Jesus’ 1-Star Reviews and Our Trauma Responses

Mike Leake

iStock-1175023310-1536x1024-1Jesus wouldn’t have gotten all 5-star Amazon reviews. Certainly the Pharisees would have been in the 1-star crowd. But there are others in the New Testament who would have given him bad reviews.

“0/10. The guy came into town and put demons into all my pigs. I lost tons of money. He did great harm to our community. Would not recommend an invite.” –Pig Farmer from Mark 4

“Healer? Yeah, right. He came into our town and had a long line of people waiting to be healed. He healed a few people, then he just up and left, leaving several people without any healing. If you’re going to be promoted as a healer then consider scheduling your time better so you have a chance to heal everybody, this selective healing stuff communicates the wrong thing to people.” –Crowd from Luke 4

“Not only would I like my money back, but I’d really like somebody to pay for my roof. Home insurance doesn’t cover that stuff.” –Homeowner from Luke 5

“Legalist. Not about grace at all.” –Rich Young Ruler

“He is an incredibly insensitive teacher. We had a tragedy where a tower fell on 18 people in our community. He uses it as a sermon illustration and tells everybody that if they don’t repent then they too will perish. Come on dude, way too soon to be making a point like this.” –Galilean Daily News

“He’s pretty much a drunk who likes to hang out with prostitutes all while calling himself a teacher of people. Apparently his “good news” is that you don’t even have to try to follow the Law. No thanks. We had almost a century of exile because of this thinking.” –Pharisees

The Point of the 1-Star Reviews in the Bible

Imagine reading through these 1-star reviews as a contemporary of Jesus. It might be somewhat difficult to discern the truth because each of these 1-star reviews has a pinch of truth to them. Jesus was around parties and people of ill-repute. He did tell those who asked about the Galileans that they should repent or perish. He did give law to the rich young ruler. He was partially responsible for a guy losing his pigs, another dude losing his roof, and a whole line of people did get sent home without healing. But that was never the full story.

While the pig farmer gives Jesus a 1-star review the demon-possessed guy gives him 5-stars. For every rich young ruler who cannot get out of his law-based way of thinking you have a multitude of others who are overwhelmed by grace. In many of the Gospel narratives there is someone who “gets it” and someone who walks away, ready to write up that 1-star review.

The Gospel writers have done this, I believe, in order to push their listeners into a decision. Will we be the pig farmer, who—just as Jonah—mourned the loss of the lesser thing and missed the greater? Or will we see Jesus for who He really is and respond accordingly? There is a bigger story going on than losing your pigs, or selling all your stuff, or even towers falling upon people. God invites us to see the bigger story.

How This Relates to Trauma

These questions are especially pertinent to those who have endured trauma and still experience trauma responses. Allow me to explain.

Trauma responses likely seem insensible to the outside observer. What does a trauma response look like? Note first that there are different types of trauma and I’m simplifying here for the sake of discussion. I also labored over whether or not to share something from my own story or simply make up a story that would make the same point. I decided on telling some of my own story because in this particular article I’m hoping to speak tenderly to those who may also have a trauma response.

There is much more to tell in this story (background information that goes back years prior) but I’ll tell a simplified version to explain trauma. A few years ago I had a really difficult stretch of pastoral ministry. In one particular month I had 1-2 people per week come into my office and either aggressively yell at me or passively attempt to shame me. That’s where the door bell comes in.

I didn’t realize it at the time but I was developing a trauma response to the sound of a door bell. Whenever I heard it I became anxious and fearful. My heart rate would swell and I’d develop a bit of panic. That’s a trauma response. But I didn’t even know this was happening until I was put in an entirely different situation. The door bell rang and I had zero reason for a trauma response. I was no longer in the same situation. There was no threat. But my body told me there was a threat whenever the door bell rang. So I panicked.

Door bells caused me harm. Or did they?

Imagine that I wrote a 1-star review of this particular door bell. “There is something shrill and particularly annoying to the beep. It’s so bad that it causes me to become anxious and start to sweat. I’d recommend a different door bell.”

But the door bell wasn’t the problem, my trauma was. I’d have given a 1-star review to something because it triggered me—but the door bell didn’t do a single thing wrong. Nor did the person ringing it. Thankfully, after a few months of safety the door bell hardly even elicits a response from me. There is healing.

Conclusion

I have had to learn this lesson over the years (and this extends far beyond door bells): simply because someone harms me it does not by necessity mean that they are harmful. The little phrase “by necessity” carries much weight in that sentence. It might mean that they are harmful. But it does not necessarily. And this is a point which those of us who have trauma history have to reckon with.

I am the one ultimately responsible for my triggers. I am the one who has to work through all the trauma. That, of course, stinks. It doesn’t seem fair that even though you were the one who was traumatized you also have to be the one who lives with the scars and the one who can become culpable for how you respond.

The enemy means for trauma to push us into giving Jesus a 1-star review. And it can do that. But there is a bigger story being told. Jesus, who endured mounds of trauma, walked through darkness to give us light. He bore our shame to make us whole. Yes, he cast demons into a bunch of pigs and it caused a guy to lose his farm—but it made another human being whole. Trauma doesn’t get the last word. Jesus does.

“He has made me whole. 5-stars.” –Mike Leake, someday.

Why Pastors Would Do Well to Stay In Our Lane

Mike Leake 3 Comments

photo-1520594923568-1b5d82587f86We had a refrigerator quit on us the other day. So I did what any 21st century cheapskate does, I went on my Google machine and researched how to fix it. After reading a dozen or so message boards and watching a few YouTube clips I became an expert on my fridge. I was 100% confident that it was the display panel itself that needed replaced. $100 and a couple weeks later my new part arrived. I installed it and…..

Nothing.

Still not fixed. Apparently it wasn’t the display panel but the actual control board—the $179 control board. I think. But I really don’t have much of a way of knowing because I do not actually have any expertise in electrical parts, refrigerators, or any other appliance. I do not have the proper tools to test these things nor do I have the experience to properly troubleshoot. All I have is the internet…and now a couple hundred bucks less and a broke fridge.

Now, it’s one thing for me to tinker with my own stuff. I am somewhat handy and at times have saved my family money by fixing something myself. But wouldn’t it be a much different story if I convinced my neighbor that I was an appliance expert (lots of experience on the internet) and had him throw $200 into my incompetence? That’s a moral issue. Not staying in your lane is one thing when it impacts you, it’s quite another when your “expertise” has an impact on others.

I am sharing this story to make a point that I hope other pastors will heed. I’m convinced that we do great damage to our ministries when we fail to stay in our lane. For one, we can end up losing credibility in the important things because we were wrong on lesser things. Secondly, we can do actual harm to others by giving poor advice in areas we shouldn’t be advising in. Lastly, we are shaking hands with an ideology that will inevitably cut our own legs out from under us.

It is this last reason that I will discuss today. Allow me to begin with a John Calvin quote and then explain my point.

Indeed, vanity joined with pride can be detected in the fact that, in seeking God, miserable men do not rise above themselves as they should, but measure him by the yardstick of their own carnal stupidity, and neglect sound investigation; thus out of curiosity they fly off into empty speculations. They do not therefore apprehend God as he offers himself, but imagine him as they have fashioned him in their own presumption. When this gulf opens, in whatever direction they move their feet, they cannot but plunge headlong into ruin. –John Calvin

This quote from John Calvin has been incredibly shaping to my ministry. I believe the principle behind it can be expanded far beyond mere theological issues. Calvin’s words here is what inspires me to be pretty silent on many of today’s pressing issues. It’s really rare for me to speak out on things like vaccines, mask wearing, the economics of shutting down, political structures, and a host of other things. I might speak on them when they converge with issues of morality, and I’ll most likely speak on them when it is connected to faithfulness in Christ. But if the Scriptures do not speak clearly on an issue I firmly believe that as a pastor I do well to stay in my own lane.

I do believe, though, that there are two movements in our day and age which make this especially difficult for the pastor—both as temptations from within and from without. One of these movements is the death of expertise. If you have the internet you have access to a world of information. With access to all this information people can quickly become “experts”. Tom Nichols has written an excellent book, The Death of Expertise, on this very topic. He’s certainly correct when he says this:

These are dangerous times. Never have so many people had so much access to so much knowledge and yet have been so resistant to learning anything.

The second movement is a renewed emphasis upon the sufficiency of Scripture. Normally I would celebrate this. But I would argue that what is being emphasized is in reality a distortion of this precious doctrine. Today this doctrine has been widened to almost teach that you cannot use other sources without denying the sufficiency of Scripture. That is simply not the historical understanding of the doctrine. Historically this doctrine means that the Bible is the only resource needed to tell us how to please God. I appreciate Piper’s definition:

In other words, the Scriptures are sufficient in the sense that they are the only (“once for all”) inspired and (therefore) inerrant words of God that we need, in order to know the way of salvation (“make you wise unto salvation”) and the way of obedience (“equipped for every good work”). The sufficiency of Scripture does not mean that the Scripture is all we need to live obediently.

I think we pastors may be especially prone to latch onto the widening of this doctrine as expertise begins to die. If you cannot trust your doctor perhaps you can trust your pastor who holds the words of life. The logic looks something like this:

The Bible is sufficient in all things
Your pastor knows the Bible.
Therefore, your pastor is sufficient in all things.

The example I gave earlier of trying to fix my refrigerator is effective in showing why this proposition is ridiculous. Of course just because I’ve given my life to studying God’s sufficient Word it doesn’t mean that I’m now competent to fix my fridge. It’s easy to see how ridiculous that is. But for some reason it gets a bit more difficult when we start talking about political structures, biology, mental health, and a host of other issues that at least have some convergence with the Scriptures. But the principle is the same.

Consider this statement: “The Bible says all we need to know about medicine.”

How does the sufficiency of Scripture interact with that statement? Is it true? Historically speaking the doctrine of the sufficiency of Scripture would say something like, “The Bible says all we need to know in regards to pleasing God with our use/disuse of medicine.” That is a much different statement. The Bible does not say all there is to say about medicine. But where it does speak it does so authoritatively AND with the purpose of pleasing God. Yet there are many things to which the field of medicine speaks where the Bible is simply silent. That statement shouldn’t make us any more comfortable than saying that the Bible doesn’t tell you how to fix your fridge.

Now connect this with that John Calvin quote I shared earlier. When we have a scientific breakthrough which the Bible is silent on, what is the wise pastor to do? Certainly he is within his human rights to say, “I don’t agree with the science of this. I’m not convinced this is healthy.” But he is not able to say so with pastoral authority. Unless this pastor also happens to have a medical license he does not speak as an expert. Why? Because the Bible does not speak to this particular issue. That is the pastor’s field. Therefore, the wise pastor will stay in his lane on the issue.

When pastors dismiss experts in other fields they are unknowingly cutting off their own legs. We do not benefit from the death of expertise. Why? John Newton gives us the answer:

That sovereign power, which the Independents assume over their ministers, appears to me too great to be trusted in such hands.  If a man ranks as member of a Church of Christ, however ignorant, illiterate and illiberal he may be, though he has seen and known nothing beyond the bounds of his parish, though his temper be sour, and his spirit obstinate as a mule, still he thinks himself both qualified and authorized to teach his pastor.  Half a dozen persons of this description are sufficient to make a minister and a whole congregation uneasy through life.  Whatever burden we are supposed to have in the Establishment, we are free from this.  And I would be thankful for it.  (Wise Counsel, 223)

The priesthood of the believer is a glorious doctrine. But this beautiful doctrine does not flatten the importance of spiritual gifts and roles within the body of Christ. If you’ve set one apart for the work of ministry such a one is supposed to become an “expert” in the field of preaching and prayer. In one very real sense, when expertise dies so does the pastorate.

This is why I say when pastors dismiss experts they are cutting off their own legs. You’re assisting in the killing of expertise. What is sad in this particular cultural moment is that we pastors have been given a great opportunity to model how to helpfully engage with experts in other fields.

It’s okay to disagree. It’s okay to voice disagreement. But do you realize what you’re doing to your own ministry when you call experts in other fields “idiots, morons, etc.”? When you dismiss their research without humbly engaging it, do you realize what you’re training your congregation to do with your work?

It’s best to stay in our own lane. And when we have to merge in and out of our own field it is best to do so with humility. Let’s give our energy to that which we hold exclusively—the life-changing gospel of Jesus Christ. And let’s not overextend that gospel in such a way that it mutes the areas where it is principally concerned. 

—

Photo source: here

Aren’t You Tired of Fighting For Barren Land?

Mike Leake

photo-1542015149403-9ccaee1d87f5Psalm 120 is really resonating with me today. It’s the first of the Psalms of Ascent. Three times per year the Jewish people would leave their everyday lives and go on a pilgrimage “up the hill” to Jerusalem to engage in the worship of their God.

What does it take to walk away from everything for a couple weeks and trek up a hill to engage in worship? How do you hit pause on your duties? Can your everyday life survive a two-week hiatus?

My life had to be put on hold for two weeks recently. I was diagnosed with COVID and felt absolutely miserable. I’m still not at 100%. But this time away afforded me a good deal of thinking time. It helped me to think through priorities in my life. It made me think about slowing down internally. There is one word that emerged from my time away that echoes in my mind: wholeness.

The psalmist in 120 is fed up. He is distressed. “Deliver me, O LORD from lying lips, from a deceitful tongue”. It’s certainly his own lying lips which need deliverance, but the context looks to his social surroundings as well. “Too long have I had my dwelling among those who hate peace.” That’s an apt description of life below the hill. Life which doesn’t have time for the ascent up the hill. Life which must keep churning and burning in order to maintain all those life goals. It’s exhausting. These words from Chuck DeGroat floored me:

Rest is the most overused antidote to exhaustion today, and it hardly ever works. I know what the Bible says about rest, but I’m convinced we don’t understand what rest really means…We may define rest as stopping, sleeping, relaxing, enjoying – and all of these are very good! But we forget that we’re literally incapable of rest if we’re divided. Our inner divisions are what keep us from rest. (DeGroat, 129-130)

It’s impossible to find rest when you are not whole. It’s doubly impossible to find such rest in your everyday doings if your heart is divided. Even times of vacation will be fraught with inner turmoil. You can’t get away from your restlessness.

Yet we were made for rest. Rest is found up the hill. Yes, we live most of our days out in the flatlands. But we aren’t made for there. We’re made for being up the hill. We are made for ascent. Yet if we aren’t given the grace of being disenchanted by Meshech and Kedar we’ll keep fighting for our place in the bottoms. It’s a grace to look at your surroundings and say, “Too long have I made my dwelling among those who hate peace.” I can’t live here anymore. That’s when you start to look up the hill. That’s when you can walk away and pursue the wholeness that’s only found up the hill.

I appreciate Eugene Peterson’s words here:

Psalm 120 is the song of such a person, sick with the lies and crippled with the hate, a person doubled up in pain over what is going on in the world. But it is not a mere outcry, it is pain that penetrates through despair and stimulates a new beginning—a journey to God that becomes a life of peace. (Peterson, 25)

This is why Psalm 120 is resonating so deeply with me. I’m so absolutely burned out with all the fighting. I feel with the psalmist, “I am for peace, but when I speak, they are for war!” This seems to me like where I’m at in my wider ministry. I feel as if I’ve lost my voice amidst all the screaming and yelling. I want peace. I find myself unable these days to agree with people on either side of our poles. And I feel homeless.

War sells. War turns the eye. War enflames the passions and garners the attention we so crave. War unites as it divides from others. War has no time for nuance. War cares about truth more than victory. War is a noisy and clanging cymbal.

War is empty striving. War is making your home below the hill–fighting for a place in the badlands. War isn’t found up the hill. Yes, there are stances that must be had. There is a conquering and an endurance and a truth that is fought for with vigor and deep courage. But it’s a fight for wholeness. It’s a fight to keep hope and to war against the pull of self-centeredness. Up the hill is where rest is finally found because it is here that the dwelling of God is with humanity. It is here that we become whole.

Ultimately none of us are fit to ascend the hill. We’re too beholden to the flatlands. We’ve got thorns and thistles to maintain and crowns to manufacture. There is blood to taste from our endless battle, as a dog enjoys the blood upon his tongue from conquering his tail. We can’t ascend because we won’t.

Thankfully there is One who descended in order to ascend in our place. He’s calling us up the hill. Will we worship and labor for wholeness? Or will we war and waste away below the hill?

Let us ascend. “For here we have no lasting city, but we seek the city that is to come.” –Hebrews 13:14

—

Photo source: here

Could Anonymity Help Decrease Polarization?

Mike Leake

photo-1481174228429-b2c3f5680a7aI have a filing system for anonymous letters that I receive. They typically go straight from my hand into the trash. If somebody cannot attach their name to a critique then it makes it almost impossible to deal with it biblically*. This is not to mention what such a letter does to someone like me with trauma history.

I treat anonymous criticism on the internet pretty similarly. There are reasons why somebody might need to remain anonymous so on occasion I’ll interact with someone on social media who has a crafty username instead of a real name. For the most part my principle is to not give weight to anonymity.

Is it possible, though, that in our polarized climate a bit of anonymity could be beneficial? Let me explain.

I’m a Fantasy Football expert. My record doesn’t agree with that assessment, but in my mind I’m the smartest one in every league I join. It’s just that dumb luck for others sometimes gets in the way of my success. Part of what makes me so smart is reading Matthew Berry.

Berry has this fun little exercise he enjoys doing. Here is an example:

Player A: 21.9 PPG, 68.6% completions, 265.1 pass yards per game, 2.1 TD passes per game

Player B: 22.0 PPG, 67.3% completions, 260.1 pass yards per game, 2.3 TD passes per game

You don’t know who these players are, but you look at these stats and you think, “I’d take either of these dudes.” And then he reveals that player A is actually Ryan Tannehill and player B is Patrick Mahomes from week 7 of 2019 to November of 2020.

I would have never taken Tannehill over Mahomes. (If you’re more familiar with movies than football let’s just say that Patrick Mahomes is Brad Pitt and Ryan Tannehill is Marty Feldman). Yet when Berry frames his argument with the anonymous player A and player B it puts away all my pre-conceived notions about these players. I only look at the facts. I have to consider what is being said.

When he reveals that Tannehill was player A and Mahomes was player B, I do still argue with his conclusion. I ask about rushing yards and rushing TDs. Are they scoring the same amount of fantasy points? Does injury or teams they played against factor into anything? But, and here is the clincher, I was less polarized than if Berry would have started with Tannehill vs. Mahomes.

Can Anonymity Disarm and Decrease Polarization?

In some ways what Berry is doing is similar to what the prophet Nathan did with David. He told a compelling story and left out a few key details. He disarmed David and the king was able to see the facts as they stood. When Nathan lowered the boom, “you are that man”, there wasn’t much of a way for David to weasel out of Nathan’s loving net.

Chris Bail, author of Breaking the Social Media Prism, argues for the value of an anonymous social media platform. I’m skeptical, but I do think there could be some value in this at the “think tank” level. Bail is behind an interesting idea called DiscussIt. After observing interactions on this platform for months, Bail was given hope that “anonymous forums might facilitate more productive conversations across racial lines.” (Bail, 126)

It’s an idea worth considering. I don’t believe anonymity is generally helpful—but I’m open to the suggestion that in the right setting anonymity may actually be beneficial for decreasing polarization.

What do you think?

—

I say typically because there might be reasons for someone to give an anonymous letter. And there may be valid critique and a reason why said person cannot attach their name. So in these instances I’ll perhaps give the letter to a trusted friend, have them read it, and tell me if there is anything I need to address.

Photo source: here