Gratefully, Disillusioned

by Sarah Bessey on January 12, 2012

 

Dear Pastor, leader, dear teacher, dear friend:

Do you remember how I used to call you the “Man of God?” I grew up believing that you  were better than us because you spent hours and hours in study and prayer and reflection on The Things of God. You were my example in all things, the zenith of spirituality. I thought that you spoke for God and your answers were more important than my questions. I thought that pastors or leaders had to have their homes completely in order, be too holy for the rest of the stuff we all dealt with today. I revered your marriage and analyzed your parenting, holding you to impossible standards. Somehow, I thought – maybe because you taught me this, long ago, who remembers anymore? – that you were the Shepherd and I was the smelly, dumb, yet beloved sheep.

Then the years began to unfold and one by one by one, those ideas I had about you? All dismantled. At first it hurt. You can understand why that is, maybe, to someone like me, why it was hard on me when you tumbled off of the pedestal I lovingly kept propped up for so many years. I’m pretty embarrassed that I cried as hard as I did, that I judged you as harshly as I did, for your tragic displays of our shared humanity, because weren’t you supposed to be better than me, better than us all?

At first, I was disillusioned.

Now? I’m grateful to be so.

My friend, I no longer expect you to have it all together, to maintain a facade of performance and perfectionism that will eventually cripple you, your family and your followers. It’s okay that you’re a person.

I no longer look for you to deliver the message from the mountaintop for me. I like to be there myself, with the wind and the Holy Spirit in my hair.  I’ve also found God in the deepest valleys, driest deserts, and do you remember? I found you there, too. Hail fellow, well met.

Church doesn’t mean sitting in a pew anymore, listening to you talk. It’s all of us, glory to God, a mismatched and gorgeous bride and something more besides, something holy in the living life together, the breaking of bread, pouring of wine, family, in the people of God gathered together then sent out.

It’s nice to be partners in this thing, now, isn’t it?

I no longer have expectations on you that I do not have on myself. We are all learning and growing, we are all travellers on a journey.

We are all engaged in holy work – the carpenter, the mama, the business person, the dad, the writer, the programmer – and we’re all anointed for our life, chosen. I value the work you do and I’m thankful for it. I’m just also glad for godly daycare providers, politicians, parents, labourers, advocates, missionaries, hockey players and homeless. We are all anointed, we are all called and every part of this body is vital.

I no longer look to you as my shepherd. What a relief to you, I imagine! No, I look to Jesus as my Shepherd.

And this is freedom.

For both of us, do you see?

It’s freedom for the disillusioned because now we get to enjoy the richness of relationship with the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit without any intermediary or filter. I get to follow Jesus, not you. I get to be part of community that is rich and full. This flattened hierarchy thing that freaks so many people out? It’s actually pretty awesome.

This disillusionment pushed me away from revering you or heroes of the faith or mystics or doctrine purveyors or models or churches. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m still wanting to learn from all of you. But it drove me to the true example, the true Shepherd, the true Father. In this new world, I can embrace you as a true man – or woman – after God’s own heart, flawed, moving forward as we all are towards our true renewed selves with open hearts to God.

Now, when I hear of you falling or a few skeletons in your closet, my heart is free to break for you and your own need for our Abba. I’m no hypocrite and my turn may be coming. I can make my response this time all about you, to love you, to be there for you, no judgements, only grace and second chances - imagine that.

As disillusionment spreads – and clearly, it is spreading – I wonder if it spells freedom for you.

If we were all disabused of our false notions regarding perfect leadership, you would be released from unrealistic pressure or expectations. We could see your gifts and callings as a blessing to be used in community instead of as an isolating boundary of “The Holy and The Rest of Us.”

You would be free to receive, too. We would come alongside one another, looking to Christ alone as the author and perfecter of our faith. And when you struggle or stumble, you could be honest about it because who among us could ever throw the first stone at your precious face?  We would no longer be threatened by the fact that you also have questions and struggles. In fact, we could be a safe place for you to work through your thoughts.

We could welcome you, the “Man of God”, to the People of God.

Blessings on you, my brother, my sister, my friend. And thank you for all that you do, seen and unseen.

Gratefully,

Disillusioned

 

Head’s up: I lifted the phrase “gratefully disillusioned” from the God Journey podcasts with Wayne Jacobsen and Brad Cummings of LifeStream Ministries.

{ 33 comments… read them below or add one }

Seth January 12, 2012 at 4:04 am

You did well to balance gracde and truth here. Very well, indeed.

As usual your writing is pointed, flowing, and *in a groove*. As usual, I love the way you put the words together. But this one hits home a bit more because I’ve (a) worked for that man, and (b) been that man to some extent. It’s a mirror for my life so I appreciate the invitation to walk unashamed in the beautiful church.

Muich peace today.

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Sarah Styles Bessey January 12, 2012 at 7:55 am

I suppose that’s part of why I wrote it – “lived on both sides now” and all of that. (It’s just not a Thursday if I can’t work in Joni Mitchell somehow…) And thank you, Seth.

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Rebekah January 12, 2012 at 5:00 am

Wow! I think every church member should read this. So much truth here.

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rain January 12, 2012 at 5:09 am

sarah?
this one is exceptional. and exceptionally poignant for me as one acutely familiar with “the Holy and the Rest of Us”, that invisible yet obvious divide within hierarchical relationships. i too crave “the wind and the Holy Spirit in my hair” (love that phrase). i love that i can crawl right up to heaven and slip inside.

beautiful, scorching writing.

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Sarah Styles Bessey January 12, 2012 at 7:58 am

Thanks, Rain. I agree – that demarcation isn’t helpful to either side, is it?

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Tara January 12, 2012 at 6:09 am

this burns with truth.

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Kendra January 12, 2012 at 6:21 am

Wow, this hits me right at home. These are words that I’ve felt but never been able to express. Thank you, Sarah, for this!

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Sharon O January 12, 2012 at 6:32 am

Awesome truth in this writing.

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Julie January 12, 2012 at 6:34 am

So much truth here. So good.

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Rose January 12, 2012 at 6:50 am

This is so, so true. I’m a girl who has grown up in church, and I’m at the point where I’ve been disillusioned for a while and am looking around like, ‘What now?’ This is what now: meeting others in the valley on the way to God.

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Sarah Styles Bessey January 12, 2012 at 8:00 am

Exactly.

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mary January 12, 2012 at 7:01 am

“Now, when I hear of you falling or a few skeletons in your closet, my heart is free to break for you and your own need for our Abba. I’m no hypocrite and my turn may be coming. I can make my response this time all about you, to love you, to be there for you, no judgements, only grace and second chances – imagine that.”

Wow. And amen.

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Ramona January 12, 2012 at 7:05 am

That’s beautiful, my friend.

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HopefulLeigh January 12, 2012 at 8:19 am

Yes, yes, YES. And amen.

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Steph H. January 12, 2012 at 8:47 am

“And when you struggle or stumble, you could be honest about it because who among us could ever throw the first stone at your precious face?”
The sad reality is that even if leadership wants to be authentic and honest and humble and open, that the prevailing crowd (dare I say audience, even?!) can sometimes be too scared to hear the truth. They don’t want their pastor/leader to have flaws. Super flaws even. Except that the flaws and the cracks and the patina are part of what gives a leader the depth to lead.
Steph
A.K.A.- pastor’s kid, pastor’s kid-in-law, a “coming” to church, not “going” to church gal.

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Sarah Styles Bessey January 13, 2012 at 12:36 pm

I agree – the reality of what we’ve constructed together makes this impossible in many situations. And yes, audience is probably a good word in some of them.

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Tessa January 12, 2012 at 10:00 am

YES! Thank for you for these words.

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Jennifer Upton January 12, 2012 at 11:25 am

So well written. I know that this story is one you yourself have experienced as I have. When I first met reality regarding “My Spiritual Father” I became cold & bitter. I remember desiring to expose him and must admit I lashed out to others about him. I felt lied to and abandoned as I sat feeling more of a foe than a daughter. Thankfully through community teaching me the gospel my bitterness turned into compassion. I now surround myself with those whom respect the role of teacher yet learn from one another. No one is exempt or better than. Such a relief…such freedom!

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Musu January 12, 2012 at 2:25 pm

Very Timely for me. Still nursing the bruises of disillusionment and finding such joy in reaching out to the Lord for myself!

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Tara January 12, 2012 at 3:51 pm

I was trying to think of something else to say, but all I can think of is.. wow. Good job! Great read!

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Jenn January 12, 2012 at 5:18 pm

Love this one Sarah. Words of truth.

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Kevin January 12, 2012 at 7:51 pm

As a pastor this is incredibly encouraging to read. I only wish it seemed to be so of more Christians and congregations who often expect their pastors to be unbroken and piously holy “Men of God.” Your words strike a deep chord. I, for one, could think of no better place to find belonging than among the people of God I “do church” with every Sunday.

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Sarah Styles Bessey January 13, 2012 at 12:37 pm

Amen. Thanks, Kevin.

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Diana Trautwein January 12, 2012 at 7:56 pm

Thanks for this, Sarah B. I am not a Man of God, but a Woman of God. And today, a beautiful, gifted young woman pastor sat in my small home office, the one where I do spiritual direction, and began to struggle through the load of expectation that she carries as she begins her professional journey. “I don’t know how long I can keep it up…” she said. “Keep what up?” I asked. Ah, yes. that is the question of the hour. All of us, pastor, lay leader, pew sitter, onlooker – we all need to learn what it means to be real (not without boundaries, but honest and open). We need to say, “Hey there, I’m human just like you are. Don’t look to me for answers – look to God. In fact, let’s look to God together, shall we?” So I’m hoping that you might also address those of us who are not men in ministry leadership with this lovely reflection. Because, to tell you the truth, the expectations imposed upon women in ministry are even more impossibly high than those imposed upon men. Sad, but true – and we need to give ourselves and one another permission and freedom to be who we are, warts and all.

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Sarah Styles Bessey January 13, 2012 at 12:38 pm

This —-> Because, to tell you the truth, the expectations imposed upon women in ministry are even more impossibly high than those imposed upon men. Sad, but true – and we need to give ourselves and one another permission and freedom to be who we are, warts and all.

I totally agree.

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Vanessa January 12, 2012 at 9:45 pm

Thank you for this Sarah. I grew up putting that pastor on a pedestal and then when the truth came out (in the form of a scandal) it hurt. Badly. But I’ve been grateful to have learned because though I respect our pastor now, I’m not putting him up there. I wish more people would read something like this so that they know.

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rich birch January 13, 2012 at 3:07 am

Thank you.

As a pastor . . . thank you. As a leader of pastors . . . thank you. A human trying to figure life out . . . thank you.

Rich

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Emelie January 13, 2012 at 8:04 am

“I no longer look for you to deliver the message from the mountaintop for me. I like to be there myself, with the wind and the Holy Spirit in my hair. I’ve also found God in the deepest valleys, driest deserts, and do you remember? I found you there, too. Hail fellow, well met.”

Yes. We’re all in this. The celebration and the sorrow. And we need each other there. How sad when we put people on pedestals so that they have to do it alone. Pretend, even. This freedom you speak of is indeed better. Beautifully written.

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Christina January 13, 2012 at 8:55 am

Sarah,

I love your writing in general, but I love this post especially. Deep Truth. Beautifully articulated. Thank you.

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Julie Todd January 13, 2012 at 9:38 am

This is absolutely one of the most stunning posts that I have read here at A Deeper Story! I loved every word. I am 54 years old… spent 51 years in the church.. many with expectations on the man who stood in the pulipt. How many words did I take in as the “gospel” because “he” said so? How many times did I look to “him” to feed me? I just didn’t have a clue. I was immersed in religion.. It’s what I grew to know and understand. But no more….

This post depicts what “church” is really supposed to be…. broken people surrounded by love, seeing the worst in each other and love even more for the telling. We “the church” are made to be safe places where love can be lived and given to all of us who have been broken by sin. God does not break us. He heals we who are broken.

I loved this post, truly loved it. I have read several of Wayne Jacobsen’s books… good writings!

I’d love to suggest another book that’s a favorite of mine, “The Cure”…. Given what you have written here, I think you would love it.

Blessings!

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Lucy January 13, 2012 at 1:18 pm

Do you know Gerard Manley Hopkins? This post makes me think of his *Myself Unholy*–not the “and they are purer” but the “no better serves me now, save best”:

Myself unholy, from myself unholy
To the sweet living of my friends I look
Eye-greeting doves bright-counter to the rook,
Fresh brooks to salt sand-teasing waters shoaly:
And they are purer, but alas! not solely
The unquestion’d readings of a blotless book.
And so my trust, confused, struck, and shook
Yields to the sultry siege of melancholy.
He has sin of mine, he its near brother;
Knowing them well I can but see the fall.
This fault in one I found, that in another:
And so, though each have one while I have all,
No better serves me now, save best; no other
Save Christ: to Christ I look, on Christ I call.

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r.elliott January 15, 2012 at 9:09 am

great post…love wayne and lifestreams…

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Karin January 18, 2012 at 7:19 am

I stumbled upon your website while trying to secure the domain name iamemerging. I love the images you’ve so beautifully captured and the truth of your words. Thank you.

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