A Tip To Encourage the Pastor’s Soul

Mike Leake 1 Comment

When is discipleship over?

Answering that is much like answering the question of when is parenting over. Never, really. I suppose there are certain times and certain milestones when you can say, “we’re getting somewhere”. There is certainly a significant step that has taken place when your child gets married and starts having babies of their own. But that doesn’t mean you are no longer a parent. It just changes stuff a bit. The same thing is true of discipleship.

And this is perhaps the most difficult thing about pastoral ministry. It’s never really done. Even if I somehow am able to mark off everything on my to do list for a week, it’s still not finished. There is never really a time when you can sit back and say, “we’ve done it!” Because even if you get something accomplished the wheels can fall off any second. You aren’t really in control of the fruit you are called to bear and produce.

It’s comforting to say things like, “I judge my ministry based on faithfulness.” That is one of the things which helps me to sleep at night. I know that at the end of the day my goal is to be a faithful ambassador of the Lord Jesus. There is only one voice whose “well done” really stands. But even still, I haven’t yet heard that voice.

This side of glory part of the burden of pastoral ministry is that you’ll never actually be done.

This is why I’ve taken up woodworking.

I think you should too. It doesn’t need to be woodworking. But I have found it to be immensely helpful to put physical effort and energy into a project which can actually be done. There is something encouraging and strengthening which happens in my soul when I spend hours on a thing and then see it come to fruition. It’s not just being able to enjoy a job well done. It’s cathartic. It’s a testimony to the fact that things really can be completed.

I would encourage any pastor to find a hobby like this. Not sports. Those aren’t ever done either. You can be World Champs (like my Royals in 2015) and then fall to the bottom of the barrel in no time (like my Royals in 2018). You need to find something which you can actually put energy and effort into that is finished. Try it. And you’ll find yourself getting rejuvenated.

Woodworking isn’t the ultimate answer to our soul’s need for completion. The ultimate answer is the tetelestai shout of Christ on the Cross. We labor with all of our might because Jesus has already accomplished everything we need for life and godliness. We labor in the here and now because we know there really is a day when we can say along with Christ, “it is finished”. But taking up a hobby like this is a helpful precursor to things to come.

If you want to get started woodworking there are tons of YouTube clips to help and you can also go on Amazon and find some helpful books and tools.

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Read This! 04.17.18

Mike Leake

Christian Villain: Is an actor’s pretend sin still sin?

I enjoyed thinking through this.

To a Church Seeking Revitalization

I think this is a very good idea.

When the Real You Suddenly Shows Up

Jared Wilson offers some biblical thoughts on moral failure.

We Need Counter-Cultural Common Sense

I nerded out on this one.

Puritan

Oh, this looks good.

Does Your Heart Run on Hype?

Glad to see the pendulum swinging towards ordinary…will be interesting though to see what the over-swing looks like.

How Do You Evaluate a Pastor?

A vast majority of the qualifications are character. But you do need to have skill.

When Your Spouse Won’t Join a Solid Church

“Among the many grievous situations in which a believer may find himself or herself, having a spouse who is either unbelieving or unwilling to join a biblical church can be one of the most burdensome.”

I’m told by many that this was the best sermon at T4G:

The Real Story of Ralph Barton’s Note

Mike Leake 1 Comment

I was recently working on a writing project which required me to sift through hundreds of sermon illustrations. When looking for illustrations on purpose I found one sermon illustration continue to crop up. This one on Ralph Barton:

Ralph Barton, one of the top cartoonists of the nations, left this note pinned to his pillow before taking his own life: “I have had few difficulties, many friends, great successes; I have gone from wife to wife, from house to house, visited great countries of the world, but I am fed up with inventing devices to fill up twenty-four hours of the day.”

I doubt very seriously that anybody in our congregations have heard of an early 1900s cartoonist. But his suicide note is such a great way to show the emptiness of a man who seemingly had everything. According to this snippet from his suicide note Barton ended his life because he never could find purpose or meaning and he was tired of trying to entertain himself daily.

But I did a bit of research and found the real suicide note:

Everyone who has known me and who hears of this will have a different hypothesis to offer to explain why I did it. Practically all of these hypothesis will be dramatic–and completely wrong. Any sane doctor knows that the reasons for suicide are invariably psychopathological. Difficulties in life merely precipitate the event–and the true suicide type manufactures his own difficulties. I have had few real difficulties. I have had, on the contrary, and exceptionally glamorous life–as lives go. And I have had more than my share of affection and appreciation. The most charming, intelligent, and important people I have known have liked me–and the list of my enemies is very flattering to me. I have always had excellent health. But, since my childhood, I have suffered with a melancholia which, in the past 5 years, has begun to show definite symptoms of manic-depressive insanity. It has prevented my getting anything like the full value out of my talents, and, for the past three years, has made work a torture to do at all. It has made it impossible for me to enjoy the simple pleasures of life that seem to get other people through. I have run from wife to wife, from house to house, and from country to country, in a ridiculous effort to escape from myself. In doing so, I am very much afraid that I have spread a good deal of unhappiness among the people who have loved me.”

The truth of Barton’s death is much darker than that little snippet. Yes, this is the story of a man much like Solomon who couldn’t find satisfaction. But it’s more than that. This is the story of a man who was unable to “enjoy the simple pleasures in life”. Trying to escape from yourself is much different than being disappointed because you’ve found the bottom of a world of pleasure.

I’m sharing this with you because I believe there are several people like Barton around us who appear to be pleasure seekers but in reality are identity-searchers. I think Barton really believed that he should find pleasure in these things in life. And given a healthy mental framework he likely could have. It’s important to note that he isn’t seeking these pleasures to get a constant high. This isn’t a man riding an increasingly dangerous roller-coaster looking for the next thrill. This is a man putting on different masks trying to see which one fits.

So if you’ve got somebody in your life like Barton you don’t preach the gospel to him like a pleasure seeker who has finally hit bottom. Your bridge isn’t to say, “Guess what, friend, Jesus is the eternally satisfying treasure that you’ve been looking for.” You don’t say that because he isn’t on a treasure quest. And you’ll set the man off on the wrong foot as he is exploring Christ.

Perhaps it’d be better to explore why this man wants to escape from himself. That last line of the suicide note is clearly from a man who feels the unbearable weight of guilt over those who he has hurt. My guess is that Barton isn’t even looking for a mask to see which one feels right and corresponds to his identity. Instead, he’s likely trying to find one which he can sufficiently hide behind. He wants covering. He wants a different identity than the one he’s got. That is your bridge to Jesus.

You know people like this. They look pleasure-seekers. They look like those who are trying to cut off the chords of Christianity in pursuit of sexual liberation. And if we think this whole thing is about pleasure instead of identity, we’ll miss our opportunity.

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And this is mostly unrelated to the overall thrust of the article, but for the love of Pete can we please check our sermon illustrations? Sometimes by lazily copying and pasting off sermon illustration websites we’re missing deeper stories. Get the whole thing, not just a snippet of a snippet.

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Thoughts On Underoath Losing Their Religion, and An Open Letter to Spencer Chamberlain

Mike Leake 2 Comments

One wouldn’t think that listening to a guy screaming only semi-intelligible words would strengthen your faith, but it can. I’ll confess that my first exposure to Christian metal didn’t lend itself to melting my face, more of being contorted with a grimace and confusion. I love hard rock as much as the next guy, but I didn’t understand the appeal of guys screaming at me. But I kept listening because I loved a group of former students who happened to be pursuing this genre as a potential career. I loved them. And they rocked. (Yes, I’m talking about you Inlow).

Then I started listening to Underoath. And then my exposure to Christian metal grew to include many other bands. Before long, I was understanding the words more. And before I knew it I was a fan of Christian metal. Rather than just noise and a guy screaming at me I began to understand the benefit of this genre for my soul. Maybe that’s an overstatement. But I learned the angst and desperation of metal was a great platform for expressing a battle for holiness. And it was fun to rock out to.

I was sad to learn last week that Underoath no longer identifies as a Christian band. Well, that part wasn’t really breaking news. Really the part that I was heartbroken by was the fact that Spencer Chamberlain no longer considers himself a Christian. And it breaks my heart because I get it. I can’t say I disagree with his concerns. I don’t have a drug addiction. I haven’t been on tour and sold out auditoriums. But as a pastor I can totally identify with this statement:

It was so much pressure and everything you did — no pun intended — you were crucified for. You couldn’t do anything without someone being angry. People don’t realize how much that weighs on you.

Christians can be brutal to one another. Not that non-Christians cannot be just as brutal—and even more so. I’ve had a few articles I’ve written get picked up in secular quarters, and when they disagree with you it gets ugly. They don’t pull any punches. But it doesn’t hurt as bad. What really hurts is when you’re in a room full of professing believers, trying to live out the faith as Jesus calls you to do, and you get dog piled. It weighs on you when Christians rage on  you about insignificant things. When this happens over and over again by those who claim to be followers of Jesus it does something to your faith.

And when you try to talk about it, you get torched even more. Again, what Chamberlain is saying here isn’t totally out in left-field. It’s legit:

My drug problem was very public and all of the Christian community hated me. I was struggling and all I was getting was hate, like, all I’m having is people tell me how _______ I am all the time. That’s not love, that’s not comfortable. The most alone and isolated I’ve ever been in my life is when I considered myself a Christian, personally. Because I had real issues going on in my life and no one could talk to me about it. There was no help. There was nothing. It was just hide it, don’t talk about because if you do you’re not Christian and the band can’t go on anymore and that’s such an unrealistic thing.

I think it’s terrible that I’ve felt the necessity to edit out the naughty word. I’m still going to edit the word, because I don’t want to give any unnecessary offense. I also do think we ought to use edifying words. But what’s terrible is that the most disgusting word in that paragraph isn’t the one included skubula.  The most anti-Christian statement is the one where Chamberlain says, “The most alone and isolated I’ve ever been in my life is when I considered myself a Christian, personally”. I don’t know Chamberlain’s story. Maybe he is just a bitter man raging against innocent people. But I’ve spent time in oppressive environments that called themselves Christian where I felt deeply alone. Brothers and sisters, this should never be. It’s horrible that a broken man who is claiming to be in Christ would need to feel isolated and alone because he was battling addiction.

Listen, we can theologize this. We can quote 1 John and say Chamberlain likely never had a relationship with Jesus. And this might be so. I know for me those darkest times are the places where I’ve met Christ most fully. Maybe some of the issue was that fame and celebrity and popularity propelled someone into the spotlight who wasn’t ready and it destroyed a faith that wasn’t actually biblical. Maybe. But I don’t know. And it’s not time for me to armchair quarterback or throw stones at Underoath.

It’s time to mourn. It’s time to weep for the fact that a young man facing drug addiction wasn’t met with the gospel but with shame. I’m not saying that he likely didn’t need to hear tough words of love. Who knows, he might have heard gospel but his heart was so turned off to God and focused on self that he took words of love as barbs of hate. That happens. But what if he really was met with the Pharisaical religion that so often masquerades around as Christianity? What if our moralism swallowed up another soul in the name of Jesus?

So here’s what I’d say to Spencer Chamberlain:

I get it. We’re hypocrites. We’re weak. Sometimes we mean well and say the wrong thing. Other times we are so insecure in ourselves and so divorced from drinking in gospel streams that we say and do really dumb things to hurting people. When we ought to be the hands and feet of Jesus we’re instead the pointed finger of the scribes and Pharisees. People should have been there for you. They should have responded better. And that hurts when we don’t.

But that’s why they/we all need Jesus. Yes, it’s true that people will know we are Christians by our love for one another. But it’s not true that the gospel is proven or negated by the faithfulness of Jesus’ followers. Christianity hinges upon whether or not there are bones of a crucified man somewhere in Jerusalem. That’s what we have to reckon with.

You shouldn’t have felt alone when you called yourself a Christian. Other believers should have been there for you. But more than anything I pray that you see that Christ has always been there for you. Even in those moments when Psalm 88 (the darkest psalm) is the one you can proclaim—when darkness is your only friend—know that Christ has gone deeper into the darkness. If anyone knows what its like to be truly alone it’s Jesus. He knows what it’s like to be struck and to watch sheep scatter and turn on him in the moment when he could have most used their companionship. So you weren’t alone even if every professing believer abandoned you and started throwing rocks at you.

Wrestle with the claims of Jesus. Do business there. Not with us, his followers. We blow it. Yes, there are times when we get it. We aren’t all bad. Sometimes you do see the glory of God shining through us. When you do that isn’t our humanity at it’s best, that’s just God’s glory peaking through a jar of clay. When your left alone and when we respond like idiots to hurting people, that’s when you don’t see the glory but the jar of clay. I don’t get why the Lord allows Christians to act like we do. I don’t understand why he doesn’t shut our mouths. My guess is that it’s because in the midst of all our weakness somehow Jesus shines through. I pray that you’ll see Him again.

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