We Exchange Life For Death
Lectionary Reading for Today:
We Exchange Life For Death
Our lectionary reading for today uncovers the less-than glamourous aspect of our faith. It uncovers the part of our faith that we too often try to hide or gloss over, especially when we’re telling other people about how great it is to be a Christian. This passage is where the trite comments and platitudes go to die. It is here that we cut to the heart of the things we are to ponder during Lent. This is where that cross of ashes on our forehead only a few days ago becomes far more than a mere symbol; it becomes the stark reminder of what it will cost to follow the Saviour.
The following is an excerpt from my recently released book, Quit Pastoring Your Church: The Story of a Small Church Making Jesus Their Pastor. It’s rooted in Jesus’ words from Mark. While this particular section of the book speaks directly to pastors, it applies to all of us in terms of what it means to die to find life.
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There are many potential roles a pastor takes on, both within the context of church and extending out into the community. As a start, the standard roles in which most pastors engage include: counsellor, prophet, gate-keeper, theology teacher, deliverer of religious goods and services (e.g., we marry, bury, and sign official documents), leader, consensus-builder, mediator, shepherd, encourager, evangelist, apostle, servant, administrator, and vision-caster. As a pastor of a church plant, you also perform janitorial duties, such as fixing toilets and emptying garbages, you lift heavy objects, and even wash toys. However, I would suggest that above all else, the pastor of a church functions as a public test-case. That while a pastor’s engagements may include all or some of those roles listed above, ultimately he or she functions as the most public demonstration of the redeeming work of Christ. I believe that the pastor and laity are equal in terms of value, but that the pastor is distinct in their personal exposure to public scrutiny and observation. In real terms, it means we get to show everyone how broken, full of doubt, and messed up we are. We get to stand at the front and be an example of how much humanity needs Jesus. Our public willingness to authentically show our need for Jesus’ presence in our life is a privilege, albeit a painful one. Oddly enough I have never seen that description listed in a pastoral job posting, but this new awareness became my base theology moving forward.
Give 1 Corinthians 4:9-13 a read.
When is the last time you heard this text read at an ordination or pastor’s induction service? It is not a passage that makes for good celebrations, balloons, cake, and after-service parties. And I cannot recall hearing any pastor mention this passage in his or her calling story.
As Paul describes himself, he suggests that in his role as pastor, he has been made a spectacle to provocatively illustrate the kingdom. Spectacle can be understood as theatre. Essentially, Paul claims that he is an actor on a stage for all to see. With his famous sarcasm he lambastes the Corinthians for misunderstanding the way to true life. The way is not through the means they assumed: glory, honour, and strength. Rather, the way to life is through death and utter dependency on Jesus. Paul accepted the role of being the most public demonstration of weakness and death-to-self so that those around him would not see him, but rather, the glory of the Saviour. Paul’s experiences evoke the reality of Jesus’ life: it is through weakness and death that life is found and demonstrated.
The Corinthians did not admire that Jesus was crucified on a Roman cross. From their perspective, a Saviour would not die that kind of dishonourable death. And the Corinthians did not think much of Paul as a guy who worked “with his hands.” High-profile honourable (i.e., celebrity) leaders then or now do not get their hands dirty. The Corinthians just did not get it.
One of my favourite professors in seminary, Dr. Michael Knowles, said it best: “Pastors ought to be a demonstration of the failure of the human project.” Pastors ought to demonstrate that we do not trade our life for Jesus’ life when we are saved. No, we exchange our life for Jesus’ death, and it is through that process that we find life.
Did you catch that? This is perhaps the most overlooked aspect of becoming a follower of Jesus. We exchange life for death to find life. This is not the glamourous call to salvation we too often try to sell. The mysterious life of salvation is one of death and life, over and over again.
Therefore as pastors, we become “the scum of the earth, the waste that runs off everything,” so that we might decrease and Jesus might increase. And no one does this more publicly in the church than the pastor. Our congregations ought to see us frequently processing our own death. We are a test-case for the impossibility of the human project; we prove that we cannot fix ourselves and we certainly cannot be the superstar that we sometimes so badly want to be. We have the privilege, and the unfortunate pleasure, of demonstrating that Christ in me is the only hope of glory. This is my role. I am, and must continually be, the most public demonstration in my church of someone who cannot live apart from Jesus. Certainly, every Christian ought to work from the same foundational belief, but not every Christian gets to have the whole church watch while it is happening. If you are reading this and wondering about becoming a pastor, this is the point where you think twice. I love my job. But there is a vulnerability I experience that is both exciting and terrifying. You cannot fake this job and live at peace. You cannot call people to transformation and God’s grace and mercy while not having a testimony of those things. You have to smoke what you are selling, or people will see right through you. More critically, they will not likely see Jesus.
It is worth noting that throughout Paul’s ministry, whenever he talks about his pastoral vocation, he does not usually talk about himself as a transmitter of God’s mercy and hope, but instead a recipient of God’s mercy and hope. Grace and mercy were not Paul’s to offer. There is something incredibly profound here. There is one mediator and his name is Jesus. What I see and have experienced in Jesus — what I hear and touch — is what I have received and can then share. In other words, I am a storyteller. I can point people to the one who the story is about. I can talk about how Jesus’ story has shaped mine and invite people into the same experience. As a pastor, regardless of the words I speak, people will watch me and see my story. My story will either demonstrate my own power(lessness), or it will demonstrate his.
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Quit Pastoring Your Church, excerpt from chapter 1, “The Wall” pages 45-49. For more information on the book visit: quitpastoringyourchurch.com
For further reading: Andrew Purves’ book, The Crucifixion of Ministry: Surrendering Our Ambitions to the Service of Christ.
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