Pt. 1 here.

Reality check.  I bought into something that very few will ever reach.  I told myself this is who I will be.  I was meant to be a megachurch pastor.  Problem.  There are about 400,000 churches in America and about 1300 megachurches.

.325 Remember that number.  That’s the percentage of churches in this country that are megachurches.  (Based on some rough numbers.  There’s probably a more accurate one somewhere.)  A conference leader frankly stated from the stage concerning megachurches, “This is ministry pornography.  Most of you will never have what you see.”  That statement rang true.

Do I want to reach as many people as possible?  YES!  But God has caged that pit bull of finding my worth in attendance numbers.  I fed that dog for a long time.  Having lunch with a senior pastor friend last week I observed his freedom from what I see now as idol chasing.  He just tunes out of all the hype and focuses on what’s in front of him.  I realized while hanging out with him that I’d been tossing my starving, caged pit bull pieces of meat.  No more.  I unsubscribed from some more blogs.  I made a decision that was hard.  I would rather have my head in the sand at some level to innovation in the church at large (my equivalent of a crack addiction) than feed that beast anymore.  God caged it for a reason.  Now I know.  I have to act.  Tomorrow I’ll share how my desires have been changing.

* WARNING *    (This series of posts may cause discomfort at the humanity of pastors.)

I dedicated my 20’s to one basic idea :  impact as many people as possible.  Take every opportunity.  I tried to grow, learn, and study everything I could get my hands on related to church leadership.  That sounds good, right?  Noble?  Truthfully it’s a little bit good and a whole lot sinister.

You see I experienced my 20’s in an era of church ministry that sold the idea to all young, zealous, eager and soon-to-be pastors that I could be a megachurch pastor.  That was the holy grail.  The money, the fame, the demand for your time/gifts, the powerful relationships and the life significance  (insert chest-beating and ape-like grunts here).

Now as I start this series understand I’m not saying that it’s wrong to be a megachurch pastor.  I know many are there because of God’s calling and have what I trust to be very pure hearts.  This series of posts is more about chronicling my journey that I’ve found represents a generation of pastors.  Thanks for listening in as I try to express what God is teaching me.  Tune in tomorrow.

Ok, so I know it’s a new week and I need a new series.  But I really wanted to talk about this one.  Especially because it will transition to the most vulnerable series I’ve ever posted.

Confession brings healing.  (See James in the New Testament)  Since that’s true could we say, “keeping it all in brings _________.  sickness?”  Here’s what I know.  The humility of confessing to those I hurt makes me more whole.  After  I’ve confessed how do I keep it from happening again?  Make yourself accountable.  I recently added another layer of accountability to my life.  Knowing I was going to have to give an answer to a close friend kept me pure.  Are you confessing?  Are you making yourself accountable?

2 pet peeves:

1.  When, making ourselves accountable for our actions, we make it all about fleeing sin rather than embracing the fullness of the life of God around us.

2.  When, in the name of confession, we air dirty laundry just to make ourselves feel better that actually unnecessarily weighs others down.  Pray for wisdom on this one.

I know people from different areas check out the thoughts around here.  I don’t want to exclude anyone so I’ve hesitated posting about this love I’ve developed.

I love where I live.  I love the country/city mix.  I love the climate  (yes Discovery Church even the winters).  (There’s been a nasty rumor going around that I may have had something to do with the end of winter near-blizzard we had.)

Last night after driving around in the cool of the evening (it was so cool yesterday you couldn’t enjoy a pool) we headed over to Easton.  We hadn’t planned on it but we let the kids play in the fountain.  Here’s what it looked like.

What you missed is our youngest turning around and saying “Don’t you like my booty?”   Who knows.  Gotta love the weekends!

The other day I was trying to pass a garbage truck and noticed a police car was coming.  I got up tight because I wasn’t sure what was or wasn’t legal.  I realized at that moment I really have a  fear of stepping out of line.  Some authority figure will swoop in and make me pay.  Is that what a relationship with God is like?  No.  Then I thought I’ve got to make sure my kids don’t get that from me.  I don’t want them to relate out of duty but love.  Hmmhh…

It feels like so much of my spiritual life is being rewired from a foundation of duty/obedience/striving to love/surrender/rest.  My image of God in my relationship to Him becomes less ready to “pounce” if I do wrong.  There may be consequences that God allows but the consequences don’t define the life relationship.  The counsel and comfort in the middle of consequences becomes the life of the relationship.

I like that word.  Get back up.  Keep going.  Tomorrow’s another day.  See, I had a rough meeting yesterday.  There was a fleshy appendage, you know, exhausting problem, that I was excited to cut off and begin the healing.  Instead I found out I can’t cut it off, yet.  I have to carry it around some more.

First reaction?  Anger, blame, pity.

Second thought?  The righteous man gets knocked down six but gets up seven or something like that.  There must be some reason I carry this longer.  More humility.  More dependence.  More time to prepare for the surgery so I can heal quicker.

Some things you need to quit.  It’s destructive.  You’ll never be good at it.  Don’t quit hoping.  Don’t quit surrendering to love.  Stay resilient.