Mission and the Millennium Development Goals

The following piece is taken from my listserv, Toward2015, which can be joined through Listserv.Episcopalian.org

This is an attempt to respond to Tony Seel's question, "Would you like to comment on what it means for ECUSA to name the MDGs as our top mission priority? Personally, I thought that Jesus had given us our top mission priority in the Great Commission."

It is a question that requires much more time and thought that I have, but I will try my best.

For starters I want to say that the MDGs are generally a pretty good set of priorities when looking at the major challenges that face us in the world today. Most of them focus on areas that each of us, if we were to take them seriously, would be able to impact in some small way. For example, my wife and I have for a long time now sought to be as environmentally responsible as we can, because whatever we are doing to the environment we certainly aren't doing it a lot of good. I would encourage all Christians to try to see how the goals might help shape their own life and lifestyle as citizens of God's Kingdom.

Yet however valuable the MDGs might be they are not the Gospel of Jesus Christ, although taking them seriously might be part of our response as those transformed by the Gospel of Jesus Christ. One of the things that I have noticed time without number is that we have this fabulous ability of putting the cart before the horse -- which is what the Episcopal Church is doing on this issue, I think.

If you look back over the last several decades of the church's life each General Convention gets hot under the collar about something new and we play with that until the next Convention comes along, then drop it and go onto something new. In 1988, for example, it was the challenge of urban America, in 2000 we got anxious about evangelism and monkeyed with the whole 20/20 notion of doubling the church before 2020, then in 2003 it was sex, and now in 2006 in an attempt to take our minds off sex we are into the MDGs.

The truth is that the denomination functions a little like my 18-month-old granddaughter who has an attention span of about 45 seconds when it comes to toys, books, television programs, etc. The result is that the Episcopal Church seems to be on a permanent search for the illusive silver bullet rather than getting on with the serious business of being the People of God in a fallen world.

The rub is in the last sentence I wrote because the reality is that the tendency in most of the mainline traditions today is not to be sure that there is such a thing as a fallen world. This is where the theological rubber hits the road. If our understanding of the nature of God and the nature of God's creation is inadequate, then so will our response be. Certainly in the thirty years I have been a priest of this church few of the voices within the denominational structures have had what I would describe as a full-blooded Anglican theology shaped by commitment to the substance of Scripture and the values of the church catholic. The wind was sown and now we are reaping the whirlwind.

The truth is that what we believe is going to shape the ministry that we and the church have. During the last few days, in preparation for what we are going to be doing in our parish from Advent to Easter, I have been giving John Stott's The Cross of Christ a more careful reading than I have given it in the past. Both directly and indirectly John makes the point that what we believe about the Cross is going to give structure to how we minister within a needy world.

A huge proportion of the Episcopal Church, including many who claim renewal or biblical credentials, for my money do not take the Cross seriously enough as satisfaction for our sins -- partly because we do not believe that sin is as ghastly as it actually is. We do not take sin seriously enough because we do not have a clear enough grasp of the holiness of God and how impossibly wide is the gulf that needs to be bridged -- and is the reason for the death of Jesus, the God-Man.

I have in that last paragraph probably raised a huge number of hackles because if there is anything over which Episcopalians wriggle and feel uncomfortable it is that the Second Person of the Trinity voluntarily sacrificed himself, becoming sin that I might be freed from the bondage of sin (Galatians 3:10-14). This great and wonderful truth is considered offensive, and there have been occasions in the past when I have literally been shouted down asserting such a "primitive" notion although it is rooted and grounded in God's revelation.

Yet, primitive or otherwise, this notion is behind a wholehearted willingness to take into all the world the Good News of what Christ has done on our behalf. It is because Christ died as he did that we believe that no one comes to the Father except through him. That is a profound message and is one of the driving forces behind obedience to the Great Commission as presented in Matthew 28 and Acts 1. Jesus called us to be witnesses, and by every word and action we show forth whether or not the Cross is important to us, and what we believe about the Cross.

Now, it is because I am a person of the Cross that love for my fellow humans should be shown in the things that I do, like helping to promote universal primary education, helping to feed the hungry and ease the lot of the excessively poor, working to eradicate diseases like AIDS and malaria, and so forth. My wife and I actually in our own small way give time, treasure, or talent to all these areas, but we do it (and have done it for a long time) not because the Episcopal Church thinks it a great idea, or merely because all humans are made in God's image and should be honored and respected as such, but because the Son died for them and we want them to meet him just as we have.

In ECUSA it is my observation that there seems to be little real desire for those who are in need (physical, emotional, or spiritual) to meet Christ and have their lives transformed by him. Until I was excluded from life in the wider denomination in the latter part of 2001 I had been involved in National Church life in one way or another for a quarter century. I have to say that although in that time I met many wonderful people, few in those circles were comfortable with a forthright affirmation that Jesus Christ is Lord. Far be it from me to make judgments about their relationship with the Lord, but those relationship seldom bubbled over with the evangelistic enthusiasm that I have always discovered comes from finding out exactly who Jesus is and what he has done for me (and you).

When I served on the 20/20 Task Force there was often hovering in the background this notion that if we could find some technique or mechanism to enable evangelism to take place other than a forthright proclamation of the richness of the Gospel, then we would heartily embrace it. That inadequacy was there in the report that we produced, although its theology was richer than that. I suspect it was the richness of the theology and the audacity of the vision which means it has virtually disappeared from the agenda of the Episcopal Church as we have gone shooting off and redefined what it means to be male and female, and now fallen into the arms of the MDGs.

Quite honestly, regardless of which Anglican jurisdiction you happen to belong to, I have come to the conclusion that connexional structures do little or nothing to enable mission in the red-blooded biblical sense of the word -- indeed, most of the time they are a hindrance. Frankly, I do not expect the Episcopal Church as a denominational entity to have much of a clue what the Great Commission is all about.

The place where the Great Commission hits the ground is in congregations. God didn't call us to be dioceses or denominations, but to be local fellowships of Christian people called together by the Lord to go out into our Jerusalems, our Judeas, our Samarias, and then onward to the ends of the earth, proclaiming by word and action the Good News that is recorded for our guidance and edification in Scripture. When it comes down to it the local church is the basic unit of mission.

I had hoped a few years ago that ECUSA might be giving itself a chance to at least change the climate in the church regarding mission and evangelism, but it has rejected that course and instead has bought into the values and priorities of a fallen culture, and is thereby missing the point. I suppose in some ways this makes it less a church than a mission field into which some of us have been sent to proclaim the Good News that the Jesus who is Lord died in our stead upon the Cross that we might witness to the fulness of life that is ours through his love.

The Future Means Mission, Mission, Mission, Mission

It is now nearly a month since we finally managed to elect a new bishop in Tennessee. The result is that for the first time in thirty-eight years of ministry I now look forward to being led pastorally by an ordinary who is younger than myself. Indeed, we go from having a bishop who is a great-grandfather to one who still has a kid in elementary school!

The other day I was in a business meeting with Bishop-Elect John Bauerschmidt, and laughingly he casually pointed out that at forty-seven and if the canons remain unchanged, he could be bishop for the next quarter century -- leaving office somewhere around 2030-2031. As one of the youngest potential members of the House of Bishops it is possible that he could have quite an impact on Anglicanism as it works out its future in North America.

This got me thinking about what things might look like if Dr. Bauerschmidt remains here, like his predecessor, until he reaches the maximum canonical age for retirement.

For starters, the world will be a very different kind of place, global warming or not. If present trends continue then the USA is likely to be the declining superpower while China could possibly be the rising superpower -- and with their huge populations, it is difficult to tell what sort of influence in human affairs China and India will wield.

And what will the Christian scene be like in China? Will their present growth in both numbers and influence mean that they will be in a position to shape the policies and strategies of their government and nation, or will they still be the harassed and sometimes persecuted body that they presently are? There are many Chinese Christians whose vision is to evangelize westward toward Jerusalem, and if this starts happening in some kind of significant way, what will it mean for relationships between China and the Islamic nations that sit in the Chinese Christian path?

By that time Islam will have changed as well? Whatever the state of Islam in its traditional heartland, it will certainly be an increasingly important player in Europe where the Muslim population continues to proliferate. I have seen statistics that suggest there will be more active Muslim worshipers in Britain by 2028 than there are Christians...

While all this is going on, what will be happening in North America, for these things are bound to influence the American churches? It is hard to say what the implications are, but the shallowness of much Christianity on this continent today does not auger well as the future comes to meet us. Whether we are talking the mainline churches and Roman Catholicism, or the conservative churches and evangelicalism, in too many quarters depth is strangely lacking. This suggests that as postmodernity and whatever comes after it charges ahead, there will be little in the way of a strong Judeo-Christian response to its self-centered, radically individualistic tendency toward destructive and unbridled hedonism.

Neither do Christian demographics look particularly encouraging for almost anyone, because as we move from older age groups to younger, a smaller and smaller proportion of each generation has any Christian involvement. In the Episcopal Church we might be worrying about the lack of youngsters, but quite a few others are not far behind us.

Which brings me back to the challenges facing the Bishop-Elect of Tennessee. The first, obviously, is to work out how to steer the diocese through the mess created by the actions of the last couple of General Conventions. Having stuck together more or less until now, we are beginning to see the first cracks. What is very clear is that the Diocese of Tennessee, as most other dioceses will not look anything like it does now by 2030-2031 if it still exists.

I suspect that during the next few years we will see just how unworkable in today's world geographical dioceses are. The future shape of dioceses is tied to fundamental questions that have yet to be answered about what exactly it means to be part of the Episcopal Church, whether the Episcopal Church is a constituent member of the Anglican Communion, and what the consequences at the grassroots all the way up the food chain will be if the Episcopal Church is not.

Besides, the Episcopal Church is going blithely on, totally ignoring the demographic realities that are rapidly catching up with it. It is an aging entity, and in many parts of the country seems incapable of adding new members by transfer, bringing in new converts to Christ, or where there are younger people increasing numbers by biological growth. Even without the defections that result from the actions of the General Conventions, this is a biggy that is being blatantly ignored despite statistics that scream out and plead for radical evangelistic and church growth action.

When I was on the 20/20 Task Force in 2000-2001, as we looked at the evidence in front of us it seemed that this attempt to create a mission-driven movement was the last great hope of the Episcopal Church of the USA. Our goal was to double the church by 2020. First, our proposals were pulled apart by the Executive Council, and then got lost beneath the sexuality agenda; right now ECUSA will be doing well if it has only shrunk in half by 2020. When the Episcopal Church effectively abandoned the 20/20 vision I realized even if it took a while, a huge question mark now hung over the future existence of this denomination.

I draw attention to this because if I was to be bishop of a diocese for the next twenty-five years in the midst of the present storm, I would concentrate every resource I had on mission, mission, mission -- and not and endless succession of social action projects, but working in every way to equip lay Christians to share their faith, to raise up young leaders who will work to guarantee a tomorrow, and to develop congregations with spiritual depth and theological integrity. If we did that the other stuff would follow.

Quite frankly, this is the only way any of us have any future. We can play church games but they don't bring people to faith in Christ and help them grow as pilgrims on the Christian way. Given what he is about to have thrust upon his plate, I do not envy our bishop-elect, although I pray for him every day. One thing I do envy, however, is that he has a quarter century in which he can make a difference for Jesus Christ, and a by-product of that will be the building up of a mission-driven and very different kind of diocese than the one he has inherited. If he does not do this, then he could have the sad task of being the one who puts the lights out.

Paranoia and Straws in the Wind

My whole Christian experience has been within the Anglican expression of evangelical conviction. Very early on I discovered that there is a paranoid streak among most flavors of evangelical, and I plead guilty for sometimes living into this characteristic that is often displayed by biblical Christians.

Sometimes, however, there has been good reason for evangelical paranoia, but often opposition has been either imagined or exaggerated. Meanwhile, it is not beyond the ability of evangelicals, like so many other orthodox Christians, to set themselves up for exclusion, harrassment, or worse, by their own inappropriate behaviors or attitudes.

Over the years I have increasingly been in the habit when I sense the urge to paranoia welling up within me, to try to get to the bottom of what is happening internally before blaming others for the problems I might be facing, or the difficulties into which I have fallen. When I do this I find that what might be happening to me has little to do with my affirmation of faith, and much more to do with the way in which I have handled myself. I sometimes think we like to believe we are being persecuted when in reality we are getting the just desserts for our own stupidity, bad manners, or the like.

Yet during the last several years there have been straws in the wind that unpleasant things are being done to orthodox believers that go beyond their own pugnaciousness or folly. There have been two in the last couple of days that point to the deepening reality that Christian orthodoxy is now so much on the outs in our secular culture and in the secularized churches that it is being seen as a threat to the postmodern world being born.

Now I know that it is not appropriate to argue from the specific to the general, but in many respects there seems to be a pattern developing. I suspect the two items to which I am about to draw attention are but the forerunners of many more, for our culture, as it drifts further from its Judeo-Christian moorings, is finding itself increasingly irritated by many of the stances and values of the revealed faith upon which Christian orthodoxy stands.

I became aware of the first of these at 5.00 a.m. yesterday (Sunday) morning when the clock radio clicked on and I lay there in the dark listening to a summary of the news. The last item of the bulletin drew attention to the plight of several Christian Unions in British universities.

The Christian Unions are hardly extremist organizations and have been part of the British university scene for generations. The UCCF is their umbrella organization, and they have incubated many lay and ordained Christian leaders, tons of them Anglicans. Both my wife and I came up through what was then known as the InterVarsity Fellowship, which was the setting in which we learned to think and live like Christians (http://www.uccf.org.uk) .

However, at Exeter, Edinburgh, Heriot-Watt, and Birmingham (where my daughter happens to be on the staff), the CUs have experienced various kinds of ostracism. In Edinburgh they have ceased to be a recognized organization of the university because they had the audacity to sponsor an event that promoted the traditional and biblical understanding of marriage and personal relationships, while in Exeter they have been banned from university facilities and had their Student Union bank account frozen.

Behind these attacks is an aggressive political correctness that in the name of tolerance refuses to tolerate what it believes to be the intolerant attitudes of these young Christians -- especially regarding human sexuality. "The 150-strong Christian Union in Birmingham was suspended this year after refusing to alter its constitution to allow non-Christians to address meetings and to amend its literature to include references to gays, lesbians, bisexuals and those of transgender sexuality." (http://www.christiantoday.com/article/christian.union.under.threat.students.prepare.for.legal.action/8379.htm). I find it hard to believe that the Trotsky or Islam Societies would themselves do what is expected of the CU.

While it is entirely likely that some of these Christian undergraduates in their youthful zeal for the Lord have become perhaps a little too strident, such a draconian response to their convictions, ideas that were the mainstream a couple of generations ago, has been harsh and a denial of their right of free speech, free assembly, and free expression.

It seems that if the secularizers had their own way they would drive orthodox believers to the very periphery of society, stripping them of their rights and privileges as citizens of a democracy, rights and privileges that find their roots in the very faith that they are marginalizing. Could it be that orthodox Christians will soon be considered as dangerous as Islamic extremists who fulminate violent acts of terror?

The other straw in the wind is much closer to home and comes in the form of a letter sent by Presiding Bishop Katharine Jefferts Schori to Bishop John-David Schofield of the Diocese of San Joaquin. This letter has all the delicacy and finesse of a velvet fist in an iron glove, with Schori, in effect, accusing Bishop Schofield of abandoning his ordination vows to defend the "doctrine, discipline, and worship of the Episcopal Church."

Here is a diocesan bishop, faithful to the rich mainstream of Anglican Christianity, and who is seeking to defend his diocese in the midst of the maelstrom which was unleashed upon the Episcopal Church by the actions of the 2003 General Convention, being threatened by a woman whose every pronouncement suggests she would theological be more comfortable in some variety of unitarianism. I recently broke bread with a colleague who is well to the left of myself, and he was shaking his head in disbelief over the lady's opening gambits.

Schori threatens Schofield with litigation, says that the people of his diocese will suffer, and suggests that the time has come for Schofield "to renounce your orders in this Church and seek a home elsewhere." What audacious arrogance! Katharine Schori does not seem to realize is that Bishop Schofield is actually being faithful to the vows he made when ordained to the priesthood, for like me he affirmed that he would “with all faithful diligence… banish and drive away all erroneous and strange doctrines contrary to God’s word.”

In the era Schofield and I were ordained, the 1979 Book of Common Prayer had yet to be dreamed up. He was ordained using the American 1928 Book and I was ordained using the English 1662 Prayer Book, each of which has some pretty far-reaching vows that priests are called upon to make to defend the church from error. Now error is, for the moment, ensconced in the heart of the church, and is is persecuting those who are faithful to revealed Christianity and the core of historic Anglicanism, so we are being utterly obedient to our vows by countering it.

This error that is imbedded in the church shares a lot with the aggressive secularism that is forcing orthodox believers to the peripheries of society, and might enjoy stripping us of many of our civil rights. There is little generosity and no grace in secularism's vision, and the same can be said for the vision of the faith held by the woman who the House of Bishop misguidedly elected at Presiding Bishop.

What should our response be? It certainly should not be to play the victim card, although I suspect that the politically correct, many of whom glory in their own 'victimhood,' would not allow us to do so. Nor should it be to return kind with kind -- besides, most of us have little power to do such a thing.

It is my conviction that we are being asked to stand at the foot of the Cross, being constant in our preaching and living, "in season and out of season" (2 Timothy 4:2). We are called to honor the Savior, and as we do so, in his own good time, he will honor us. This is only what Bonhoeffer would have described as the cost of discipleship.

To say that we stand beside the suffering church that has been and is being persecuted all around the world is to trivialize what our sisters and brothers are going through in Saudi Arabia, Iran, China, North Korea, and elsewhere. On the scale of their sufferings, we do not yet know what suffering and persecution is. However, could it be that the first steps have been taken down a path which will lead in this direction?

One Night With The King -- A Movie Review

"One Night With The King" -- Movie Review

A little while ago I wrote in my online Daily Devotions, while we were looking at the book of Esther, that this book would make a great movie. I had no idea that such a movie had been made and was soon to be released, something which one of the users of the devotions immediately told me.

Now in the theatres we went to see it a few days ago. I wish I could rave about the film and tell you that it is a must-see, but I cannot. There are bits and pieces of it that I appreciated, but in many respects it felt like a poor remake of an aging religious blockbuster like "The Ten Commandments" or "Ben-Hur."

Set in Susa, the capital of the Persian Empire, which is a place on the western edge of modern-day Iran, the city that the moviemakers conjured up using contemporary computer magic, was dominated by a palace that looked more like a merger between New York's Plaza Hotel and Niagara Falls! How much more meaningful it would have been if they could have put together something that was more period appropriate. The setting was more a tribute to the film-makers determination to exaggerate than to represent the beautiful story that tells itself so well in the Old Testament in the right scale.

The set from the very start had me on my guard: if they would take liberties with the environment of the story, then what was to prevent them taking liberties with the story itself?
In some ways they followed the basic drift of the book of Esther, but in other ways they embroidered in a manner that left me feeling antsy. For example, Esther is given a necklace that sparkles in a particular way to show us that she is of true Jewish heritage. Then one of her young male chums is hauled away and made a eunuch in the palace so that later he becomes a convenient go-between. Little touches like this might seem cute to a Hollywooder, but don't do a lot for someone who believes this is an extraordinary story that does not need such props in order to make its impact.

I imagine Esther to have been an extraordinary woman -- intelligent, charming, characterful. What we got instead was a delightful Esther, but one who would have been better cast as a member of the Susa High School cheerleading squad. Joyfully played by Tiffany Dupont, we got a more of a frothy (and sometimes thoughtful) middle American woman than the person of courage, depth, and integrity, who was prepared to put her all on the line in order to save her people from the wrath that Haman the Agagite was stirring up against them. I want to give Ms Dupont the benefit of the doubt and say that she didn't have much of a script to work with.

The story of Esther in the Bible is exquisite, one of the greatest tales of human literature as well as Holy Writ, but although it was not Disney that was behind this movie, there was a Disnification that softened the edges and missed the subtleties. (It is, in fact, distributed by 20th Century Fox). Perhaps it is dangerous when someone who has tried for much of his life to be a faithful Bible student to go to a representation of Scripture in a medium that works best when it trivializes.

Having said these unkind things about the movie, however, let me say some nice things, too. Although there is a lot of embroidery and some dumbing-down, "One Night with the King" does not stray too far from the original storyline. We get a watered down touch of the flavor of what Esther is about even if in the process we are robbed of the deeper dimensions.

For my money the star of the film was John Rhys-Davies, the Welsh actor who played Gimli in "The Lord of the Rings" and in this movie plays Mordecai, Esther's uncle and Haman's nemesis. Rhys-Davies captures the character who is there on the pages of Scripture perfectly. While I have already forgotten the Ahasuerus, the Esther, and the Haman, from the movie, as I scanned the Book of Esther this afternoon I was seeing in my mind's eye the face of Rhys-Davies's Mordecai, hearing his voice, and catching the twinkle in his eye.

I hope that now Esther has been presented in this rather inadequate way on the big screen someone else will pick the book up and do a far better job with it. It is a piece of biblical writing for times like these, when faithful people find their backs increasingly against the wall both in the wider culture and often, as for those of us who are Episcopalians, in the churches. It is a paeon of praise to the courage of ordinary people who are put in extraordinary positions at times when more than their own safety hangs in the balance.

Read the book... But if you do go and see the film, take a pinch or two of salt with you.

Sometimes The Runner Stumbles

During the last few days I have been enjoying Thomas Cahill's recent book, Mysteries of the Middle Ages, toward the end of which he focuses on Dante Alighieri and his most seminal of all poetry, The Divine Comedy. This poem begins with some of the most famous words in literature:

Midway upon the journey of our life
I found myself within a forest dark,
For the straightforward pathway had been lost.
Ah me! how hard a thing it is to say
What was this forest savage, rough, and stern,
Which in the very thought renews the fear.

So last night while driving home from a long Sunday I found myself comparing and contrasting the experience of Dante with that of Ted Haggard, one of the latest who midway through life's journey has found himself lost within that dark, dark forest. I ache for him to the point of tears, and for his whole family.

Until the last few days I knew little about Ted Haggard, except that he was President of the National Association of Evangelicals, pastored a big congregation in Colorado Springs, and had launched a significant prayer ministry. Now his dirtiest linen is being paraded for literally the whole world to see.

We might never know precisely what transpired between Haggard and his accuser, Mike Jones, and I have little curiosity to find out. Part of the tragedy is that everyone is involved when the sins and stumbling of a Christian leader are revealed in this kind of way. There are those who crow and point fingers, often stirred up by the feeding frenzy of highly inappropriate self-righteousness about the fallen one that comes with the revelation of yet another 'juicy' morsel.

The tragedy is that when someone with the profile of Haggard fails the Gospel is tarnished and the whole church, regardless of denomination and tradition, is hurt. The world shrugs and says, "Well, Catholics do it, Episcopalians do it, why should we expect Baptists, charismatics, or community church types to be any different," (if they are even aware of the panoply of names and titles beneath which we array ourselves). The next shrug to accompany their thoughts is about the veracity of the message we claim to live by.

I have no desire to castigate Ted Haggard. Virtually every one of us who has been called to Christian leadership is involved in a permanent wrestling match with their own dark side. Our problems may not be sex, drugs, or alcohol, but if we are honest we all battle inner demons that would delight to destroy us -- and the church. Most of us who have spent any time trying to live out this most demanding of vocations have dents in our fenders of which we are not proud, although we are thankful that in Christ we are forgiven, and by his grace we can be made whole.

Interestingly, few veteran pastors and Christian leaders are turning their fury against Haggard -- perhaps because they know their own fragility. Many of us watching the media circus probably whisper, "There but for the grace of God..."

All of us must recognize just how fragile we are, and that our lives are part of a spiritual battle being fought out in darkening times. We can expect both bad theology and ethical error to appear, sometimes in the lives of some of those who are seemingly the brightest and best. Isn't this the message Paul attempts to get across in the Pastoral Epistles?

I feel desperately sorry for Gayle Haggard. She began last week as the wife of a much respected pastor, and ended it with her life in tatters, probably discovering things about the man to whom she had been married that she either never imagined or tried not to repress. I pray there will be recovery but their life will never be the same again. As the Haggard family hunkers down to work their way through this avalanche that has buried their lives they need our support and prayers -- whatever it was that Ted Haggard did, or did not, do. This is what the grace of the Gospel is all about, and that same generosity should be extended to all pastors this day whose lives have come apart under the pressures of ministry.

It is clear something is amiss in Haggard's life and ministry, and we can only conjecture what it was. I suspect his undoubted success is less than helpful, together with the unquestioning devotion that often comes to pastors who have the richness of personality and ability that he clearly has. Accountability is vital for Christian leaders, something about which Prof. Ben Witherington has written in a telling manner: (http://benwitherington.blogspot.com/2006/11/looking-haggard-ted-steps-aside.html).

Witherington also writes also about the need to know ourselves, and especially the nature of our own Achilles' heels. Knowing our own fallenness and the damage it does to ourselves and those around us is an essential ingredient to spiritual and mental health as well as faithful ministry. In many ways peeling away the layers with which we try to protect ourselves from the darkness within is one of the most difficult and painful tasks for anyone entrusted by God and the church with leadership. Perversions of and diversions from the Gospel both individually and within the institution are likely to follow on from such failures.

The events of the last few days surrounding Haggard are a reminder to us above all us that if we are called to be healers in the name of Christ, then the wholeness we mediate can only take place when we are able to embrace our own brokenness -- and that in the power of the Cross. The Christian journey is a life spent allowing the balm of that Cross to penetrate ever more deeply into ever more corners of our life and being.

Sometimes The Runner Stumbles

During the last few days I have been enjoying Thomas Cahill's recent book, Mysteries of the Middle Ages, toward the end of which he focuses on Dante Alighieri and his most seminal of all poetry, The Divine Comedy. This poem begins with some of the most famous words in literature:

Midway upon the journey of our life I found myself within a forest dark, For the straightforward pathway had been lost. Ah me! how hard a thing it is to say What was this forest savage, rough, and stern, Which in the very thought renews the fear.

So last night while driving home from a long Sunday I found myself comparing and contrasting the experience of Dante with that of Ted Haggard, one of the latest who midway through life's journey has found himself lost within that dark, dark forest. I ache for him to the point of tears, and for his whole family.

Until the last few days I knew little about Ted Haggard, except that he was President of the National Association of Evangelicals, pastored a big congregation in Colorado Springs, and had launched a significant prayer ministry. Now his dirtiest linen is being paraded for literally the whole world to see.

We might never know precisely what transpired between Haggard and his accuser, Mike Jones, and I have little curiosity to find out. Part of the tragedy is that everyone is involved when the sins and stumbling of a Christian leader are revealed in this kind of way. There are those who crow and point fingers, often stirred up by the feeding frenzy of highly inappropriate self-righteousness about the fallen one that comes with the revelation of yet another 'juicy' morsel.

The tragedy is that when someone with the profile of Haggard fails the Gospel is tarnished and the whole church, regardless of denomination and tradition, is hurt. The world shrugs and says, "Well, Catholics do it, Episcopalians do it, why should we expect Baptists, charismatics, or community church types to be any different," (if they are even aware of the panoply of names and titles beneath which we array ourselves). The next shrug to accompany their thoughts is about the veracity of the message we claim to live by.

I have no desire to castigate Ted Haggard. Virtually every one of us who has been called to Christian leadership is involved in a permanent wrestling match with their own dark side. Our problems may not be sex, drugs, or alcohol, but if we are honest we all battle inner demons that would delight to destroy us -- and the church. Most of us who have spent any time trying to live out this most demanding of vocations have dents in our fenders of which we are not proud, although we are thankful that in Christ we are forgiven, and by his grace we can be made whole.

Interestingly, few veteran pastors and Christian leaders are turning their fury against Haggard -- perhaps because they know their own fragility. Many of us watching the media circus probably whisper, "There but for the grace of God..."

All of us must recognize just how fragile we are, and that our lives are part of a spiritual battle being fought out in darkening times. We can expect both bad theology and ethical error to appear, sometimes in the lives of some of those who are seemingly the brightest and best. Isn't this the message Paul attempts to get across in the Pastoral Epistles?

I feel desperately sorry for Gayle Haggard. She began last week as the wife of a much respected pastor, and ended it with her life in tatters, probably discovering things about the man to whom she had been married that she either never imagined or tried not to repress. I pray there will be recovery but their life will never be the same again. As the Haggard family hunkers down to work their way through this avalanche that has buried their lives they need our support and prayers -- whatever it was that Ted Haggard did, or did not, do. This is what the grace of the Gospel is all about, and that same generosity should be extended to all pastors this day whose lives have come apart under the pressures of ministry.

It is clear something is amiss in Haggard's life and ministry, and we can only conjecture what it was. I suspect his undoubted success is less than helpful, together with the unquestioning devotion that often comes to pastors who have the richness of personality and ability that he clearly has. Accountability is vital for Christian leaders, something about which Prof. Ben Witherington has written in a telling manner: (http://benwitherington.blogspot.com/2006/11/looking-haggard-ted-steps-aside.html).

Witherington also writes also about the need to know ourselves, and especially the nature of our own Achilles' heels. Knowing our own fallenness and the damage it does to ourselves and those around us is an essential ingredient to spiritual and mental health as well as faithful ministry. In many ways peeling away the layers with which we try to protect ourselves from the darkness within is one of the most difficult and painful tasks for anyone entrusted by God and the church with leadership. Perversions of and diversions from the Gospel both individually and within the institution are likely to follow on from such failures.

The events of the last few days surrounding Haggard are a reminder to us above all us that if we are called to be healers in the name of Christ, then the wholeness we mediate can only take place when we are able to embrace our own brokenness -- and that in the power of the Cross. The Christian journey is a life spent allowing the balm of that Cross to penetrate ever more deeply into ever more corners of our life and being.