the mark driscoll controversy

Mark Driscoll’s recent decision to step down from leadership at Mars Hill Church triggered a feeding frenzy on the interweb. I have no connection with the people involved (except a friend and former Vineyard staff member who’s been quoted frequently in the press as one of Mark’s protestors!), so it’s not fair to comment based solely on press releases and bloggers. Pastoring—whether you’re the lead pastor or the elders—is difficult enough without me dogpiling on.

But of course we all have opinions, don’t we? I personally don’t subscribe to Mark’s reformed theological views (consider me a Wesleyan Spirit-filled egalitarian of sorts) or what’s been referred to as his “frat boy” speaking style or his alleged domineering—some would say bullying—leadership approach, but I have appreciated his passion for the Kingdom from afar.

I was admittedly surprised, though, by a leaked internal memo about the way finances were handled in respect to what was called the Mars Hill Global Fund. By all appearances, this was a designated fund for international missions outreach, but according to Warren Throckmorton’s obsessive reporting, only about 6% was actually going out to world missions concerns; the rest was simply filtered into the general fund. Earlier it was disclosed that Mars Hill paid a publicity firm a couple hundred thousand dollars to get his book on the New York Times bestseller list. Aggressive-marketing campaigns are not uncommon for pop authors but certainly ethically questionable for a church.

That’s not smart. John Wimber used to warn churchplanters that money and sexual impropriety can absolutely ensnare and bring down leaders and churches. Never touch the money and keep your office door open. Though the Global Fund memo seemingly didn’t come from Driscoll himself, the danger is that pastors can get so busy in traveling or promoting their latest book that they lose their eye on the flock. Or in Jim Collins language: when CEOs start showing up on talk shows, it’s all over for the organization.

Scott Sinek’s book, Leaders Eat Last: Why Some Teams Pull Together and Others Don’t, articulates the danger of creeping entitlement and how leaders can begin to feel arrogantly bulletproof in their decisions. In describing true leadership, he writes:

(Leaders) are often willing to sacrifice their own comfort for ours, even when they disagree with us. . . . Leaders are the ones who are willing to give up something of their own for us. Their time, their energy, their money, maybe even the food off their plate. When it matters, leaders choose to eat last. . . . The leaders of organizations who rise through the ranks not because they want it, but because the tribe keeps offering higher status out of gratitude for their willingness to sacrifice, are the true leaders worthy of our trust and loyalty. All leaders, even the good ones, can sometimes lose their way and become selfish and power hungry, however. . . . What makes a good leader is that they eschew the spotlight in favor of spending time and energy to do what they need to do to support and protect their people.

I’m not implying that Driscoll falls into any negative leadership category; again, I’m not close enough to any of the parties involved to know nor have any real responsibility to comment on Mars Hill polity and accountability. But when Forbes.com calls your church “the Enron of American Churches”, you have a p.r. problem of the first degree.

And one final thought: this has nothing to do with the size of churches. I’ve known very small ones with spiritually abusive leaders and a controlling culture with little transparency.

It simply has everything to do with leadership. Period.

the politics of power

Although politicians seem to be having a difficult time determining how to pull the U.S. out of its economic malaise, they’re having no problem creating a stimulus for comedy writers. Case in point: Take Congressman Andrew Weiner.

Please.

Apparently 51% of his own constituents think he should stay in office according to one poll. I don’t have a dog in that fight, but I can’t imagine why any voter would put their trust in someone carving out time to take pictures of their package in the House gym. Take morality out of the question: do you want someone that stupid in his or her judgment to represent your concerns? To quote Seth: Really?

This isn’t a left versus right issue. Apparently, lack of judgment plays well on both sides of the aisle. Do I really need to make a list? And this isn’t even a slam on politicians; in the halcyon days of Enron, executives threw outlandish Bacchanalian parties that rivaled the Romans, or least Hefner’s dynasty. Not to mention their execs flashing Enron-logo credit cards in Houston strip clubs, buying $500+ bottles of Cristal and traipsing off to the VIP rooms with strippers in tow. Too bad for shareholders and employees that lost all of their retirement savings in the freefall of Enron. The beat goes on: Rajaratnam, Madoff, Boesky, Milken, and on an on.

Sometimes the smartest guys in the room aren’t the smartest guys in the room.

Last month, Time magazine’s editor-at-large Nancy Gibbs nailed the cover story with her article, Sex. Lies. Arrogance. What Makes Powerful Men Act Like Pigs. The International Monetary Fund president Dominique Strauss-Kahn—and potential next president of France—was arrested after allegedly sexually assaulting a hotel maid in Manhattan. Apparently, there were past “indiscretions” that emerged as well. Gibbs writes:

“A study set to be published in Psychological Science found that the higher men—or women—rose in a business hierarchy, the more likely they were to consider committing adultery. With power comes both the opportunity and confidence . . . and with confidence comes a sense of sexual entitlement.”

I’ve already blogged about the dangers of entitlement in general, but let me touch on power. And it’s not just a problem for politicians, executives and celebrities—they’re simply in the crosshairs of the paparazzi.

People can abuse power in a non-profit organization or on a church board, around a dinner table or in a street gang. Or in a marriage. Face it: power is that mouth-watering addiction to being in charge. Power is abused when it slips into control. The greatest picture we have of power used correctly is God Himself: He created beings with free will who could choose to love and obey Him or not. Try to imagine the Chief of New York’s Finest standing by, with all his available firepower, while his son is nailed to a telephone pole in the Bronx by a petty street gang of thugs.

In Feinberg and Tarrant’s book Why Smart People do Dumb Things, they recount the story of Stew Leonard. Leonard was a smart entrepreneur in Connecticut who turned a family dairy business into a shopping theme park with a petting zoo and singing animatronic animals. Back in the day, Tom Peters, the author of the mega-seller In Search of Excellence, praised Stew for his business acumen and ethics, a model for excellence. Leonard had pictures of himself with movie stars and ex-presidents. Someone got suspicious when Leonard turned up at an airport with a suspicious amount of pocket cash—$75,000. The feds ended up raiding him and discovered a computer program in a hollowed out book that Stew had used to cheat the government out of hundreds of thousand of dollars. Arrogance—a spawn of power—answers to no one.

In the Old Testament, David understood the vanity of power. He had seen a bigger-than-life, impressive king—a head taller than his brothers—become arrogant and unresponsive to God. Saul was replaced by a shepherd boy with a slingshot. Later, David wrote in Psalm 20: Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the LORD our God.

Problem is: none of us is bulletproof.

Decades later, in the time of year “when kings go off to war”, David, the powerful king of Israel, didn’t. Instead he found himself voyeuristically watching a woman bathe. In an astonishing abuse of power, he had her brought to him and slept with her. He knew her husband Uriah was off fighting the King’s war. There was never any evidence Bathsheba wanted or enjoyed this. After all, how does one refuse a celebrated and powerful king, anointed by God? As a matter of fact, months later she sends a terse message to King David: I’m pregnant.

Eventually David has Uriah surreptitiously killed in battle…and Bathsheba mourns for her loss. David makes her his wife and all doesn’t end happily.

It was an abuse of power. And a generational mess.

Bathsheba was the wife who later gave birth to Solomon who would lead Israel into her glory days, but with a price. Though he humbly asks God for one thing—wisdom (and receives it supernaturally in spades)—he eventually gave in to the entitlement that power temptingly bequeaths, ends up chasing the gods of his many wives and not finishing well.

It’s taken right from the TMZ files of today.

So what’s to be learned for us commoners? Don’t kid yourself: you’re richer and more powerful than you think. You’re more-than-likely reading this on your own computer. And if you own a home and a car and get a cost-of-living increase each year, you’re among the wealthiest 15% in the entire world. If it’s two salaries and two cars, you’re in the top 5% on the blue planet.

You’re not bulletproof. Nor am I. There’s only one way into the Kingdom’s narrow door: humbly, bent over and admitting who you are to the One whom you aren’t: God. And consider the practice regularly; I’ve watched powerful preachers and people-of-God fall like lightning. They stumbled into the lie that they could handle power better than anyone else…and simply by that assessment abused it.

“To whom much is given (perhaps that’s all-inclusive to those of us who have receive His mercy), much is required.”

And get over yourself.
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pastoral confessions (number thirty-seven in a series…)

I started this flying back from speaking in Houston and then got bogged down with, uh, life. I think it’s time for some pastoral confessions. But I’m going to get to it through the side door of the confessional. Enter the booth with me.

Sometimes I think: I can’t believe I get to do this. By this, I mean be a pastor. Most weekends I get to stand up in front of thousands of people talk about how great Jesus is and why He deserves our unreserved allegiance. I mean, I’m just an ex-drummer from Kentucky. It rarely seizes to amazes me. Honestly.

And I’m not Pollyanna-ish. I don’t always see it that optimistically and it’s not always wonderful all of the time. One survey claims that over seventeen-hundred pastors leave the ministry every month. Ouch. But let’s get real: when I read Paul’s resume in 2 Corinthians 11, I’m reminded that it’s been a long time since I was beaten with rods or left adrift in a heaving ocean overnight (uh, like never). There is very little in America that causes radical discomfort for the Christian leader or, for that matter, the average believer.

But what I do wrestle with are two things. I talked about this at our last all-staff meeting. Once a month we gather the whole staff of over one-hundred people for a little envisioning, some cross-team information sharing, celebrate staff anniversaries, and a few updates. But I had been wrestling with a few of these thoughts.

During the Q&A time at a leadership training session in Florida a few weeks ago, someone asked me, “What do you think leaders should guard against or need to really watch out for?”

The obvious big ones are, of course, sex and money. It’s why we have stringent policies in place at the Vineyard. We’ve all seen too many people crash and burn. I don’t have any meetings with women where there are just two of us, not even in a crowded public place. And I do zero counseling with the opposite sex for a couple of reasons: I’m not a professional counselor and therefore pretty lame at it and second, I need to make sure nothing even suggests a psychosexual connection. As an aside, I think one-on-one counseling is a black hole for pastors; many of us pastors suffer from a messianic-complex and think we can fix anything.

We don’t allow two opposite gender staff members to be in a car, even if it’s just a ride to another building on our campus. Overly cautious? Not in my book. There are all sorts of moral and legal ramifications to be considered, and more importantly, we won’t risk a rumor of impropriety to be leveraged against the Kingdom. You just don’t mess around with that.

And, of course, pastors should never touch the money. Ever. A couple of weekends ago in the last celebration I auctioned off a joke Packers/Steelers t-shirt for the Healing Center. Someone yelled out “$100” and walked from the back row to the stage counting bills from his wallet. I laughed and said, “Stick it in one of the offering boxes. Don’t give it to me!” and threw him the t-shirt. Pastors should stay away from every penny and have their salaries set by boards not made up of their families. We have an independent audit done every year to ensure integrity. Paul covers it nicely in Ephesians: But among you there must not be even a hint of sexual immorality, or of any kind of impurity, or of greed, because these are improper for God’s holy people. (Ephesians 5:3). I’m not even allowed in the counting room.

But when I think about long-term ministry—that is, ministry over the long haul—there are two other danger zones that I think are more subtle and equally damaging: burnout and entitlement. There’s a burnout that comes from overwork and no margins. The danger with a margin-less lifestyle is when a crisis hits, there’s no emotional energy to deal with it.

But honestly, what I’ve observed pastors burning out over is often the monotony and, dare I say it, boredom of routine. The reality is that so much of our job is the same thing over and over. Big deal, you say—every job has monotonous routines. But I think most people going into ministry have an idealized view of it and most of us got into ministry because we wanted to see lives transformed, to make some kind of difference in our world. But instead, by year eight, it’s…

…setting up the same chairs for the same meetings every week.
…another weekend celebration to plan for—another worship set, another “life-changing” message, another cue-sheet for lighting, another weekend of volunteers not showing up…and knowing that it never ends.
…filing reports that have to be filed every week.
…entering data every week on the same spreadsheet.
…another parishioner upset about something (pick a number…).
…another meeting followed by another meeting followed by another meeting.
…or even in the messy world of people in terms of pastoral care or prayer, it’s another funeral and another wedding and another marriage blowing up and another person with impossibly screwed up finances…or whatever. It never seems to end. There are different faces, but the problems are basically the same and they’re endless. It’s not like being a carpenter and building something and seeing it finished; it seems you’re never done in the “people business”.

The reality is that any job has routine built into it, whether you’re a factory worker or a CEO. But the difference with ministry might be this: people entering it have very different expectations.

And here’s the dark side: because of routine, I think it’s easy for a slow drift toward entitlement…as in “I deserve this _______ (fill in the blank) because…”. Frankly, I think it’s where I see numbers of lead pastors slip into. And I think it’s dangerous.

You can almost hear a bit of this in Peter’s response to Jesus after Jesus totally blows their minds about money…
   
Jesus looked around and said to his disciples, “How hard it is for the rich to enter the kingdom of God!” The disciples were amazed at his words. But Jesus said again, “Children, how hard it is to enter the kingdom of God! It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God.” The disciples were even more amazed, and said to each other, “Who then can be saved?”

(The inference here is that prosperity was a sign of God’s blessing, according to Deuteronomy 28. So when Jesus said it was difficult for a rich man to step into the kingdom, this would have been as shocking as someone saying today, “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a Spirit-filled evangelical to enter the kingdom…”. No wonder the disciples responded in amazement.)

Jesus looked at them and said, “With man this is impossible, but not with God; all things are possible with God.”

Peter said to him, “We have left everything to follow you!”

(I wonder if Peter wanted to make sure that he was entitled to something because of his sacrifice, as in, “Jesus, that rich guy couldn’t cut it. But look what we’ve done. And you are looking, right?”)

“I tell you the truth,” Jesus replied, “no one who has left home or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields for me and the gospel will fail to receive a hundred times as much in this present age (homes, brothers, sisters, mothers, children and fields—and with them, persecutions) and in the age to come, eternal life. But many who are first will be last, and the last first.” (Mark 10:23–31)

Jesus responds with a reality check: in the New Community, you’ll have lots of “family” and lots of “places” that can take you in…and one other thing you can count on: persecution. This wasn’t a prosperity promise in the literal sense that we’ll each own hundreds of homes any more than we’ll all have hundreds of mothers in this “present age”. It’s life in the New Community that creates this new kind of prosperity. There’s a certain sense of: be careful what you consider ‘entitlement’…and He’s particularly speaking to those in “the ministry”.

One more thing regarding routine and entitlement. I go through dry seasons where it just seems I have this eight-foot wall with razor wire on top between God and me. But here’s what I’ve discovered.

There’s a whole lot to be said for simple faithfulness, for just putting one foot in front of the other. When I’m not sure I even feel like getting out of bed, it’s time to remind myself: this is not about me. It’s not about how I feel. It’s not about me getting recognition from God or anyone. It’s about faithfulness. It’s about perseverance. It’s about Jesus saying to His disciples during a tough point, “He who endures to the end will be saved.” If one has to endure, that implies there must be long, tough, dry times.

Maybe it’s even about us saying to Him at the end, “Uh, Jesus, when did we see you in prison? When did we see you hungry and we fed You? When did we see you naked and we clothed You?”—inferring that there are huge times in our lives when we have no “awareness” of God and we’re just bumbling along doing what we think is something we should be doing for Jesus and meeting Him without knowing it. And apparently, that’s okay. It’s not always goosebumps. We’ve got to get over that.

Here’s a favorite verse of mine that I quote regularly (which must say something about my state-of-mind!): Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. (Galatians 6:9)

So for all of us, not just pastors and leaders, remember: When you’re in your worst seasonal spiritual drought, simply put one foot in front of the other and don't look back. In my thirty-seven years of following Jesus, the rainy season eventually comes.
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