The sometimes pain of transition

So... a fair bit has been running through my mind recently about churches and handovers and transitions and such... there is not terribly much about handovers and transitions in scripture, so there isn’t really a easy to find example to follow of “how”. I think that has been the experience of a group of church planters and leaders that I know of – the dynamics and challenges of “transitioning” a church between leaders is a complex and uncharted area. Any degree of confidence in how to do it, is easily disassembled by real life challenges and intricacies of emotion, loyalty, assumptions and good intentions.

Why am I writing this? I have been exposed to some dynamics of transition recently, and have watched some dearly loved and humble people struggle. And it has made me think about some stuff.

The language of church is family. We talk of fathers, sons, mothers and daughters. We talk of raising up sons and daughters. We talk of fathering, mentoring, shepherding and servant-leadership. We talk of discipling, teaching, imparting, and sharing. We build a community around vulnerability, trust and caring. Volunteering and pitching in, building together, co-labouring and “standing alongside”.

So how come, when a leadership change happens, for whatever reason, we do not seem to continue those values? So many times I have been part of, and occasionally watched from afar, as a leader has stepped down, or out, and a new leader has come in. I guess this relates to where a leader does not actually head off into the distant sunset, but stays nearby to the community they once led, which has happened enough for it to be a reasonable prospect, and not just an anomaly. Personally I have been part of 6 leadership transitions, and seen a few more from varying distances, and at least 3 have happened where the departing leader has remained local to his old flock...

Almost without fail, the departing leader and his wife and children has been cut off from friends and family. What other friends does a leader have but within the community they have been part of building? Often, none or perhaps those friends might have been the leaders of other churches, usually far away. Not ideal for close friendships, at all. Even the local fellowship of pastors is gone now, there is a new pastor in town occupying the seat the old pastor used to occupy, and the loyalties are hazy – personal, or positional? All very confusing...

But not for the old pastor – there it is stark and desolate. And very black and white.

We say they are family – that is, until they leave and then, suddenly, they are not family. If they are leaving, for whatever reason, even for GOOD reason, then something fundamental changes and they are no longer family, no longer the hero with a heart for sacrifice and for the good of others...

The season of transition means that they are asked to “give space”. But, from the outside, it looks as if they are treated as a threat to the new leader, a danger to his young leadership, and are asked to distance themselves from their spiritual friends and family for an undetermined time. (It looks like this from the inside too, apparently)

Since when did a father suddenly become dangerous enough to ostracise? Since when did his heart for community, for fathering, caring and pastoring suddenly turn to “evil” so that he has to be kept away from friends and family? Since when? When does a father, on becoming a grandfather, get cut off from his family in case he steps on the new fathers toes? When does a partner, a co-labourer, suddenly become pariah?

I cannot grasp or understand the pain we cause to them in the name of “a Godly transition” but I can safely say it is an astonishing level of pain, a great hurt. And they are asked to carry this pain maturely and silently while the community they love – and that loves them – is refocused away from them, and many times prevented or “strongly encouraged” to move on and be “take hold of Gods new season” for the community. Which means not phoning your friends and popping round with dinner or for coffee or such...

I can imagine, perhaps, Paul writing to such a community... apologies for the  “It is reported to me that there are some among you who have shunned your fathers, forced them out of fellowship and left them along in a world of wolves, so that you can tend to your own comfort! How can this be?”

Indeed. How can this be?

It is not good enough to only embrace a man as father when he is far away. Close enough to be given a guest spot in the pulpit when he visits but far enough away not to cause ripples. Where honouring him for the founding work he did can be genuine but also hollow because it can just be words.

A father close at hand is a blessing, a gift from God and a privilege. It can be the great joy of a fathers heart to see the community he founded go on to greater things and rise to new heights. Why do we celebrate this with biological families but recoil in fear in the case of spiritual families?

Maybe because when a "son in the house" becomes the "father in the house" it is as natural as breathing, as inevitable as sunrise and sunset. But when a leader comes in from outside it is like a CEO coming in and sweeping clean to make his mark...

 

Which is biblical? The father or the CEO?  

 

Just thinking...

Who is the victim?

I am a South African. But I no longer live in South Africa. I did so until 2006, when I left to work in the Middle East. I grew up in apartheid SA, for a long time knowing only what I was told. But that is another story for another day. Then I became aware of the horrific reality of apartheid, and changed fundamentally who I was and how I viewed the world... also, another story for another day. I spent 20 years after that working against apartheid, not as a political activist, but as a Christian, devoted to dignity and love.

Now, many years on, on various social networks, I have friends who live in SA, and who do not live in SA. And the wars that rage on those social networks between the two factions are deeply disturbing. There are those who have left SA, who are embittered and enraged at the past and can do nothing but pour scorn and “Thank *** we left” over every discussion. They often generalise and swear violently – even some of the ladies! There are those who remain, who are self confessed prisoners inside their own fear, unable to leave for whatever reason, but deeply wishing they could. They don’t comment much.

There are those who have stayed voluntarily, believing that somehow they can make a difference to the tide of anarchy that sweeps the land, through either an economic contribution, a tireless effort for children or the poor or whatever (these are the heroes). And then there are those who stay because they are South African, and by Hell or High Water, nobody is pushing them out of the land of their birth.

Everybody has strong opinions, as South Africans do, and everybody believes they are right. Some have experienced horrific crime, the rape and murder of loved ones, senseless violence at the hands of muggers and road rage etc. To those my heart goes out and I would never question their decision to stay or go. Grace to you as you build and rebuild your lives... may healing come.

Some others though, interest me. Usually it is the “Nobody is pushing me out” clan, whose comments sometimes confuse me. Without fail, in my experience, they are of the “eye for an eye” brigade, believing in violence to combat violence. They own weapons, usually many of them, and they teach their children to shoot accurately and decisively. Crime is an ever-present reality, and their Plan of Action is simple... to quote a colourful character from the accused box in my days as a State Prosecutor – Nay, my Worship, it was self defense - I just hit him back first.”

It is this willing embrace of anticipatory retribution that makes me ask, who exactly are the victims here? Is it the unfortunate burglar, or would be burglar, who comes up face to face with the steady aim of a 12 year old holding his very own 9mm Glock with a barrel inscribed with the words “Smile.. wait for the flash”... or is it maybe the little 12 year old, readied by his parents through countless drills at the shooting range, for the act of murder - yes, in self defence, but murder nonetheless - in an attempt to make him and his family “not a victim”.

He may not be a victim of an act of crime... but I would suggest he might a victim nonetheless.

Let me re-iterate, I left to work in the Middle East, and when I left the Middle East after the GFC of November 2008, I settled outside of SA because my wife and children are not SA citizens. I did not leave because of crime, although I had been hijacked 4 times, been shot at a few more times, and as a State Prosecutor had seen the worst of the worst of SA society, mostly being convicted, sadly sometimes not...

Where I live now, I am blessed and grateful for a society where a woman can safely walk home from work at night, where a child can ride a bike home from school safely. Where guns are owned, yes, but for hunting, and are used extremely rarely in crime. Where policemen do not carry weapons, and their lives are not at risk. In this society, which is the NORM, not the exception, I do not have to run red lights at night to avoid hijacking, or as a woman, drive with my purse out of sight because my car window might be smashed. Did I leave SA because of violence and crime? NO. But can I see the benefits for a family and a child, of being in a society not warped by crime and violence, where the capacity to kill another human being is not regarded as an asset?

Yes I can. The difference between a society ruled and dominated by post traumatic stress, and one governed largely by civil obedience is absolutely huge. They are incomparable. Scary thing was, I used to think SA society was normal. It is not. In truth it is sick to the core. But I love the beauty of the land and its people, by far the majority of whom are gentle, peace loving people, betrayed by a government more interested in lining its own pockets and staying in power, than in actually dealing with societies many real issues.

And I love and appreciate the people who choose to stay there to bring life to its potential.

Just thinking though... who are the actual victims of crime, and of a society that is numbed to violence and barbarism – only those directly experiencing a criminal act? Or maybe also those who decide to survive/defeat/conquer/overcome the dangers of living in SA and choose to “not become a victim” by learning to kill in self defence –and teaching their children to do it?

I don’t know what is right – everybody must decide for themselves, but I do think the question deserves an honest answer.

Christ, our Power and Wisdom.

In a season of change, and a season of many people and organisations looking for direction, economically, socially and spiritually, it is interesting to read 1 Corinthians. Change is interesting enough that many books have been written on it, and many people make a great deal of money facilitating it and leading it, and yet Paul seems to be relatively unimpressed with the huge dynamics of the Church in Corinth, preferring to focus their attention on something different.

Corinth is often discussed as the trading town; the confluence of culture and a melting pot of religions and languages, cultures and creeds, and it is often in this context that Corinthians is taught.

It is interesting, that Paul speaks emphatically against looking at “where we have come from” and speaks directly to “where we are going to”. He ignores the complexities of the cultural melting pot – the bread and butter of the modern change agent – and settles on one dynamic only. And yet few would deny that at the very least, Paul is a monumental change agent. His legacy in Christ stands above all other apostolic figures of his time, his influence profound over more than 1900 years of church history.

So what does this monumental change agent focus on? Christ, and Christ alone. He does not seek mutual understanding and cultural sensitivity. He does not embrace “knowing me, knowing you” principles of integration. He merely says “Know Him”.

He rips into people holding up an earthly teacher as a rallying point, himself included. Compare this to today, where a leader’s influence on the worldwide stage is defined largely by how MUCH of the spotlight he/she can enjoy.

He rips into people demanding signs and people seeking wisdom. “For the Jews request a sign, and the Greeks seek after wisdom” (v22) Instead of pointing to the many signs that exist, the miracles both Jesus and he have performed; instead of repeating the wonderful exegesis of Romans; he simply says “Christ, the power of God and the wisdom of God” (v24b).

This generation seems to demands signs, and the previous generation demanded wisdom. This generation and the next may well focus again on cultural sensitivity, as the global village gets smaller and smaller and borders disappear under a tsunami of email and internet communities, and cheap airfares, where getting the latest preacher or motivational speaker on the latest fad to rock up and wow the crowd is as easy as a phone call.

And Paul says simply, in response to all the apparent complexity facing a spiritual community in huge transition – “Christ, and him crucified”.

He is your wisdom. He is your power. He is His own sign. He has become for us wisdom, and righteousness, and sanctification and redemption.

In the face of every temptation to lead through change, to show the way and be the facilitator of a new age, to be wise and have meaning and value in this age, maybe we should simply say “Christ, and Him crucified” And the glory can go to the One who did it all.

He who glories, let him glory in the Lord.

Quiet strength...

So last week I was sitting in a hospital, waiting to meet someone for a coffee. Into the waiting area came an aristocratic, graceful woman, perhaps, 35, it was hard to tell. She was wearing all black, casual jeans and a shirt, ready for the rainy day outside, and what stood out were the colourful earrings. She moved with a sense of privacy, of not seeing her surroundings in order to demand from the world around her that she also not be seen.

Looking beyond the first impression of her movement I began to notice her thinness, and most obviously, when she sat down and removed her hat, her shaven head. I watched long enough to see her shaking hands and her slow deliberate movements in case she dropped things, then I gave her her privacy, and turned away to watch the comings and goings of the Coffee Shop. But she never left my thoughts, this frail, quiet soul amidst the hustle and bustle. All around us were people doing their daily agendas, and while their pace was not extraordinary, it looked so next to hers.

I wondered about her world. She was alone, here it seemed. No companionship, at least that I could see - perhaps by choice, but also perhaps by necessity. I struggled to imagine choosing to be alone, if I were in the same position. In a hospital, it is easy to pray – there are so many reasons to do so all around. Here was a reason with a face. It was easy to imagine her living alone. Then I remembered the earrings.

She wore these awesome, red, yellow and green earrings. Long dangly ones, that against her outfit really stood out. I looked back at her, and remembered the aristocracy of her initial impression, and as I looked through the exterior, I saw my own preconceptions.

Here, I realised, was a lady staging a one person battle against a terrible situation – wearing these earrings as a statement that the colour of her life would not be consumed by the darkness of her disease. Travelling alone, because of the independence it brought. Coming for therapy alone, perhaps to keep separate her two worlds and give her friends the freedom to enjoy her company without being overwhelmed by her situation. (Apparently this is common, here). I watched her check her makeup, look around, and then I saw her sit up straight for a few seconds and quietly declare war on the day. Chemo and all, she was taking it to the mattresses.

What a hero.

To my Fathers

It has taken a while to get to this point, free from the daily grind and free to be able to step back and discern my own world with enough clarity to write.

In 2005 I married a beautiful lady and immediately emigrated to the Middle East, and after three years there, on to New Zealand, moving again to a second city in two years.

One of the most profound consequences of relocating between countries, as I have done twice over the past 5 years, is the shallowing out of spiritual relationships – most profoundly of all, the loss of intimacy with spiritual fathers.

I have spent the majority of my spiritual walk in the company of great men who it has been my privilege to know intimately, and to have walk alongside me as I have grown. In fact in many cases, it has been their companionship and counsel that has enabled me to choose growth over self-preservation, to mine for a vein of resilience and strength in times of hardship. Submitting to their counsel, bending my will to their advice and choosing a more mature path has been my “salvation” – often from the folly of my own immaturity. Without fail, the testimony of their guidance has been that they have already walked the path I am on, already scraped their knees and blistered their feet discovering what is wise and good, and the fruit is there to be seen in their own lives.

To my shame, I have not always followed their counsel, and have not always stewarded well the wisdom they showed me. There have been lessons learnt and then unlearnt, hardships revisited in times of weakness that have undone me and at times, sadly hurt my family alongside me.

At times though, as well, a spiritual father has betrayed himself, and through that betrayal, others, including myself, have at times been hurt. Although this is sad and deeply regretful, fatherhood is not only a call to invincible men – it is a call to ALL men – all who once were sons, and now must become fathers in order to establish Gods order in their own lives. Perfection is not required, in fact it would be counterproductive, I believe, to proper parenting. Rising above flaws and rising above the hurt and disappointment of the failings of others, is part of what makes us mature and strong. Only God is perfect, and only God is a perfect Father. We are required to be good fathers, not perfect fathers, and part of our mantle as good fathers, is demonstrating grace towards others’ flaws, and indeed towards ourselves when we fail.

The spiritual lesson is sometimes hard to grasp, but the lessons of biological fatherhood are impossible to ignore. Once I was a son, now I am a father, laying foundations in the heart of my own son. And my son, unable to comprehend his own foundations yet, will one day become a father to his own son, on the foundations I am laying down today.

Now I find myself far from these fathers of mine, and far from my own biological father, who although he came to know the Lord many years after I did, possesses a God-given wisdom and insight into my heart. Now it is up to me to “father” myself in a way, and to stand and be counted before God completely as an individual. I cannot take refuge in “the church” and all its collective doings and thinkings – as I write this we have yet to call another community our home. I cannot take refuge in the counsel of others – it is me alone before God, making choices and determining my path and the path of my family.

So, to my fathers in the faith, and to my own father, thank you for roads walked together, for the strength and the safety of relationships where admitting failure is OK, where humility and gentleness are prized over macho denial and posturing. Thank you for value based choices, for coaching and counselling and partnering. Thank you for leaving space to fail – and succeed – on my own, and for being there shouting encouragement and showing the way by example. Thank you for teaching me that we never walk alone. We are not built for it.