David Williams's Blog, page 34

Things Come to an End

We are increasingly close to this all being over.

It's a little hard to imagine that coming to pass.  After most of year struggling to adapt, adapt, and adapt again to this pandemic, the idea that we might finally have entered an endgame seems almost unimaginable.  

A vaccine, now tested and approved for distribution.  Production is amping up, and distribution to front line medical workers and the most vulnerable among us now appears to be starting within the month.  This is all really good news.

But we're not there yet.  It is hard, after all of the sacrifice and adapting of the last year, to look at a finish line that is four to six months away.  We're tired and ready to be done, impatient for that day when we can walk into a crowded theater and just watch a dang movie already.  We're ready for the kids to go off to school again.  We're ready to go and sit with folks we know again, and seeing that end goal so tangibly near at hand can feel too much.

It's not, any more than Advent is too much.  As children, we remember that wait as the Season progressed, as we somehow managed to hold on to our sanity as the season stretched on.  Days just trudged on by, slow as sludge, as Christmas morning dangled like Tantalus sugarplums, seemingly forever out of reach.  We gritted our teeth, and endured, and the day arrived on its own time and in its own way.

For we Jesus folk, the wait for that day when Christ's kingdom is fulfilled can seem equally far away.  We yearn for that day of rejoicing and peace, when the lion and lamb lie down together.  We've obviously been waiting for a while now, while the lion and the lamb get into an angry pointless rantfest in the comments section.  Still, we trust in that promise, and from that trust comes a deep reservoir of the Spirit's patience.

Christmas morning will come.  And this pandemic will end.  The day will come when we leave the house, realize we've forgotten our mask, and then realize that we have forgotten that we no longer need it.

What a lovely, lovely day that will be.

An Open Letter to the Galactic Federation on behalf of Sci Fi Writers

To whom it may concern:

As a homo sapiens sapiens, and inhabitant of the planet Earth (Sol 3/ Terra), let me be the first to thank the representatives of the Galactic Federation for your choice to hold off making formal contact with my species.  We were all delighted but not surprised to discover that you've been in regular contact with us.  While there's the possibility that the Israeli scientist who announced your existence to the world this week is simply insane, I'm choosing to take him at his word.  

There are some folks who question your choice not to simply make your presence known, but I am not one of them.  Although we human beings would like to believe that we're ready to take our place among the other sentient species in the Laniakea Supercluster, we're obviously not there yet.  As a species, we're truculent, delusional, and prone to making impossibly stupid choices, as our decisionmaking around both the climate crisis and the recent global pandemic has made clear.  Not to mention the choices a significant minority in my nation make around leadership, which...um...well.  I can, again, understand your desire not to engage with such an immature and erratic race of beings.

At some point, though, you'll change your mind.  The time will come to make contact.  While I'm as eager as many of my fellow humans to see that happen, I'd like to humbly make a request on behalf of my profession.

I am what is known as a "writer."  I mostly write something we humans call "science fiction," which involves creating fictional narratives about our possible futures.  They're not true, not technically, but they're amusing.  They're something else, too, something deeper.  Those stories shape how we humans understand things.  They teach through narrative.  They lead us to more openness, and more willingness to constructively encounter both difference and new realities.  The best fantasy and science fiction...Welles and Bradbury, Leguin and Butler, Atwood and Jemisin...is part of how humankind is preparing itself to welcome you.

All around the planet, we sci fi writers are working on stories that will make humankind far better partners in your efforts.

Like, we've finalized manuscripts.  Some of us have found good agents, after years of trying.  We've edited, and re-edited, and are really maybe actually finally going to get published.  I mean, we can taste it.  We've worked hard, I mean, seriously hard.  It's been rough, and ego crushing, but that's just what we writers have to live through.  It's part of the work of preparing our species for your arrival.  

Which is why y'all waiting just a little bit longer would be seriously appreciated.  I mean, what's the rush?  If you folks from the Galactic Federation decided to contact us right now, who's going to read my surely-soon-to-find-a-publisher manuscript?  Who's going to want to read about robot uprisings or imaginary aliens when freaking shiploads of actual aliens have arrived?  Who's going to read any of our lovingly crafted sci fi at all?

It's not just we writers, either. What's going to happen to the sci fi publishers and agents and editors whose livelihoods depend on folks reading these amazing stories of the future, if suddenly reality is far more interesting?  What's going to happen to all the filmmakers?  I mean, honestly.  Here we storytellers are, and we've been carrying water for y'all for the last hundred and fifty years, and this is how you repay us?  

C'mon.  Be fair. Cut us a break.

So...can you put off making contact for another decade or so?  Twenty thirty five seems like a nice time to show up.  And I'm sure, after all of the manuscripts we're currently working on have been published to great critical and popular acclaim, human beings will be more ready than ever to become constructive members of the federation.

So.  Just a little longer.  2035.  We'll be ready. Please?  

On behalf of all science fiction writers, I am,

Sincerely yours,

David

The Fool's New Clothes

He's clothed!

Such clothes!

You shout and cry

As wind's cold chills your

Unclothed thigh

For as you roar

And boast 

And sing

You are as naked

As your king.

When Alternate Realities Collide

I am an expert when it comes to alternate realities.  Well, sort of.  To clarify:  With two published books on the subject, I am arguably one of the world's top ten experts on the intersection between Christian theology and the multiverse.

Arguably.  But I'm going with it.

It is and will continue to be my assumption that God's creation is more than our spacetime.  Instead, I view God's creative work as an infinite panoply of all potential reality, in which everything that can possibly exist does exist.  It's very much a minority position, and the sort of thing that would have meant all sorts of serious unpleasantness for me if I'd lived in an era where heresy wasn't the norm.  Yay separation of church and state!

That perspective has been strangely tested of late, as America is increasingly rent apart by competing narratives about what is real and what is good.  There are two diametrically opposed visions of reality at play, each of which stands in radical opposition to the other.

On the one hand, there is the narrative of a President who is a charismatic, straight-talking, no-nonsense businessman.  He tells it like it is, seeks to restore a nation to true faith and its rightful greatness, and "has a heart" for the common man.  He stands against a corrupt, sinister, and decadent cabal of secretive elites, who are doing everything they can to strip him of his rightful leadership.

On the other hand, there is the narrative of a President who is a charismatic huckster and charlatan.  He lies as easily as he breathes, and has dog whistled, worm-tongued, or bought his way into the confidence of millions.  Seeking attention, power and his own enrichment, he is now attempting to overthrow the results of an election, while those who are not bamboozled resist his despotic designs.

Both of these narratives cannot describe a single person, or a single reality.   They can be independently true, in separate universes.  If a theistic multiverse is your cosmology, as it is mine, they do.  In the infinite glory of God's manifold providence, a being named "Donald J. Trump" is both of those things.  Many other things too, like an animated meat toaster and a seven winged seraph, but let's stick with those two realities for now.  They are both "real," in that they may well exist in their respective corners of the multiverse.

But those realities cannot coexist in one time and space as descriptors of a particular entity.  Truth and reality are complicated, sure, and we human beings are none of us perfect.  But there is a difference between personal complexity and antithesis, between accurate description and fundamental error.  

If I step outside and say "It is raining right now," I am making a specific statement about reality.  It is either true or it is not.

Now, one might try to obfuscate or qualify that statement.  "Well, what if it's drizzling?"  "What do you mean by 'right now'" "Does a sun shower count?"  "Did you know that the Xuatatla people have forty seven words for rain?"  But then you are being willfully stupid, the sort of stupid that comes when we use reason to overthrow common sense.

Either there is a massive conspiracy to commit fraud, or a pathological narcissist and those in his thrall are lying.  It is either part of our reality or not.  There is no Hegelian synthesis between the two.  And unlike statements about higher order realities like Love, Purpose, and God, a statement about material reality is provable.  There must be evidence that affirms or denies the truth we claim.

Were I to contact you via email and let you know that I currently have 125,327 Bitcoin in my accidentally frozen Coinbase account, and ask to use that as collateral for a personal loan from you, you'd need some evidence of that assertion.  If I couldn't give you that affirmation, you could still take me at my word.  But that'd be foolish.

The assertions of election fraud are precisely the same thing.  There is no evidence to verify them. They simply did not happen.  They are not part of our reality.  Nor are the assertions that the vaccine is a tool of a demonic elite cabal.  Nor are any of the fevered fabulisms of QAnon.  None of these things are real.  Not one has a place in our corner of creation.  They have no foundation at all.

When we make statements about our reality that have no basis in that reality, then we are mistaken, delusional, or lying.  Mistakes?  We all make them.  They can be corrected.  It's part of growing and learning.

Delusions and lies are more dangerous than mistakes, because they are fiercely resilient.  They do not yield to correction.  Nor do they yield to evidence, because they never relied on evidence in the first place. They represent the semiotic incursion into our reality of something fundamentally alien to it, as if another realm of being was trying to press into our own to define it.

For the soul in thrall of a delusion, their delusion must be defended at all costs.  There is no evidence because that evidence IS BEING HIDDEN.  IT GOES DEEPER THAN WE EVER THOUGHT!  

Or, if you know you're lying, this is where one lie leads to another deeper lie, which will lead to another and another.  

That's what has made the "reality" pitched out by conspiracy theorists, radical ideologues, and propagandists so damaging to the arc of our history.  Those false narratives, those "alternative facts?"  They make a truth claim that isn't simply unfalsifiable, but is actually the antithesis of the sliver of creation that we inhabit.  It does not belong here.

There's an archaic word, one used by more primal peoples.  It describes what happens when something alien to our reality tries to take control of it...and of us.  It's a word that's a bit awkward on the tongues of the overeducated, and has what could at best be considered a checkered history.

That word is "demonic."

Never Preaching about Politics

Let it be clear: I never preach politics. Ever. Nor will I ever allow myself to endorse a political candidate or party from the pulpit.

I preach only from the witness of bible and from stories of history, which inoculate our souls against the demons that afflict humankind. Just as there are dark yearnings at play in our own souls, so too are there Powers that tear at the souls of cultures and nations. A pastor who ignores those things is doing a disservice to their community.
So in the past several years I have preached on many things. Challenging our sinful love of violence, I've used sermon illustrations from the civil war in Spain. I described the rise of Europe's most successful fascist experiment looked like under Franco, who co-opted Christians into his bloody rise. As a warning against charismatic charlatans, I've sounded scripture off of the story of Jim Jones and the People's Temple, and what it looks like when people fall under the thrall of a demonic narcissist.
I've preached and taught from the Proverbs, which teach the difference between biblical wisdom and foolishness. The wise are measured, moderate, circumspect, and humble. They speak carefully. They understand the impact of their words. They do not stir passions. They are constant, diligent, and thrifty. They seek peace. They are faithful to their commitments and their mates. Fools are none of those things. They shoot off their mouths, fail to restrain their anger, and always blame everyone but themselves. They are flighty, shortsighted, and wanton. They foment discord. They base their choices on the lies they tell themselves, and not the truths of God's Word and the reality of God's creation.
A couple of Sundays ago, I preached against the deadly sin of pride, using as my illustration the tale of William Henry Harrison, 9th President of the United States, who passed away in office because he was too stubborn to wear a jacket in the rain. Or so the legend goes...the truth, as always, is a little more complicated.
On another recent Sunday, I preached about what we owe the emperor and what we owe God, referencing recent studies on the human tendency towards authoritarianism, and how...even though Jesus shows us what servant leadership looks like...there's still a part of many of us that yearns for a despot.
I have done all of those things. I will continue to do so. All are utterly biblical, and speak to the Principalities that seek to drive grace from our culture. Is that politics? No. Partisan politics has no place in the pulpit.
But a faith that does not speak to our life together and to our identity as a people is meaningless.

Why I voted FOR Biden.

I recognize that this election season is all about opposing your opponent.  It's about coalescing around hatred for ones enemy, about tapping into that group energy that comes from having a person you can focus your anger on.

It's classical Alinskian politics, after all.  Nothing motivates human beings more than having a villain to fight, a face to put on your hate, a heel to boo and hiss and attack.  And Lord have mercy, do we have that energy going on right now.

But though I feel that spirit out there mightily, and it rises up on the wings of my anger about clear threats to the integrity of the republic, I also don't really trust that energy.  It's evil, after all.  And my Teacher doesn't fight evil with evil, no matter what Palpatine might be hissing at me on Twitter.

I take a deep breath, center away from that form of power, and try to think positively.  Where is the good in my choosing?  How does seeking the good...not just my own, but of the republic I love...drive how I will act as a citizen?  I have already voted, going early because, well...it seems necessary this year.

So let me say this:  I voted for Joe Biden because he's a decent person who will be a decent, competent president.  When I voted, I did not do so grudgingly, or with reservations.  I am not simply voting *against* someone.  I want Joe Biden to be president.  Frankly, I wanted him to run in 2016, and was disappointed when he made the choice to step aside.  My decision to cast my vote for Biden is affirmative, not a "best of two bad choices" or a poke in the eye to those who see the world so very differently than I.  There are reasons for this.  Let me lay 'em out for ya.

1) Biden is a moderate.  I am also a moderate.  Well, moderate in some things.  I am moderate in my moderation.  But generally, I don't believe in abrupt change, or in moving suddenly unless there's a truck coming at you.  Evolution is life's path through the order of creation, and it is also the best way to accomplish necessary adaptation.  Abrupt changes to living systems are likely to fail.  Moderates consider the possible good on either side of a contentious issue, and find the path that makes the most sense given the reality we inhabit.  Not the pipe dream of a perfect future, or the lie of a perfect past, but the reality of where we are, who we are right now, and how we might take that step to become better.

I see that logic in most of what Biden does.  Take, for instance, Biden's  stance on busing, for which he was attacked during the primary season.  Busing was, quite frankly, a shortsighted solution to a real problem.  Decoupling students and parents from local schools is an ideologues idea of an answer to systemic failures in our school systems.  I would vote against any candidate who proposed it, because there's value in community, and in not having to drive halfway across the damn county to bring my kid something they forgot, or to pick 'em up when the nurse calls.  It's not racist to oppose it, because race isn't the only thing at play when it comes to busing. 

Moderates think about such things, and I am voting for Biden because he is a moderate.

2) Biden knows how to work with others.  Again, this is because Biden isn't a radical or an egotist.  He doesn't see politics as a zero sum game, but understands that you're better off at least trying to connect with those who aren't your base.  He's representative of a better time in American politics, when folks were willing to reach across party lines to get things done.  A better time, frankly, than the one we inhabit.  He's got a track record of this, a lifetime of evidence that he is willing to find common ground and treat those who disagree with him honorably.  

He is a liberal, in the classical sense of the term.  Liberality is the enemy of radicalism, and has always been.  It is neither leftist nor right-wing.  In the Soviet Union, it was the liberals who were harassed and imprisoned.  In Nazi Germany, liberality was equally attacked.  Why? Because liberals are a threat to every form of authoritarianism.  They insist on listening to and considering the potential merits of other positions.  Liberality also assumes that the person you are talking to is not a caricature, but an actual human being.  Kindness, grace, mercy, and understanding are liberal virtues.  Biden is a liberal in the most traditional sense of the word.

In part, that comes from his persona.  Let's talk about that. 

3) Biden is a centering presence.  Tone matters in leadership, as it does in all relationships.  Try saying something to your wife in a gentle tone.  Now say it in a snarky, bullying tone.  Which one is more likely to have you sleeping on the sofa?

Biden listens.  He is genuinely the kind of person who cares.  It's why he's been around as long as he has, because it's not just a facade or a schtick.  It's his identity.

If you want to unify a nation, there are different approaches to doing that.  The best approach is to appeal to the center, to reach out to the best shared spirit of a people.  That calls a nation together.  It unites from common purpose, and from a position of shared hope and determination.  It is the path of nations that are growing and moving forward.

You can also use darker energies to force unity.  Fear and hatred are excellent tools for pulling a people...or a subset of people...towards a given end.  They can be powerful.  These work well when coupled with brute force.  If a people aren't united by common purpose, you can motivate a subset of them with fear of an enemy, then use the coercive power of a police state to subdue and subjugate the rest of them.

A leader must express that, particularly if they want to lead more than a subset of partisans.  If you want a nation to cohere, and if you dislike divisiveness, you need to choose leaders who refuse to use the energy of division and disruption.  Seek the measured, the thoughtful, and the leader who will acknowledge and respect a worthy perspective, even if it is offered by a political adversary.

That said, there's always the concern that a moderate leader won't be able to push back when pressed, that they'll not have the necessary spine to resist when the integrity of the nation is attacked or pressed by a hostile aggressor.

After the first debate, we know what he looks like responding to blind aggression now, so, yeah.  That one's fine.

4) Biden is old. 

He is not young. For many folks, this is spun as a negative.  Joe Biden is 77.  He isn't hip and edgy and now.  Farthest thing from it.  But with age can come wisdom.  A lifetime of experience is not irrelevant, nor is it irrelevant that he understands the ebb and flow of political fads.  I don't buy into the idea that age is only a negative.  Jesus Mary and Joseph, it's not like we're living in the world of Logan's Run.  Well, not quite yet, anyway. 

I value the vision and depth of those who have lived more years than I, seen more things than I, and know more than I.  I understand things in middle age that I did not in my youth.  Every year, my well of experience deepens. 

There are two concerns, of course.    First, that age can come with significant diminishment of cognitive function.  Which is why I've made a point of listening to Biden speak off the cuff, and listening to him answering questions.  Not for just a soundbite, but for a whole hour of speaking, unfiltered by any spin.  He's not the best at it, not as good as Obama or even as Reagan.  But neither is he incompetent.  

Second, that age can calcify a person's perspective, and make them less likely to respond effectively to a new and unanticipated challenge.  Old dogs often go back to the same bag of tricks, over and over and over again.  It's a human tendency, and one I feel in myself as I get more curmudgeonly with age.  To counterbalance this, you need liberality, a willingness to see the good in the new, and one other thing.  You also have to have people who you respect to teach you things you don't already know.  Which gets me to the next point.

5) Biden is more than Biden.  

He isn't perfect, and he doesn't pretend to be.  But Biden is the sort of leader who knows to listen to wise counsel.  He does not assume he knows everything, or that his opinions are the only ones that matter.  A Biden presidency would engage the minds of other human beings, tapping into deeper expertise and acknowledging that one single person cannot know all things.

If your understanding of leadership is that good leaders are strong and in complete control of everything, that might not work for you.  Some folks assume that a leader who doesn't just give orders and demand loyalty is somehow "inauthentic."  As a pastor who cares for my community and from my doctoral work in leadership dynamics, I know that churches...and by extension, any human group...that are run by one person with ultimate power?  They fail. 

The strong church...or organization, or nation...is the one where the gifts and wisdom of the whole group are utilized.  Expertise is not smothered by ideology or ego.  The power of the team, and the strengths we all bring?  They all need to be brought forward.  In a time when we are tested by a hornet's nest of crises, we need that kind of leadership.

6) Biden personally manifests the Christian virtues. 

This isn't going to work for everyone, as not everyone is Christian.  But I am.  The teachings of Jesus define my path, and while I'm the farthest thing from perfect, I measure my success as a soul by how I do what Jesus asks me to do.  What that looks like as we live day to day is defined well by the classical Christian virtues.  There are many different ways to present that set of morals, but one of the clearest is found in ancient Christian teachings about vice, sin, and the virtues that counterbalance them.

The Seven Deadly sins, we know.  Lust. Gluttony. Greed. Sloth. Wrath. Envy. Pride.  Give power to a person ruled by those sins, and they will cause harm.  Against them...not in parallel but on their own terms... we find arrayed the angels of the Seven Virtues.  Chastity.  Temperance. Charity. Diligence. Patience. Kindness. Humility.  Give authority to a soul that has tapped into the power of these graces, and they will be a blessing.

Let's break those virtues down.  Chastity means containing carnal desire through fidelity in relationships.    Temperance expresses itself through moderation of impulses, by refusing to allow the momentary impulse to drive your choosing.   Charity means benevolence, a willingness to sacrifice self for the greater good, and a turning away from the hunger to maximize personal benefit at the expense of other.  Diligence means putting in the hard work necessary to do a thing.  Good things take time, dedication, and focus.  Patience means playing the long game, ignoring the provocation of the moment and keeping your heart turned towards your purpose always.  Kindness requires a concern for others and their wellbeing, and for that concern to govern your behavior towards all.  Kindness rejoices in and magnifies the successes of others.  Humility creates in us a willingness to learn, an openness to be changed when we are wrong, and a servants heart.

I see all of these spirits working in Joe Biden, and not just now, but over the many years we've been able to watch him in public service.  Is he perfect?  No.  None of us are.  But you can tell from his life where his priorities lie, and how his deeply held lifelong faith forms and shapes who he is.  You shall know them by their fruits, as my Teacher said.

7)  Joe Biden Loves to Drive.  

This isn't going to work for everyone, because not everyone loves cars the way that I have since I was a little boy.  But Joe Biden's a car guy.  I love cars.  Sweet baby Jesus, do I love cars.  Biden still owns the same Corvette he bought back when he was a young man, and clearly takes pleasure in it.  The thing he hated most about being VP was not being able to get out and drive.  He likes the feel of a fast car, the elemental pleasure of being behind the wheel.  

As it so happens, the first truly fast car I ever drove was my uncle's '65 Stingray.  Fuel injected 327, sky blue, gorgeous.  Dang, was that fun.

This is, I'll admit, a silly thing, but I know that were I to ever meet Biden, I'd have trouble ending the conversation.  Because God help me, I can blabber on about cars all day long.  Just ask my congregants.  So while I feel some lament about depriving Joe of that for the next four years, well...I can appreciate him.

Transfer of Power

The reason I sigh

Heartbeats arise

Throat like a vise

Is not the fly

Or the blood in his eye

But that being wise

To softly spoken unctuous

Lies

I'm watching my America reprise

The tale

Of how

A democracy

dies

Jesus Experts

There are many rules in this internet era.  Don't read the comments.  Don't ever search for anything without Safesearch on.  Do not click on a link in an email that claims to be from your credit card company.

To those, as we all know, is added this: do not ever use the internet to diagnose yourself.  Oh, it can be great for troubleshooting an issue around the house, or for figuring out how to fix something.  But when it comes to your own body, nevereverever go online to figure out what that ache, twinge, or throb might be.

Because even if the information is there, if you're not an expert, you can go way off the reservation.  You don't know how to interpret what you're seeing, don't know how to bring in other relevant information, and don't know how to assess the likelihood of a particular outcome.  Whenever I've attempted to diagnose myself, I have a nearly 100% track record of being wrong.

I mean, yes, we all do want to be good at everything, but we aren't.  There are certain things other human beings know that we do not.  I may regularly garden, for example, but a master gardener I am not.  I am constantly learning from and being informed by folks who know seed and soil better than I.  I can do the most basic motorcycle maintenance, but when things get more technical I know...from experience...that I'm better off trusting the heavily tatted mechanics who are less likely to render my bike unrideable.  I can do some basic home rewiring, but when things get complicated, I'd rather call an electrician than burn my house down.

Similarly, I'm more likely to trust a doctor who's been to medical school, or a nurse who's gotten similar training.  They know what they're looking at, in ways that I really don't. I've learned to give my trust only to folks who genuinely have a clue.  

Is this true for our journey with Jesus?  Are there folks who are experts, in ways that we are not?  That's a little tougher to say, because the metric is a little different.  How do you know when someone's take on the faith is Spirit-filled, and when it's just them lining their pockets, padding their egos, or serving the purposes of power?

I look to the saints, honestly.  Meaning, not necessarily the saints of the ancient faith, although they're worth knowing.  I look to the saints around us, the folks who show the fruits of a deeply authentic walk with Jesus.  They're the ones showing grace, offering up forbearance, giving comfort.  They show hospitality to the stranger, and serve those in need.

They don't tend to be the loudest or most aggressive folks.  They don't seem to need you to agree with them, or pressure you to parrot everything they say.  They make no claim to perfection.  They aren't trying to sell you something.  They just do the Jesus thing, day after day.  

You might have to slow down a bit, and listen for them.  

It's worth doing, as we seek to build up our souls.

Telling it Like it Is

It wasn't the conversation I particularly wanted to be having, but I knew it was coming.

Just the year before, my little congregation...generous to a fault...had given me a modest bump in salary, along with agreeing to pick up the hefty costs of health insurance for my family.  My concern, expressed to leadership at the time, was that this would not be sustainable.  Unlike most small congregations, we have no debt and have slowly amassed an emergency reserve fund over the last nine years.  But even with that, I could see the writing on the wall.

We're a little church in a time when little churches are struggling to maintain the old model of congregational life, and as several long standing church families moved away or prepared to move for retirement, there was only a marginal possibility we'd make up the difference in giving.  Much as I love the small church, folks just don't come through the doors like they used to, and gentle-hearted, unassuming, and intimate servant communities aren't where the cultural energy lies of late.

So last year, I had to be sure we all were clear: the church was going to be facing a financial crisis.  We were burning through reserves, and unless something radical was done, we'd find ourselves with our backs against the wall within a year.  It wasn't what anyone wanted to hear, and it wasn't what I wanted to tell folks, but it was the truth.  Leadership had those hard conversations.  We made sure we told the rest of the church, because hiding or ignoring problems only makes them worse.

We'd have to make some major cuts, and those cuts would have to involve my salary.  Again, this was just the reality.  In small churches like ours with total budgets that barely reach six figures, pastoral salaries are the farthest thing from Osteen levels, but they're still the largest chunk of expenditure.

The financial bleeding stopped.  We stabilized, and made the difficult but necessary adjustments.  Which meant, as it so happened, that when the pandemic hit, we still had emergency reserves to carry us through this new time of crisis.

If you're in a position of leadership, you have to be honest with your community.  This isn't the easy thing.  It's hard, particularly if you don't like conflict.  And Lord knows, I'm as conflict averse as anyone.  But I've had to learn to overcome that, because leveling with folks is absolutely essential for the survival of a community.  If there's a crisis, there is always the temptation to sweep it under the rug, or to minimize it, or to come up with rosy fantasy scenarios that keep folks from getting all upset.  "Oh, it'll be fine."  "It's not a big deal."  "I'm sure God will send us a miracle!"

There is also the temptation to cast blame, to find someone else who's fault it is.  Anything to avoid having to say the hard thing, and to make the hard choice, and to take the harder path.  Those things set heavy on the ego.  We'd rather dwell in the reality in which nothing is demanded of us, and where everything always goes our way, where we are bright and shiny and always, always right.

Telling people what they want to hear is the realm of the pitchman and the promoter, not the leader.  To lead wisely and well, you need to tell it like it is, to be a straight shooter, to speak even those truths that don't benefit you personally.  You have to trust your people and your community.

Leaders who can't present their people with the truth, who choose the comfortable fantasy over speaking the hard challenge?  They have no business leading.  They are why churches...and nations...fail.

Wasps

In the room of my childhood

A dream of wasps growing

Thick as my thumb

Tight wet in their cells

Fat and glistening

Pressing outwards

Row upon row

Tens and hundreds

More upon more

To burst and rise and take angry wing