Perceptions from a Pewboy

It has become one of my convictions that healthy and holistic leadership is leadership that stubbornly refuses to become fixated on results at the expense of relationships. To put it another way, healthy and holistic leadership is leadership that resists the temptation to become so obsessed with a particular destination that it begins to overlook the meaningful and revelatory encounters occurring within the journey.

Interestingly, this conviction found fresh illumination recently as I spent some meditative time with the first eight verses of the twelfth chapter of John’s Gospel.

The situation in this moment of Scripture is as follows: In a profound expression of both her love for Jesus and her adoration of his Lordship, Mary (the sister of Martha and Lazarus) takes the most expensive perfume that she owns and pours it over Jesus’ feet. My sense is that this gesture represents her most extravagant effort to help everyone in the room, including Jesus, to respect more deeply the nature of his life and ministry. It is Mary’s way of placing a tangible exclamation point upon her belief that Jesus is to be set apart and anointed for the purposes of God.

It would have been considered inappropriately intimate, by the way, for a woman to touch a man’s feet in public. It would have been considered even more inappropriate for a woman to dry his feet with her loose hair (since loose hair was often the style worn by prostitutes). In this biblical moment of consecration and adoration, however, Mary is not particularly concerned with societal norms and conventional etiquette. Her only desire is to do something extravagant and tangible to honor the One before whom she is willing to kneel.

Unfortunately for Mary, however, one of the disciples is also present at this meal. His name is Judas—and, yes, it’s THAT Judas.

Judas apparently has a different idea concerning who the Messiah is supposed to be and what the Messiah is supposed to do. He seems to believe strongly in the pursuit of ethical action and social justice. When he sees Mary pouring the expensive perfume onto the feet of Jesus, he cannot contain his displeasure over what he perceives to be a sinfully profligate display:

“Hold on,” Judas essentially says to Mary. “What’s the meaning of this?! We could have sold that perfume for a lot of money, all of which might have been used to minister to the poor!”

Judas, you see, is fixated upon a very noble end result: specifically, the end result of providing for the needs of the poor. And, before succumbing to the temptation to criticize Judas for missing the point, one must first acknowledge that caring for the poor is indeed a priority that has always been located somewhere very close to the heart of Jesus’ ministry.

But Jesus responds to Judas’ interruption with something other than an affirmation: “Judas,” Jesus says, “leave the woman alone. She bought this perfume so that she might keep it for the day of my burial.”

“The poor will always be with you,” Jesus continues, “but you will not always have me.”

Jesus’ teaching in this moment must not be interpreted as an effort on his part to downplay the urgency of caring for the poor. Even a cursory examination of Jesus’ life and ministry makes crystal clear the fact that the poor were always inseparably linked to the kingdom he came to inaugurate. Therefore, when Jesus tells Judas that the poor will always be with us, it cannot be regarded as an expression of indifference toward those living in the social margin of poverty.

But Jesus does seem to be teaching Judas that it is entirely possible for people to become so fixated on noble goals and ethical pursuits that they become inattentive and unavailable to the moments of authentic relationship that are developing right in front of them.

In this significant moment of Scripture, Mary is honoring Jesus in a way that bears witness, not only to her life-altering theological convictions concerning Jesus’ ministry, but also to her vulnerability and devotion. I am grateful that Jesus is a wise enough Savior (and a sensitive enough leader) to recognize the sanctity and preciousness of the moment.

Is it essential for leaders to keep the big picture in mind. Yes.

Is it essential for leaders to be vision-casters for God’s preferred future? Absolutely.

Is it essential for leaders to remind their people of the destinations and the end results for which they are working? Without a doubt, yes.

But it is also essential that leaders not become so idolatrous about their desired destinations and end results that they grow desensitized to the people standing alongside them in the journey, many of whom who are hungering for relationship and validation.

Back in 1995, I spearheaded an effort to launch a new worship service in the church to which I was appointed at the time. I was in my twenties, gung-ho for God and absolutely convinced that the God’s kingdom depended upon the successful launch of this new worship service. In fact, if my calculations back then were correct, then this new worship service would eventually become the eschatological doorway through which Jesus would return! (If any of you have ever been overzealous in your spearheading of a new ministry, then you will understand that my exaggerated description of my attitude is at least partially accurate.)

I’m pleased to report that the worship service began in successful fashion. Best of all, that worship service is still in place, fifteen years later.

Three months after the worship service began, I had a conversation with a church member who told me something unsettling. “You know,” she said, “I tried to talk with you half a year ago about some of my concerns about the new worship service.”

I told her that I remembered the conversation (vaguely).

“Well,” she continued, “I just wanted you to know that it never felt like you really listened to me. It felt like you were so eager to defend what you were trying to do that you didn’t really want to make any room for a differing viewpoint.”

I began to feel that burning sensation of being inwardly convicted.

“I’m not mad at you,” she said. “I know that you were really excited about what you were doing, and I’m thrilled that the new service has begun so well. But I just wanted you to know that it hurt to feel pushed aside. It hurt to feel like you didn’t care about what I thought.”

I’ll never forget that conversation because of the way in which it made me to understand how easy it is for leaders to become so fixated on holy results that they lose sight of the relational, tender, and Christ-centered moments that the Holy Spirit makes possible along the way.

In many ways, I am still learning this lesson. Not a month goes by that I don’t find myself playing the role of Judas, allowing my preconceived desires for particular results to interrupt a Mary’s effort to anoint the feet of Jesus.

Hello, boys and girls. Uncle pewboy here, praying that September is going well for all of you and that you have enjoyed the Steelers’ first two victories.

The man in the photo above is none other than Ziggy Stardust, the iconic and thoroughly androgynous rock and roll persona created by David Bowie back in 1972 (a year in which some worshiped polyester as a deity). Bowie’s Stardust has been on my mind in recent days because one of the song’s that he/she sang most frequently was “Changes” (from the 1972 Bowie album “Hunky Dory”). I find myself singing the chorus of that song even as I type these words:

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes
Turn and face the strain.
Ch-ch-changes.
Gonna’ have to be a different man.
Time may change me, but I can’t trace time.

Personally, I am finding evidence of ch-ch-changes wherever I look these days. Today, for example, September 16th, marks my mom and dad’s 59th wedding anniversary. For 59 years, Lura Jean and Ferd Park have loved and nurtured one another in the covenant of marriage. It is hard for me to comprehend the mathematics of their blessed 59-year union, but the calendar doesn’t lie. It is quite an achievement. I am proud of them. I love them. I thank God for their marriage. And yet, their anniversary also reminds me that life is very different for them than when they walked down the aisle of First United Methodist Church in Homestead, Pennsylvania 59 years ago. Could they have imagined back then that the “for better or worse…in sickness and in health” portion of their vows would demand of my mom that she become the primary caregiver for a husband with Alzheimer’s Disease? Probably not. But that is their reality today. They embrace that reality with dignity, tenderness, grace, and laughter, loving one another all the more through the ch-ch-changes (even the painful ones).

When I say that Mom and Dad are who I want to be when I grow up, I mean it.

Beyond parental changes, I am also confronted with the reality of vocational change. About 12 days ago, over a wonderful meal that began with hummus and ended with piping hot java, Bishop Tom Bickerton informed me that, effective January 1 of 2009, I will be the District Superintendent of the Washington District. (To quote Ziggy Stardust, “turn and face the strain, ch-ch-changes!!!”).

If you are a not a United Methodist (and, perhaps, even if you are), you may have no interest whatsoever in who or what a district superintendent is. More sympathetic I could not be. In fact, even the response of some of my colleagues in ministry to the news of my new appointment has been revelatory. Many have responded with a whispered word of “congratulations,” spoken with a dubious tone that implied the presence of a question mark.

“Congratulations?”—which, of course, can be translated this way: “Uh, I want to celebrate this affirmation of your ministry, but, given the nature of the district superintendency, I’m not sure that ‘congratulations’ is the right thing to say.’

Such a tone, I suppose, bears witness to the postmodern skepticism of the institutionalism that many believe the district superintendency represents. In the eyes of many, the district superintendents are little more than denominational bureaucrats who tow the party line, cater to the whims of the bishop, put out ecclesiastical fires on occasion, and show up for the yearly administrative dinosaur known as the church conference. Oh yeah, and they are also the backroom negotiators who shuffle around the pastors in that inscrutable segment of United Methodist polity called the appointment system.

Does that about cover it?

Personally, I am currently praying my way into an understanding of the district superintendency that moves beyond the sinking sand of cynicism to a more Christ-honoring spirit of hope and vision. District superintendents, at their best, are instruments of Christocentric accountability who hold pastors gently but firmly accountable for their ministry but who also allow themselves to be held accountable by their pastors. At their best, they are leaders and facilitators of worship who dare to see worship as humankind’s only appropriate response to God’s majesty and who diligently create opportunities for their brothers and sisters on the district to connect with one another in the context of the communal adoration of God.

They are generators of outreach and mission who work with other visioners to create district-wide opportunities for hands-on ministry beyond the walls of the church building.

They are builders of redemptive relationships with their pastors and laity, who comfort the afflicted with gentle words, who afflict the comfortable with directive words, who listen quietly when no words are necessary, all the while cultivating the kind of attentiveness that honors the integrity of those they lead.

They are practitioners of the spiritual disciplines, who pray for their pastors and churches, who study the Word and meditate upon its revelation, who preach the Gospel with passion, who fast for discernment (in order to remind themselves that they are hungrier for God than they are for food), who worship as though their lives depended on it, and who commit themselves to holy conferencing (both with the churches on their district and the cabinet).

The bottom line, of course, is that I can’t afford to be cynical about the office that I have been called upon to occupy. And so, I choose hope and vision over cynicism. I’m just goofy enough to believe that the district superintendency has something important—even crucial—to offer to the ministry of the people called United Methodist. If I can be some small part of that offering, then to God be the glory.

My emotions concerning this new appointment are deeply mixed due, in large part, to the ongoing health crisis of my dear friend and mentor, La Mar Carlson. I have known La Mar since 1990. His pastoral ministry has been an inspiration to me since I was a seminarian. His intelligence has challenged me; his vision for the church has humbled me; and his love for Jesus has reminded me of what discipleship looks like when I’ve been tempted to forget. La Mar has provided stellar leadership as the Washington District Superintendent for the last four years. The fact that his current health will not permit him to continue in this ministry for which he is so abundantly gifted breaks my heart. I have cried over it more than once.

And yet, because I know that La Mar would settle for nothing less from me, I am approaching the district superintendency with a sense of excitement and wonder. I am profoundly honored to serve the church in this new way, especially since I am following a leader in La Mar who served with such noteworthy faithfulness and integrity.

The Washington District feels like home to me. Back in 1966, while my dad was serving as the pastor of West Washington United Methodist Church, I was born into the Washington District. Three months later, I experienced the baptismal water there. Back in 1992, as a returning seminarian, I was appointed to the Washington District (as the pastor of First United Methodist Church of McDonald, Pennsylvania). Back in 2004, after the elimination of the Pittsburgh East District, Central Highlands Church (my current appointment) was warmly welcomed and embraced as a new congregation to the Washington District.

I have grown to love the people of this district. I have grown to appreciate the wondrous accommodation of diversity that enables the Washington District to manifest the ministry of God’s kingdom from Greene County all the way to the airport corridor. I cannot help but see the exciting potential for ministry on the horizon, especially given the population growth that is currently taking place in many segments of the district. I am humbled, challenged, and meaningfully unsettled by the opportunity to become the superintendent of a district that has been so instrumental in my personal walk with Jesus Christ.

Please pray for me. Pray for my wife, Tara, who is as awestruck by this transition as I am. Pray for the dear souls at Central Highlands Church, who have been our family for the last seven years and from whose embrace it will be very painful for us to leave. Pray for La Mar and his remarkably attentive wife, Rachel, as they move into a new season of life and ministry. Pray for our Bishop and Cabinet as they ponder all of the critical decisions that are before them to make.

And, along the way, don’t forget to allow yourself to be completely undone by the holiness and hugeness of God amidst all of your ch-ch-ch-ch-changes.

I am currently reading an interesting book by Harvard professor Joseph L. Badaracco, Jr., entitled “Questions of Character: Illuminating the Heart of Leadership Through Literature.” Personally, I find many books on leadership to be far too punctilious and pedantic to be very helpful. This book, however, is different. Instead of preaching a particular style of leadership, the book simply invites the reader to explore various issues of leadership as they manifest themselves in portions of compelling literature. Badaracco, for example, uses Allen Gurganus’ “Blessed Assurance,” F. Scott Fitzgerald’s “The Love of the Last Tycoon,” and Robert Bolt’s “A Man for All Seasons” as a literary backdrop against which to examine topics such as the development of healthy role models, the sustenance of a governing passion, and the balance of principles and pragmatism.

My favorite chapter thus far is the chapter entitled “Can I Resist the Flow of Success?” In this chapter, Badaracco uses Louis Auchincloss’ novel “I Come as a Thief” as a lens through which to explore several faulty definitions of success that is all too often embraced in contemporary leadership. In case you haven’t read “I Come as a Thief,” the novel tells the disturbing story of Tony Lowder, a forty-something New York lawyer with a promising political career who self-destructs by committing a “brilliantly undetectable” crime and then confessing to it. His self-destruction puts his family in great danger, both physically and emotionally.

According to Badaracco, Tony Lowder is a literary everyman who falls prey to the seductive and destructive “flow of success,” which, in Badaracco’s estimation, is little more than a consuming illusion, perpetuated by aimless busyness, chronic role-playing, and a debilitating commitment to facades. For Badaracco, in other words, the “flow of success,” illuminated by the character of Tony Lowder, is little more than a downward spiral into sociopathy. As Badaracco puts it,

Tony is living the life of a wind-up toy, going through the motions of being a good father, a loving son, a good husband, a charming politician, and a resolute friend. He can say just the right things in just the right way, but he often doesn’t grasp what he is saying…Tony is chronically busy…his life resembles the vaudeville act in which a juggler has a large number of sticks standing upright on a stage and tries to keep a plate spinning on top of each…His calendar is filled with meetings, and there are usually urgent phone calls to return. Tony is also accomplishing a lot, and success brings its own elation…By staying in perpetual motion, he is able to substitute a stream of successes and satisfactions for the hard work of grappling with bigger questions about his life. (pages 125 and 126 of “Questions of Character”)

Does any of that sound familiar to those of you who are involved in ministry leadership?

As I read the chapter, I was personally convicted of just how enamored I am of the “flow of success” that Badaracco describes. How often am I content with “going through the motions” of ministry (a particularly pertinent question as I make ready to “cram” for tonight’s sermon), instead of making myself available to the deeper meaning of the ministry that I am both offering and receiving? How frequently do I devote more energy to appearing busy (like a juggler with many plates) than I devote to discerning the spiritual value of the things with which I am busying myself? How many times have I been more interested in keeping my calendar well-padded than I have been in my own spiritual growth and the spiritual growth of the people I serve? On how many occasions have I said the right things without really meaning them?

I am not beating myself up here. I am simply repenting of my tendency to view ministry and leadership as an egocentric “flow of success” instead of recognizing the urgency of humility, servanthood, and Christ-centeredness in all areas of my vocation. I don’t think that I am in danger of committing any “brilliantly undetectable” crime. But, too often, I fall into the trap of losing my focus on the things that matter most.

I am finding “Questions of Character” to be a helpful read. Badaracco, though not writing from a specifically Christian perspective, helps me, as a leader, to refocus on the presence of the One who calls and sustains me. That, for me, is the heart of leadership.