Transitory Psychosis

I ran across a sports story yesterday that left me scratching my head. Here’s an excerpt:

Gordano were first to cross the whitewash, with wing Jack Thomas scoring out wide. The home side replied with an unconverted try, but the Sharks responded with a dominant period, with the superb Ben Harvey taking the ball to within yards of the line, No 9 Gavlar Yandell [no relation, by the way] eventually going over.



Playing down the slope, Gordano’s seven-man pack led by skipper Matt Rollings, still had the upper hand, with Harvey and flanker Mike Yandell [again, no relation] prominent.



With confidence high, the Sharks turned down a kick at goal, opting to use their powerful backs to run the ball. This paid dividends, with fly-half Aaron French crashing over.



Soon after Gordano were punished for overcomplicating a move in midfield. A loose pass was collected by the home side, and fluid passing saw the wing score in the corner.

Now, I’m a lifelong sports fan. But reading this story left me confused. What is the world is the “whitewash” and a “sin-bin.” What does a “fly-half” do and how do you “overcomplicate a move in midfield”? A rugby fan could answer all of those questions and move, but I am woefully ignorant of the sport of rugby. The terminology, descriptions, and jargon leave me with more questions than answers.

Near the article’s end, a realization hit me. This is exactly how the unchurched feel when they are confronted with the in-house jargon of Christianity. So often, we are speaking a language they don’t understand.

The further our culture moves away from its historical Christian consensus the more imperative it is that we define and refine our terminology so this marvelous message we bear can be accurately understood.

In truth, it’s hard work to “translate” the gospel into the language of our times. It is much easier to just speak to those who are already on the “inside.” And, in fact, a few (very few) will actually dig in to learn “our” language. But most will do what I’m doing with the rugby story. Smile, shrug my shoulders, and go back to what is familiar. We simply can’t be content to let that happen.

A newspaper editor told me once, “Words are little bombs.” He’s right. Words have the ability to set off huge explosions, devastating anyone nearby. They also have the ability to frame a discussion to the advantage of one side or the other.

Another term I see a lot these days is progressive. It’s often used in political discussions, almost always in reference to the liberal side. Lately, I’m seeing it in discussions regarding the work of the church. One side, usually the one advocating change, refers to itself as progressive. The other side is usually termed conservative, but I get the idea that some who consider themselves progressive would really like to call the others regressive.

Of course, by definition, progressive refers to that which is relating to or characterized by making progress. Certainly those who adopt that label want to think their agenda is all about moving forward. I’m finding, however, that some who call themselves progressives are not moving forward but away from. For instance, some who advocate the ordination of homosexuals are quick to call themselves progressive. In reality, they are moving away from the truth. Likewise, some American politicians who call themselves progressives are simply moving away from the bedrock values of the United States.

Personally, I’m in favor of true progress–a move forward–toward that which is truly for the betterment (both temporal and eternal) of all people. When I see such moves, I’ll be glad to stand with the progressives. But when the move is away from the truth, I’ll gladly stand with those who seek to preserve it.

In the meantime, let’s be cautious in the way we choose and use our terminologies. Especially in the church, we must be fair in not only what we say about our brethren but what our terms imply about them as well.

As my 51st birthday approaches, the reality is setting in: I’m not the young guy anymore. (No, I didn’t just buy a mirror.) Of course, I’ve known my chronological age all along, but I’ve just been introduced to my “ministry age.”

I read an article from Leadership Weekly, the weekly e-newsletter from Leadership Journal. The article by Jimmy Long, “Determine Your Ministry Age,” points out that our assumptions about leadership reflect the values of our generation. This is especially true in a multi-generational organization like a church.

The article includes a 25-question quiz that helps the reader determine his “ministry age.” By answering the questions and adding up the numerical value of the answers you come up with a ministry age that places a person in one of three categories: Younger Leaders, Pragmatic Leaders, or Traditional Leaders. The intent is not to rate one type of leader above another but to create an ongoing dialogue among leaders regarding why we lead the way we do, how divergent values affect a leadership team, and what kind of leadership is needed to carry forward the work of the church.

Interestingly, your ministry age may be above or below your chronological age. Mine is 48. To find our yours go here. It’s fun and free.

I’ll be attending a funeral this weekend. The deceased is a cousin of mine and a long-time pastor. He was, in fact, my pastor for a time when I was in college. You will not find his name among the pastoral “superstars.” He was never invited to speak at a big “church growth” conference or quoted as an authority on preaching. He was, however, a faithful man of God who loved God, loved people, and was true to his calling.

I’m actually looking forward to the service in a way. It will be a celebration of a live well lived and a glorious entrance into heaven. There will be a number of people present whose lives were impacted by the deceased. I expect more than a few admirers and perhaps even some who were not his fans. No doubt, his faithful, compassionate, and often Christlike ministry will be remembered fondly. So, too, will his godly character.

He’s not the only one of his kind. In hundreds of churches, in rural communities and sprawling cities, there are men just like him who serve God and their flocks with dignity and grace. They live exemplary (not perfect) lives, often serving in hard places for low wages. You won’t hear about them on the news. Their congregations are too small for the media to notice and their conduct is too righteous to create a scandal. Their only recognition comes from their small flock and the God who sees all.

One day, these faithful men of God will step into glory and another man, nameless and faceless to this world, will step up to take their place. Friends and family will mourn the passing of these men. Few others will pay any attention.
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