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Ever make excuses for those who misbehave?

I do – all too often.

It’s not something I readily do with strangers.  If someone cuts me off in traffic, I’m liable to hurl some anger in the driver’s direction.  There’s no excuse for being uncivil – and downright dangerous – in my driving world.

But if someone I know and care about wrongs me, I tend to search for ways to excuse their behavior.

“I’ve called her twice, but she hasn’t called me back.  She must be busy.”

“He promised to be here by 4 but hasn’t arrived yet.  It’s probably due to traffic.”

“He borrowed my tools and said he’d get them back to me by now.  He’s probably forgotten.”

Sometimes making excuses for others might be termed sensitivity.  We put ourselves in someone’s place and imagine how life might be if we were them.  We certainly understand what it’s like to be so busy that we fail to return calls or return items that people have loaned us.

But sometimes, we make excuses for people when we shouldn’t … because we’re unwilling to utter one simple phrase:

“What they did or said to me was wrong.”

And we might add, “And there’s no excuse for their behavior.”

When I was 16, my first job was working at a butcher shop.  I came in for a couple hours every day and boned meat, cutting myself repeatedly with sharp knives.

I was supposed to arrive at work by 4:00 pm sharp, but sometimes I arrived a minute or two late.  When I tried to explain why I wasn’t there on time, my boss would say, “I don’t want excuses.  I want reasons.”

I had plenty of excuses … but few good reasons why I was late.

We all have plenty of excuses for our own misbehavior, don’t we?

“I’m grouchy today because I stayed up late last night.”

“I didn’t go to the bank because there’s too much going on in my head right now.”

“I swore at her because she made me mad.”

“I haven’t accomplished anything this week because I can’t get motivated.”

Comedian Steve Martin used to say there were two words that would get you out of any predicament:

“I forgot.”

When you’re 16, there might be excuses for using excuses, but when you’re 31 or 47 or 58, it rings hollow.

We have to learn to say:

“You’re right.  I told you I’d pick up the clothes at the cleaners and I didn’t.  I’ll go do that right now.”

“I messed up and shouldn’t have said what I said.  Will you forgive me?”

“Please accept my apologies for ignoring you yesterday.  It was wrong of me to do that.”

“I feel like offering you an excuse right now, but the truth is that I blew it.  Let me make it up to you.”

Whenever we mess up, the healthy way to handle things is to admit it in an appropriate fashion … without taking too much responsibility (“It’s all MY fault!”) or denying any responsibility (“He did it.  It’s all HIS fault!”)

And hopefully, when we sincerely apologize for our mistakes, those we have hurt will grant us forgiveness.

And we need to use the same principle when others make mistakes … because making excuses for the behavior of others is not the way of Jesus.

In Luke 17:3, Jesus said, “If your brother sins, rebuke him, and if he repents, forgive him.”

But most of us read the verse like this: “If your brother sins, excuse him.”

Why?  Because we’d rather make an excuse for someone’s behavior than rebuke or confront them.

We explain away what they did so that we don’t have to do or say something uncomfortable that might risk the relationship.

Our culture has mastered this art of excusing people:

“He acts like that because he’s the middle child.”  (That might explain a few things, but every misbehavior?)

“She throws things because she was raised by her aunt.”  (Does that mean she’s going to throw things for the rest of her life?)

“He yells at people because he can’t help himself.”  (He can’t help anybody if he keeps yelling like that.)

“She overspends to compensate for her sad life.”  (But plenty of sad people don’t overspend.)

In fact, every biblical command (love your neighbor as yourself … do not judge … pray without ceasing … do not repay anyone evil for evil) implies that the hearer has both the ability and the responsiblity to carry out the command.

Would God ask us to do what we can’t do?

Every person comes to a point in their life when they’re either going to remain a child or grow toward adulthood.

They key is to take responsibility whenever you mess up … and to hold others accountable whenever they mess up.

Christians need to master the art of the apology (“I was wrong – will you forgive me?”) as well as the art of holding others accountable (“I love you, but you crossed a line when you said that”).

And when people admit they’ve done wrong, it’s not our job to excuse them, but to forgive them.

Let me share a relational secret with you.  When someone you care about misbehaves … or hurts you with a comment … or does something you believe is wrong … address it right then and there.

Don’t wait three months, work up your courage, and then address it.  Deal with it in the moment … or try and let it go.

In Matthew 16, when Peter tried to warn Jesus not to go to the cross, Jesus didn’t wait a year and then say to Peter, “You know, Peter, you really hurt me with that remark about the cross.”  Instead, Jesus dealt with it immediately.

Jesus did this consistently throughout His ministry.

Think about it: if we addressed people’s misbehavior immediately, would we proceed to excuse it later on?

What are your thoughts about this topic?

My pastor was under attack.

He couldn’t sleep.  He couldn’t study.  His personality turned inward.

He was a wreck.

Why?

Years ago, in my third church staff position, a small group of vocal members began to criticize the church’s pastor … who was also my supervisor.

Their main claim?  That he didn’t preach often enough, an indication that he was lazy.

35 years ago, many Protestant churches had:

*Sunday School

*Sunday morning worship

*Sunday evening service (with youth group meetings before or after)

*Wednesday night prayer meeting

That’s a lot of teaching time to fill!

My pastor’s main gift was shepherding – not teaching – so he utilized a team of teachers on Sunday nights and Wednesday nights.  I was happy with the arrangement because I enjoyed hearing others speak … and because I got to speak once a month as well.

I can’t recall what set off the grumbling, but many of us started feeling heightened anxiety around the church campus.  One night, someone caught me in the parking lot and told me that 10% of the church was going to leave if the pastor didn’t start preaching on Sunday nights.

Now what would you do with that information?

Some Christians would keep it to themselves.

Some would tell family and friends from the church.

Some would throw in their lot with the 10%.

Honestly, I wasn’t sure what to do.

I had a friend in the church – a man who went on to become an evangelist – and he and I discussed the situation.  We decided to visit the most influential man in the church … a layman known for his teaching, integrity, and straight talk.

My friend and I sat in his living room and said something like this, “There are people in this church who are attacking the pastor.  They are threatening to leave if he doesn’t start preaching on Sunday nights.  The pastor is devastated by this news and seems paralyzed to do anything about the situation.  What can we do to help him?”

Looking back, I don’t know whether or not this man was supportive of the pastor, but we had to take the risk.

He told us, “Gentlemen, when Paul talked about troublemakers in the church, he named names.  Who are these people?”

Wait a minute.  If we mention the names, isn’t that gossip?  Aren’t we tattling?  Couldn’t we get in trouble if we said too much about what was happening?

And some of those people were our friends.  How could we single out friends like that?

But this man was right.  Paul did name names – along with John, the apostle of love:

Some have rejected these and so have shipwrecked their faith.  Among them are Hymenaeus and Alexander, whom I have handed over to Satan to be taught not to blaspheme.  1 Timothy 1:19-20

Their teaching will spread like gangrene.  Among them are Hymenaeus and Philetus, who have wandered away from the truth.  They say that the resurrection has already taken place, and they destroy the faith of some.  2 Timothy 2:17-18

Alexander the metalworker did me a great deal of harm.  The Lord will repay him for what he has done.  You too should be on your guard against him, because he strongly opposed our message.  2 Timothy 4:14-15

I wrote to the church, but Diotrephes, who loves to be first, will have nothing to do with us.  So if I come, I will call attention to what he is doing, gossiping maliciously about us.  Not satisfied with that, he refuses to welcome the brothers.  He also stops those who want to do so and puts them out of the church.  3 John 9-10

With biblical precedent upholding us, my friend and I divulged the names of the troublemakers we knew about – especially the ringleaders.

I learned an important lesson that day.  Sometimes church powerbrokers are successful in making threats and demands because nobody has the courage to identify them by name.

Think about this:

Last night, my wife and I watched a recently-produced film on Solomon’s life.  The film opens with King David near death – but he hadn’t yet chosen his successor.

So one of David’s sons engaged in a pre-emptive attempt to be anointed as king –  in league with David’s top general.

Their names?  Adonijah and Joab.

Not “one of David’s sons” – but Adonijah.

Not “a high-ranking military officer” – but Joab.

They were both executed for committing treason against David’s choice for king … Solomon.

One of Jesus’ 12 disciples betrayed him.

His name?  Judas from Kerioth.

Not just “one of the Twelve” – but Judas.

Before anyone could finger him, Judas took his own life.

Paul wrote in Romans 16:17:

I urge you, brothers, to watch out for those who cause divisions and put obstacles in your way that are contrary to the teaching you have learned.  Keep away from them.

If you’re in a church, and you hear that someone is plotting against your pastor … do something about it.

Warn the pastor.  If you sense the board is supportive, talk to the board member you know and trust best.

Believe me, the pastor and/or board may have no idea of any division inside the ranks.  Your information may give them time to head off an attack before it ever takes place … or give them a key piece of information they lacked.

If you know that an individual or a group is planning on “going after” your pastor, speak to someone in authority – even if the plotters are your friends.

Because if you don’t, your church will eventually experience months of tension, division, and ugliness.  Friends will separate, donations will plunge, and people will leave.

If you know something, tell somebody!

Anyone, then, who knows the good he ought to do and doesn’t do it, sinsJames 4:17

Ever get cooties?

I probably got them – briefly – in the second or third grade.

A girl in my class allegedly had cooties.  At least, that’s what the other kids said.  This girl also happened to live on my street … just two doors down.

Her dad was a pastor, just like mine … but they were even stricter than our family.  For example, we were allowed to watch Shirley Temple movies on television, but her family wasn’t allowed to watch any movies, period.

And one day, I said the words “darn” and “gosh” while playing in her backyard, and boy, did I hear about it!  She said, “Ummm.  Those are bad words” – and then she threatened to tattle and tell someone that I said them.

So I guess if anybody at school had cooties, it was that girl.  In fact, she emanated cooties.

And because cooties are spread from one sex to the opposite sex, guys tend to keep their distance from girls who are infected with that dreaded condition.

When I became a pastor, I sometimes felt like I had a permanent case of cooties, causing most people to keep their distance from me.

It all began in high school.  I had this black knit high-neck shirt with a ring of white around the collar.  To me, it was just another shirt, but a few of my friends at church began calling me “Pastor Meyer” whenever I’d wear it … and sometimes, just “pastor” for short.

After a while, a whole group of guys began addressing me as “pastor” whenever they’d see me.  This was before I sensed God’s call into ministry.

Even though I was elected president of the high school group at church, some of my peers always seemed wary of me.  They didn’t know how to act around me.  (And in some cases, I didn’t know how to act around them.)

So when I became a youth pastor, and later a pastor, I had some inkling of what is was like to have “pastor cooties.”

You may be wondering, “What in the world is he talking about?”

Just this: I sensed that whenever people knew I was a pastor, they became uncomfortable around me.

When I’d sit next to a stranger on an airplane, I enjoyed finding out what he or she did for a living, but I was nervous about that person finding out that I was a pastor.  If they did, the conversation often stopped cold.

When I was around, I could sense that people cleaned up their language … and wouldn’t discuss certain topics … and didn’t know how to treat me … or treated me like The Other.

This was especially noticeable during my first few years in the pastorate when I would visit people in their homes.  One time, I visited the home of a mother-daughter duo unannounced.  When I knocked on the door, I could hear them scurrying around inside, but they never came to the door … even though I waited five minutes.

After that, I always phoned ahead, not only so people could clean their houses, but so they could hide whatever stuff they didn’t want their pastor to see.

I hated having pastor cooties.

There were three areas where I saw this most often:

First, cooties were an issue in counseling.  I learned early in my ministry that whenever I counseled someone multiple times, they came to view me as having PCs.  The better I got to know them – and their weaknesses – the more they would pull back from me.  And if they revealed a problem to me – and I later preached on that same problem – they somehow felt I was preaching at them.

So I made a policy that I would counsel people only once … just diagnosing their issue … and then recommend next steps they could take … like reading a book or seeing another counselor.

And fewer people thought I had PCs.

Second, cooties were a problem in social settings.  I grew up in the home of a Baptist pastor, and Baptists back then didn’t drink alcohol.  In fact, there was a line in the church covenant where we had to promise to refrain from the sale or usage of intoxicating beverages.  Unless my mother had a paper bag hidden somewhere, I’m not sure we ever had alcohol in the house.  I grew up not drinking and viewed that as normal.

But when my wife and I were invited to people’s homes, they would offer us wine, we’d politely decline … and right away, it felt like I had PCs again.

Third, cooties were a huge problem after a funeral.  Whenever I conducted a funeral in a mortuary, I’d stand at the head of the casket after the message while loved ones filed by.  It was my job to look for signs of uncontrollable grief and comfort people, but most of the time, people didn’t even see me.  Occasionally, someone would take my hand and whisper, “Good job,” but that was it.  The message marked me as having PCs – and nobody wanted to get infected.

You’ve heard the saying, “It’s lonely at the top.”  If pastors are at the top of their congregations, then they probably sense a great deal of loneliness.  In fact, 70% of all pastors do not have one good friend.

Why not?

Because pastors want to … and are expected to … live holy, righteous, distinctive lives – and this sets them apart from others.

Because pastors carry the pain of others around with them all the time … but choose to internalize the pain rather than share it with others.

Because pastors have trouble with powerbrokers and critics and staffers and board members … but they don’t believe it’s wise to share those problems with churchgoers indiscriminately.

Because pastors get exhausted and angry and depressed … and they don’t want people to see them that way, so they sometimes avoid people altogether.

I once saw a cartoon in Leadership Journal of a pastor who needed to use the restroom.  There were three choices: “Men,” “Women,” and “Clergy.”

Sometimes pastors wonder if they are a third sex.

But occasionally, there are people in a church who let the pastor know that even if he does have PCs, they love him anyway.

In my last church, one couple invited my wife and me over at various times … to watch election returns … or the Super Bowl … or for the 4th of July … or to watch the World Series … or just to feel safe.

They made me feel like even if I did have PCs, they didn’t care.  People like that are all too rare.

Now that I’m not a pastor anymore, do I still have PCs?  While there’s no surefire test, I’ll say no.

But you can help: if you’re in the Riverside area, come and visit me.  And if I’m in your area and wish to get together with you, I hope you’ll say yes.

Otherwise, I’ll be forced to wonder if I still have cooties.

I once got thrown out of Dodger Stadium.

It’s true.

When I was in eighth grade, my uncle took his son, my brother and me to a Dodgers-Mets game at Chavez Ravine.  It was the last Friday game of the season, Game 160.

We sat where we always sat at Dodger Stadium: in the general admission deck at the very top of the stadium.  Back then, I think it cost 75 cents for a kid to sit there.

My brother, cousin and I all sat in the front row of the top deck.  My uncle sat a few rows back.

The Dodgers weren’t very good that year, and the game was boring.  My brother and cousin would do anything on a dare, so I dared them to do something.

Expectorate over the railing and try and hit a certain bald guy in the head.

The two of them tried to hit him.  Oh, how they tried.  And when the guy below turned around and looked up at them, they pulled back and hid their faces.

But when he angrily stormed up the aisle – presumably in search of an usher or a policeman – the three of us hid in the men’s bathroom … where we were quickly caught … and discharged from the stadium.

My uncle was not happy.

“Honestly, I didn’t do it.  I didn’t do anythingThey did it all.”

But I suggested the idea … even if no fluids ever left my mouth.

I certainly bore at least some responsibility for our having to leave the ballpark that night … and I never tried a stunt like that again.

Does my little story have a familiar ring?  Remember what happened in the Garden after the first couple ate from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil?

Adam told God, “The woman you put here with me – she gave me some fruit from the tree, and I ate it.”

Eve told the Lord, “The serpent deceived me, and I ate.”

Wanting to maintain the illusion of perfection … before both God and each other … the parents of humanity did not claim any responsibility for their sinfulness.  They chose to say instead, “She’s the one to blame!” and “The devil made me do it.”

The two stories above are just a microcosm of what’s happening today in our culture.

A woman hates everyone … and blames her parents for her isolation even though they’ve been dead for years.

A man gets divorced … and blames his wife for her controlling ways.

A boss gets reprimanded … and blames three of his subordinates for all his troubles.

A church member is corrected for gossipping … and blames her misbehavior on her husband.

A president is overwhelmingly elected … and still blames many of his problems on the previous administration.

Maybe the woman’s parents were abusive … and the man’s wife was controlling … and the boss’ employees were problems … and the pastor did overreact a bit … and the previous president did leave things in a mess.

But does this mean that the accusers bear no responsibility for their failures?

Thirty years ago – can it be? – in his classic work The Road Less Traveled, Scott Peck wrote a chapter called “Neuroses and Character Disorders.”  Peck writes:

“Most people who come to see a psychiatrist are suffering from what is called either a neurosis or a character disorder.  Put most simply, these two conditions are disorders of responsibility, and as such they are opposite styles of relating to the world and its problems.  The neurotic assumes too much responsibility; the person with a character disorder not enough.  When neurotics are in conflict with the world they automatically assume that they are at fault.  When those with character disorders are in conflict with the world they automatically assume that the world is at fault.”

The statistics indicate that an increasing number of people are developing character disorders.  They fail to take responsibility for their actions, blaming others for their misbehavior.

When I was a pastor, I suspected that some of the people I had difficulties with had character disorders.  The tipoff was that they would never admit that they made a mistake or did anything wrong.  Even when they were caught redhanded telling a lie, they didn’t say what I heard them say.

In other words, it was all my fault.

It’s one thing to deal with someone with a character disorder occasionally at church.  It’s another thing to have a person with this condition as your parent, your boss, or your spouse.

Peck concludes his brilliant chapter this way:

“When character-disordered individuals blame someone else – a spouse, a child, a friend, a parent, an employer – or something else – bad influences, the schools, the government, racism, sexism, society, the ‘system’ – for their problems, these problems persist.  Nothing has been accomplished.  By casting away their responsibility they may feel comfortable themselves, but they have ceased to solve the problems of living, have ceased to grow spiritually, and have become dead weight for society.”

If you recognize such a person in your life, how can you relate to them?

First, realize you cannot get close to them.  We can only become close with people who display authenticity.  If you admit a weakness in your life to this person, don’t expect them to reciprocate.  They will disappoint you because they cannot be vulnerable.

Second, avoid working with them if at all possible.  When things go poorly, guess what?  They’ll blame you as a way of diverting the spotlight away from themselves.

Third, understand that you cannot work for them.  Some supervisors are sociopathic.  (There’s a lot of literature online about this problem.)  They charm their superiors while demeaning those who work underneath them … and divert any and all responsibility for failure to those they supervise.  When they make a mistake, they find someone else to blame.  It’s a sickness, and it can’t be resolved through prayer, office politics, or going to HR.  You can either quit, seek a transfer, or visit a counselor.

Finally, realize that people with character disorders will not change.  Why not?  Because somewhere along the line, they stopped taking responsibility for their choices.  Neurotics can change because they take responsibility – albeit too much – for their lives.  But people with character disorders are frozen in immaturity.  They may have the intellect of someone 42, but they’ll forever have the emotional intelligence of someone 13.

My guess is that you have a co-worker, a neighbor, an acquaintance, a supervisor, or a family member in this category.  Pray for them … and protect yourself and your family from them.

Imagine that you and the team you’re leading at church fail to meet a project deadline.

A healthy person does not say, “I’m 100% innocent … and my team is 100% to blame.”

A healthy person does not say, “I’m 100% to blame … and no one else bears any responsibility but me.”

The healthy person says, “I bear some responsibility for that mess-up.  Others do as well.  But I’m going to admit my part first … whether or not others admit theirs.  And I’m going to learn from this experience and not repeat my mistakes.”

Our Savior said it perfectly in Matthew 7:3-5:

“Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye?  How can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when all the time there is a plank in your own eye?  You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.”

Most mornings, while working out on my treadmill, I run to classic rock while watching ESPN.

This morning, I saw highlights from last night’s Celtics-Heat playoff game.

Paul Pierce of the Celtics bulldozed over another player during overtime and was called for a foul … and fouled out of the game.

But did he do it?  According to Pierce’s body language, he did NOTHING wrong and shouldn’t have been called for any foul.

Then LeBron James backed into a defender on the other side of the court and both of them fell down.  When James was called for the foul – and he too fouled out – he couldn’t believe it.

It was the defender’s fault … or the ref’s fault … or the fault of Boston Garden (which seems to make “homers” out of refs) … or the fault of those little green leprechauns that inhabit the Garden.

But LeBron James’ fault?  No way.

There was a show on TV when I was a kid called Romper Room.  Believe it or not, I had the show’s theme song on record.  The chorus went like this:

I always do what’s right

I never do anything wrong

I’m a Romper Room do bee

A do bee all day long

Seems to me the first two lines of that song perfectly encapsulate the attitudes of millions of people in our country … especially the second line: “I never do anything wrong.”

A Christian counselor friend of mine once told me that we’re raising a generation of sociopaths.  The latest estimates are that 4% of the population has anti-social personality disorder (the new term for sociopathy), characterized by a complete lack of conscience.

As Dr. Archibald Hart told me after class one day, the sociopath feels no anxiety before doing wrong and feels no guilt afterward.  This person lacks a moral core.  While the sociopath can be outwardly charming, he or she is inwardly manipulative.

And what does this person want more than anything else in life?

To win.

The sociopath will do anything to win.

They choose targets … people who threaten them or who they think are weak … and then bully them or abuse them or lie to them just to watch them squirm.

You’ll find these people running countries … and supervising employees at work … and in families … and in politics … and even in your neighborhood.  (Dr. Martha Stout’s excellent book The Sociopath Next Door asks this question on its cover: Who is the devil you know?)

Although a layman cannot properly diagnose someone as a sociopath – it takes a well-trained psychologist to do so – we can at least suspect someone of having the condition if they demonstrate certain symptoms.

The reason I bring this up is that the last place we’d expect to find a sociopath is in a Christian church.  After all, isn’t the confession of sin a requirement for both conversion and spiritual growth?

As 1 John 1:8 puts it, “If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us.”  Verse 10 goes on to say, “If we claim we have not sinned, we make him out to be a liar and his word has no place in our lives.”

And yet sociopaths slip into church leadership … and onto church staffs … and behind church pulpits … fooling EVERYBODY along the way.

I’ve worked with a handful of church leaders that I suspected fit this description.

They were charismatic individuals.

They ignored authority.

They made the same mistakes over and over again … and didn’t learn anything from them.  (One leader kept getting traffic tickets, and instead of changing his behavior, he’d fight the tickets in court … and win.)

They put on a facade of charm for their adoring public … while engaging in sabotage behind the scenes.  (Whenever I had to correct their behavior, they would tell their fans, who would become upset with me.)

But what I’m most concerned about isn’t the presence of sociopaths in churches.

I’m most concerned about the fact that we’re raising sociopaths in Christian homes.

Let me give you an example.

Imagine that you have a daughter named Jane, who is in the fourth grade.

One day, Jane’s teacher calls you at work and tells you that Jane’s grades are poor and that she’s been misbehaving in class.  The teacher wants to meet with you … right away.

So you meet with Jane’s teacher, who shows you copies of Jane’s incomplete and poorly done assignments … and shows you indisputable proof via surveillance that Jane’s behavior in class is out of control.

Once upon a time, you and Jane’s teacher would collaborate together and come up with a plan for dealing with Jane’s behavior.  Call it a PTA … a parent teacher alliance.  With a strong alliance between school and home, Jane would be forced to change her behavior.

But what happens in our day?  You become incensed because Jane’s teacher doesn’t view your daughter as being perfect … so you blame Jane’s teacher for Jane’s misbehavior … as well as the school … and the curriculum … and Jane’s classmates … as well as President Bush.  (Can you believe that some people are still blaming him for problems in our country, even though he hasn’t been president for almost four years?)

Instead of forming a PTA, you have just formed a PCA (parent-child alliance) with your daughter and against her teacher … and by extension, every other authority that will come into her life.

And what will happen to Jane?  She may grow intellectually … and vocationally … but she won’t be able to grow emotionally or spiritually.

Why not?

Because you, as her parent, will not let her learn from her mistakes.

Could this be a reason why so many college graduates are living at home with their parents?  Just asking.

I’ll have more to say on this matter next time …

I’d love to hear your thoughts on this matter.

Pride.

It’s the name of a song by U2.

It’s the last name of a country singer.

And it’s one of the seven deadly sins … maybe the deadliest.

And for some reason, it’s a sin that pastors – of all people – are susceptible to.

Pride is something we recognize in others.  Years ago, I remember hearing the pastor of a prestigious church speak during a conference at my seminary.  While he was an excellent speaker, he turned out to be the hero in every story he told.

I could detect the pride in his life … but all too often, miss it in mine.

C. S. Lewis said that the first step to combatting pride is for a person to admit that he or she is proud … but most of us are really good at convincing ourselves that we’re never proud.

Say it with me: “Sometimes I can be a pretty proud person.”

So can pastors.

Last time, I shared three ways that pastors display pride in their ministries.  Let me share two more ways:

Fourth, pastors are conscious that they stand between God and people.

In the Old Testament, a priest represented people before God, while a prophet represented God before people.  But in both cases, these leaders knew they had been called to do something special.

Represent the Almighty.

As a pastor, I sensed that I represented God whenever I preached, or baptized someone, or offered communion, or led in public prayer, or engaged in counseling, or did an infant dedication, or shared my faith.

And it doesn’t take long for a pastor to look around and notice that he’s doing things that nobody else in that spiritual community is doing.  That can make you feel … special.

This doesn’t automatically lead one to pride … but representing God sure can be heady stuff.

In his classic book A Minister’s Obstacles (a book inscribed by my grandfather on May 9, 1949), Ralph Turnbull writes:

“The minister is the prey of pride because he traffics in holy things and is in danger of familiarity with sacred elements of truth and life.  Pride goes with us frequently to our studies and there sits with us and does our work, chooses our subject and words and ornaments, and even accompanies us into the pulpit.”

On rare occasions, while I was preaching, this unwelcome thought would enter my head: “You’re presuming to speak for the God of the universe.  Wow!  You’re really something.”

I’d do my best to bat that thought away before it took root … but the thought would assault me from time-to-time.

Where do thoughts like that come from?  From the Proud One himself.

And they must be resisted as soon as they occur.

Finally, pastors sometimes conduct ministry in their own strength.

Warren Wiersbe, a great pastor to pastors, once wrote that a pastor should be broken before God, but bold before men.

But there is a real temptation in ministry to be bold before men without being broken before God.  Pastors who serve churches in their own strength cause manifold troubles in churches.

Some pastors are naturally charismatic people.  They can get up on a Sunday morning and be interesting without studying or praying or preparing in any way … a few times.  But eventually, it catches up with you.

Someone once told me about a pastor who played tennis on Sunday mornings.  The storyteller used to drive to the tennis courts and pick up the pastor for morning worship.  The pastor would clean up and get dressed just in time to slip through the back door onto the platform and preach his sermon.

Of course, an arrangement like that doesn’t last very long.  Pride, indeed, goes before a fall.

In fact, I believe that many pastors are involuntarily terminated not because they’re inexperienced, or incompetent, or indecisive, but because their pride keeps them from adapting themselves to the leaders and people in their church.

It’s my belief that a pastor needs to constantly remind himself of these truths:

“I am a creature.  God is my Creator.  I am a sinner.  God is my Savior.  I have been called to ministry by God’s grace.  There is nothing in me that made God choose me.  As long as I remember that God is God and I am merely His servant, He may choose to bless my life and ministry.  When I start thinking that I am God and He is my servant, I’m in deep trouble.”

If you’re a pastor, just remember that you are who you are because God graciously called you into ministry.

If you’re a parishoner, pray for your pastor’s walk with God … that he might continually glorify God – not himself – and resist the ever dangerous temptation to be proud.

It’s a battle many of us will fight our entire lives.

In the minds of many people, two words rarely go together.

Pastors … and sin.

Since pastors preach against sin, some people come to believe that their pastor is sinless … or at least nearly so.

But when you hang around groups of pastors, as I have for years, you discover that pastors are sinners, too.

They’re just better at hiding their sins than most people.

If you had to guess one sin that pastors commit more than any other, which one would you choose?

Greed?

Sloth?

Wrath?

Lust?

Envy?

Gluttony?

The six words I just mentioned constitute six of the seven deadly sins.  Like all humans, pastors are susceptible to any and all of these shortcomings.

But I left one sin out.

In his classic work Mere Christianity, C. S. Lewis devoted an entire chapter to this sin.  In fact, he called it “The Great Sin.”

Know what it is?

It’s pride.

Lewis said that pride is the complete anti-God state of mind.  Pride is preoccupation with yourself, the belief that you are superior to other people … even when there’s no basis for it.

We all struggle with this issue – even pastors.

Let me share with you three ways that pastors display pride … sometimes unknowingly.  I’ll share two more ways next time.

And I include myself in everything that I write.

First, pastors love to hear themselves talk.

I guess most people do … but more than in most professions, pastors are paid to talk.

We expect pastors to preach from the pulpit.  What we don’t expect is for pastors to preach in private settings.

So try this experiment: if you ever find yourself in a social setting with a pastor, notice what happens.

Regardless of who holds the floor initially, see if the pastor eventually holds court … and if he determines the topic for discussion.

Winston Churchill once volunteered his idea of a good dinner: “to discuss a good topic – with myself as chief conversationalist.”

That’s true of pastors, too … although they could probably learn more by listening.

Why are pastors like this?  I’m not sure.  In my own case, I’m not very good at small talk, so if I can steer a conversation around to a larger issue, I’m more comfortable joining in … and that may be true of other pastors, too.

Second, pastors are competitive with their peers.

The day Magic Johnson announced he had AIDS, I was invited to meet with a group of pastors for some strategy sessions at a mountain cabin.  (There were 15 or so of us there.)

Someone asked the pastors to go around the room and share how their Easter services had gone.  Let me offer a typical response:

“Well, we had 757 people out for Easter this year, which was one-third more than we had last year.  God’s Spirit is really moving at our church.  I sense that we’re ready for a breakthrough.  Since I came to the church two years ago, our attendance and giving have doubled, and we’re reaching our community for Christ like never before.”

By the way, all the pastors answered the question in a similar fashion.  Easter went great … we’re really growing … I’m on top of the world … God is blessing.  (In some cases, I knew better.)

All except for me.  Nobody asked me how Easter went at our church … and nobody noticed that nobody asked me.  It was just as well.

I couldn’t compete with the big boys.

When pastors get together in larger groups, there’s a pecking order.  It’s determined by who dresses the best, or who has the most commanding presence, or who has seniority, or who has the largest church.  Pastors are never completely honest when they’re in a larger group of their peers.  They have a way of displaying their feathers.

Put them with a group of Christian psychologists, and their responses would be completely different.

Or if you placed one pastor in a group with two other pastors, they’d be much more honest … and that pecking order all but disappears.

Pastors aren’t nearly as competitive when they’re with doctors or attorneys or professional athletes.  In fact, pastors tend to be deferential toward people in those professions.

But when they’re with their peers, the competitive juices start flowing.  This is why I once heard J. I Packer say that pastors are a lot like manure.  When they’re all spread out, they do a lot of good, but when they get together, it’s just one big stink.

Third, pastors have a need to be know-it-alls. 

Pastors have a high need to be right.  They love to straighten people out.

I suppose it comes from their training.  When I was in seminary, we had to define and memorize specific biblical and theological terms … and Greek verb tenses … and dates in church history … and the beliefs of various world religions and cults … and what the Bible said about a host of social issues.

In most cases, my professors were absolutely convinced that their views were right and everybody else’s views … even those of fellow faculty members … were wrong.  It was the job of the professors (who held the right views) to correct the students (who held the wrong views).  So when we students were called to various churches, we modeled the attitudes of our professors.

We held the right views, while others held the wrong views.

It’s easy to absorb that attitude when you hang around a seminary for five years, as I did … which is why some Christian experts believe that a pastor’s most effective years begin only after he starts unlearning all the stuff he learned in seminary.

This need to be right is like a reflex action among pastors.  Some learn how to disagree with others graciously, while others run around trying to straighten out everybody with whom they disagree.

I believe that pastors continue to struggle with pride until they suffer greatly or are deeply wounded with their own unique “thorn in the flesh.”

I’ll write more about this theme next time.

Your thoughts?

“Telling is not teaching; listening is not learning.”

Back when I was in seminary, I remember hearing a phrase similar to that one.  The idea behind it was that people don’t learn very much when a teacher – or a pastor – tries to teach using a monologue.

So I learned about the teaching techniques of Jesus, and read a book about 70+ teaching methods, and tried to use as many as I could while preaching or teaching students.

But I always got the best response when I just preached rather than try and engage the listeners in interaction.

And with that in mind, I’d like to share two more qualities of great preaching:

Fourth, great preaching is anointed by the Holy Spirit.  While I’ve preached hundreds of sermons, and imparted lots of information to God’s people, I could usually tell when the Spirit was upon me as I spoke.

Not in me, but upon me.

Sometimes the Spirit of God just lifts you up and carries you along.  You speak effortlessly, without struggle.  You speak eloquently, without notes.  You speak effectively, without trying.

When the Spirit is upon you, it’s like time stands still.  You sense that you have become the mouthpiece of Almighty God for your hearers.  You know that in that hour, you are doing what you were born to do.

I believe that a congregation senses when the preacher is anointed as well.  This is just my opinion, but I’m not sure that any preacher is permanently anointed.  Rather, I believe the Holy Spirit anoints various preachers at various times for His own purposes.

While a pastor’s spiritual and intellectual preparation can set the stage for the Spirit’s anointing, the prayers of God’s people are vital to the anointing as well.

How many people have been praying for your pastor’s message this weekend?

And how much have you prayed for it yourself?

Finally, great preaching moves people emotionally and spiritually.  A sermon isn’t great just because it contains some Hebrew or Greek words, or because the pastor told a funny joke, or because he said something controversial.

A sermon is great if the truth of Scripture moves people’s emotions … and then prompts them to action.

And here’s the thing: the congregation won’t be moved if the preacher isn’t moved.

This means that great preachers are passionate people.  This doesn’t mean they yell or shout during their messages.  It does mean that they are excited about God’s Word and that their excitement is contagious.

The best preachers have suffered in life … enough to understand your suffering.  They know how to apply God’s Word to hurting souls.

And in my view, there just aren’t many preachers out there today who understand how to move people.

As I mentioned in my last article, I was greatly moved last Sunday.  When the pastor finished his message, I felt like receiving Jesus all over again.  While I don’t need to do that theologically, that’s the way I felt.

After the pastor was done preaching last Sunday, a staff member came up to introduce the offering.  He told this story:

One night, a woman was driving around with the intent of killing herself.  She happened to turn onto the street where the church property was located.  She looked and notice that the lights to one of the rooms was on.  She parked her car, found the room, and told the lady there, “Please give me a good reason why I shouldn’t kill myself.”

The lady listened attentively and talked the woman out of hurting herself.

Then the staff member said … and tears are welling up in my eyes right now … the reason we give is to keep the lights on for people like that.

That’s moving.  That’s real.  That’s motivating.

We need more of that … much more … in our churches today.

The greatest definition of preaching that I’ve ever heard came from the brilliant David Martyn Lloyd-Jones, who preached at Westminster Chapel in London for many years.

He said that preaching is “logic on fire!”

If we could just hear more preaching like that, we wouldn’t be talking to ourselves so much.

We’d be talking more effectively to the lost world around us.

Who is the greatest communicator you’ve ever heard?

It’s hard to pick just one, isn’t it?  There are many great speakers out there, both in the secular realm and in churches.

In 1986, I had the opportunity of attending COBE – the Congress on Biblical Exposition – and heard many of the greatest Christian preachers all week long … men like John Stott, Chuck Colson, Chuck Swindoll, J. I. Packer, Stuart Briscoe, Howard Hendricks, and many more.

We heard two sermons every morning and two sermons every evening.  It might sound like it was on the boring side, but it was extremely exciting for me.

I brought along a notebook and wrote down everything I could about the way these men preached.  For example, while all of them wore suits, I noticed that half of them buttoned their suit jacket, while half did not.

Packer told the best joke.  Hendricks didn’t use a note or miss a word.  Stott was stately but clear.  Swindoll was the most human.

I bring this up because I’ve been listening to a lot of preaching recently, and I haven’t been hearing many memorable sermons – until last Sunday.

I heard a great sermon last Sunday … and it made me wonder, “What constitutes great preaching?”

Let me offer several qualities of great preaching:

First, great preaching is always biblically-based.  Great preaching starts with God’s Word, not current events, or a pastor’s personal feelings, or the latest film or TV show.

Led by God, a pastor selects a text – while preaching through a Bible book, or a section of Scripture, or a topical series – and interprets the text honestly.  This means the preacher doesn’t make the text say more than it really says.

When an interpreter reads his own ideas into the text, that’s called eisegesis.  When an interpreter tries to understand the text in context and “take out” what’s there, that’s called exegesis.

For the most part, the pastors I’ve heard preach have given biblically-based messages.

But only a handful have really worked the text … a skill that’s all too rare these days.  By working the text, these preachers deal with Scripture as it’s written but point out connections that bring the text alive.

Second, great preaching features original stories.  Several Sundays ago, I attended a church where the pastor did not tell one story or use one illustration during his entire message.  Not one story!

Wasn’t Jesus above all a master storyteller?

As a listener, I won’t remember any exegesis three days later.  I might remember an exhortation or two.  But a good story will stay with me for a long, long time.

I heard some great stories last Sunday.

The pastor said that when he was 13 years old, he and some friends needed money to buy key chains, but they didn’t have any, so they printed fake lottery tickets and sold them door-to-door.  After they bought their prizes, the pastor came home and saw two police cars parked outside his house.  When he walked in – oblivious to what was happening – his parents and grandparents were waiting for him … and an officer told him to sit down.  The young man was given two choices: either go with us in the squad car to jail or go door-to-door, return people’s money, and admit you lied and defrauded them.

The pastor chose the second option.  He told us, “I wasn’t really given a choice as to whether I repented or not.  But you have a choice today … will you repent of your sin and receive Jesus?”

Love it.

The best storytellers – like Steven Brown, or Stuart Briscoe, or Bill Hybels, or Chuck Swindoll – don’t tell stories that they got out of a book, or that they found on the internet.  They tell stories that happened to them, which makes their storytelling both original and authentic.

It’s the difference between a singer covering somebody else’s song (think American Idol) and a singer singing a song he or she wrote from their own life.

When I took Sermon Prep in seminary, we were told to use an illustration – not always a story – every two minutes in order to hold people’s attention.  The best preachers not only tell stories you can remember, but they also tell stories where you can recall the point they were making.

Third, great preachers share with their hearers how they measure up to God’s Word.  If a preacher is telling me to tithe, the first thing I want to know is, “Do you tithe?”  If he’s telling me not to steal, I want to know, “How much of this sermon did you steal?”  If he tells me to love my enemies, I want to know if he’s ever tried to do that … and failed.

When I was first a pastor at age 27, it was much easier for me to preach certain parts of Scripture because I hadn’t yet dealt with those issues (like raising kids).  Now that I’m more than twice that age, I must confess there are parts of Scripture that I’ve tried to live out but don’t always do successfully.

To be authentic, a preacher needs to tell his congregation, “This is a tough part of God’s Word.  It’s not easy to live out.  Let’s share with each other when we have success in this area … and let’s encourage each other when we fail.”

Most of my preaching and writing heroes are authentic people before they’re public preachers … men like Don Baker, Chuck Swindoll, Archibald Hart, and Bill Hybels.  When Willow Creek was America’s largest church in the mid-1990s, I heard Hybels admit to having problems publicly that no one in the builder generation ever would have admitted.  I like preachers who aren’t image-conscious but integrity-conscious.

I’ll share a few more factors in great preaching next time.

What constitutes great preaching for you?

The key to preventing conflict in a group – whether it’s your family, your workplace, your neighborhood, or your church – is understanding the role that anxiety plays.

This is what family sytems theory teaches.

In my last post, I mentioned a woman named Ethel who is undergoing overwhelming anxiety in her own life.

Then she comes to church on Sunday … hoping to receive encouragement and comfort … and discovers that the music director has left the church without explanation.

With her anxiety already sky-high, she begins doing what all anxious people do.

She complains … to anyone who will listen.

The church is now in a dangerous place.

There are two kinds of anxiety in a church: acute or chronic.

Acute anxiety is crisis generated.  When the giving is falling behind budget, or there’s an influx of new members, or there’s a major shift in lay leadership, acute anxiety appears.

In a healthy congregation, the events causing acute anxiety are acknowledged and addressed so the anxiety is eventually abated.  People regain their perspective and are able to control their reactivity.

But chronic anxiety is embedded deep within the church system.  It’s a condition that never ends.  Even the slightest change in a church triggers reactive behavior.

To obtain relief from this anxiety, chronically anxious members act out their anxiety by making accusations, exaggerating events, and spreading rumors.  They’re uncomfortable with the way they feel, and so attempt to displace their anxiety onto others.

Imagine that you’re a member of the church I mentioned above.  The music director is no longer on the staff, and Ethel comes to you after the service to complain.

She’s angry with the pastor for not getting along with the music director.

She’s angry with several people on the music team she suspects pushed out the music director.

She’s angry that the music director is gone because she liked both him and his music.

What should you do?

First, let Ethel know that you can’t do anything about her complaints.

Second, encourage her to speak with the pastor or board members and share her concerns with them.  In fact, offer to go with her to speak with them if necessary.

Finally, let Ethel know that while she has the right to speak with a leader about this issue, she does not have the right to complain indiscriminately to others in the church.

Because Ethel wants someone to listen to her, validate her feelings, and take away all her anxiety.

But if you agree with her complaints – and throw in a few of your own – you have assumed her anxiety and you are dangerously close to becoming divisive.

It is not divisive to disagree with church leaders mentally.

It is not divisive to disagree with church leaders to their faces.

It is not divisive to disagree with church leaders when talking to a friend or family member.

But it is divisive to pool complaints with others … because people who share gripes are ripe to form an unofficial coalition.  And if they can find a leader … or a complainer offers to take on the task … they will start meeting in private.

And then they will put the needs of their group ahead of the church and start making demands.

And then you have division.

Church consultant Peter Steinke writes:

“It is the chronically anxious individuals in the church family who are apt to conduct a ‘search and destroy mission.’  They will not hesitate to impose their wills on others.  They make hostages of their gifts, attendance, and participation.  They employ their stewardship as brinksmanship.  Their ultimate threat is to run away from home – transferring or terminating their membership if an action is not rescinded, a person is not removed, or a demand is not satisfied.  These tactics are effective in church families that place a premium on peace and harmony.”

If those who are upset about the departure of the music director would speak with church leaders directly, they might discover the real reason why he left … which might alleviate their anxiety.

But if they don’t engage the leaders, and decide to take matters into their own hands, they’ll just make a mess of things and trigger even more anxiety in their congregation.

If and when those with complaints share their concerns with the church’s leadership, the way the leaders respond is crucial.  The key to church health is how the leaders respond whenever anxiety surfaces.

The more threatened the leaders feel, the more the congregation can be disrupted.

The more calmly the leaders manage anxiety, the safer people feel.

According to conflict expert Ronald Richardson, it’s the job of effective leaders to help keep down the anxiety level in the emotional system of the congregation.

And effective leaders do this best by managing their own anxiety.

When my wife and I were first married, we lived behind a church.

One Sunday, we visited that church.

As soon as we walked into the worship center, you could cut the tension with a knife.  Seriously.

The pastor stood up and gave announcements for twenty minutes.  The church was making changes in their scheduling, and he wanted to explain the changes to the congregation.

Good move.

But he spent so much time explaining that he became defensive.  I could sense that his explanation wasn’t working.

It wasn’t long before he was looking for another job.

I don’t know who, if anyone, was the human culprit in that situation.  But I do know that unchecked anxiety assumed control of that church.  I could feel it … and I was an outsider.

People probably blamed the pastor for things.

He probably blamed some board members and powerbrokers.

But most likely, the leaders allowed anxiety to run amok … and when that happens, chronically anxious individuals either leave the church or try and push out key leaders … usually the pastor.

The lesson is simple:

If you’re a parent, keep the atmosphere in your home calm.

If you’re a boss, make sure and manage the anxiety in your workplace.

If you’re a church leader, do what you can to keep anxiety from spilling out into your congregation.

Because as anxiety goes up in an organization, conflict escalates.

But when anxiety goes down, so does conflict.

What have you witnessed along this line?