and bear godly fruit—can help us battle the insecurities of the flesh, whether they manifest themselves in aggression or passivity, arrogance or false humility.

The cure for insecure leadership is the leadership of Jesus.

A Normal Week in the Life of a Pastor

Even though I have been out of the pastorate now three years, I’m still asked quite frequently what a pastor’s normal work week should look like. The answer is always, “It depends.” It depends on one’s missional context, the size of one’s church and support team, whether you’re a solo pastor or part of a team, and so on. But since the curiosity about my own weekly schedule at my last pastorate has not seemed to wane, I thought I might share it here for anybody interested.

Keep in mind a few things: First, my context was unique. This was a small church in a small town in a rural area (Vermont). I was not only the only staff pastor (we had a team of lay elders also), I was the only staff person period. So not only was I not able to delegate many pastoral tasks to folks, I wasn’t able to delegate many administrative-type tasks either. I answered the church phone and returned most church emails, made my own copies, and so on. All that said, here’s what my typical work week looked like . . .

MONDAY

This was my longest day of the week. I’d usually get into the office about 7:30 a.m. after dropping the girls off for school, something I’ve enjoyed doing all their childhood. This day was largely reserved for housekeeping-type stuff and administrative details. I’d catch up on emails, return phone calls, and look over the week’s schedule and do planning, meeting invites, and any kind of assorted paperwork.

In our context, there were also a few pop-in visitors on this day, largely as a result, if I had to guess, of Sunday’s energy. Sometimes questions would arise, concerns would be shared, or somebody just wanted to stop in and say thanks for the message or mention how it helped them or somebody they loved.

I would also on Monday print out my preaching text for the next Sunday, and while I wouldn’t begin the sermon prep process in earnest quite yet, I’d keep the sheet on my desk to have the passage under my nose all the time and be chewing on it, contemplating it, often scribbling notes or thoughts or questions on the page over the next two days.

I also always had a meeting on Monday evening. This is largely why it was my longest day. I’d typically go home for lunch, and when I returned to the office, I’d then stay through the afternoon until meeting times, which typically began about 6:30 p.m. and sometimes lasted till 10 p.m. to 11 p.m. First and third Mondays I led a men’s discipleship group at the church. Second Mondays were deacon’s meeting. Last Monday was elders’ meeting. On the rare month of five Mondays, I’d get the four Monday evening off.

TUESDAY

This was my heaviest meeting day. I did most of my home, hospital, and nursing home visits this day, and also tried to schedule any counseling-type meetings for this day, as well. I’d usually begin the day with coffee with the previous pastor of my church and his wife. (After his retirement, they remained in the town and church, and I was glad to “re-install” him as a lay elder a few years into my tenure.) Then most of my relational heavy lifting for the week would commence this day.

WEDNESDAY

This was reserved regularly for writing and research. I would get out of the office and go to a coffee shop the next town over and spend the day there. The bulk of my sermon prep was done on this day, and I really tried to at least have an outline for the message by the end of the day. If I had any blogging or any other writing projects I typically used Wednesdays to work on those, as well.

THURSDAY

Thursday was largely for catch-up and loose ends, but it was also reserved for “fun” meeting day. I would spend many Thursdays meeting with folks simply for encouragement, having lunch with an elder or maybe a young man I was discipling, or somebody in the community or a leader from another church. Sometimes I’d visit church folks at their job site (most of my men did not work office jobs but lots of outdoorsy-type stuff) or accompany them on errands. And if my sermon outline hadn’t been finished at the end of the day Wednesday, I would put the finishing touches on it by the end of the day today.

FRIDAY

During the school year, this was a day off reserved just for my wife. We’d usually get out of the house and explore the area, going on hikes or sometimes just hanging out at coffee shops in cool little Vermont villages, having lunch, seeing sights (Becky is a photographer), doing some shopping, and just relaxing together.

SATURDAY

This day off was reserved for my family.

SUNDAY

Not my longest day, but the most taxing, as most pastors will agree. My Sundays usually began with waking around 4 a.m., pulling out my sermon outline, and spending two to three hours manuscripting. I know that process isn’t for everyone, and I’d certainly never recommend it as a formula, but it worked well for me. I usually didn’t even look at my outline Fridays and Saturdays. Sunday morning I could look at the outline with fresh eyes, and I’d treat the manuscript process as if I was preaching it for the first time, asking myself, How would I say it if I could say it exactly as I wanted? And then I’d take that manuscript into the pulpit with me. Sunday school was at 9 a.m., and if I wasn’t teaching a class, I’d usually have a counseling appointment scheduled for that hour. Service was at 10 a.m. officially, 10:15 unofficially.