YouTube knows my interest and fascination with stories about fallen leaders among The Church As We Know It. Now, everytime I open the app, the algorithm lines up another group of videos of pastors who were caught up in some newsworthy scandal. Daily it seems, there is a new and inordinate set of incidents coming to light of sexual abuse, some that have been covered up for years, by men who hold a position of spiritual authority and use that power against women and children. Many are coming to justice while others hide behind a set of lawyers to keep it quiet.
And along with this news are the floating commentary from watchdogs that decry it all with the same response:
Why is this happening?
As one who left The Church As We Know It 20 years ago, I have my theory. I’ve never written about it, but I think it’s been long enough that I can weigh in.
I parted ways with The Church As We Know It 20 years ago for one primary reason. My participation in it no longer required faith. I was nothing more than a purveyor of religious goods and services that utilized good leadership and marketing to get more people in the door.
My decision to leave came at a time when I was contemplating what really mattered in my life. 9/11 took a toll on my foundation of personal beliefs. I was the guy paid to have the answers and couldn’t help coming up short when pressed for certainty. The questions I was asking didn’t have room in the system of which I was paid to perpetuate. It was hard to rethink what I believed about subjects like the role of The Advocate and what the purpose of the Scripture is when the people signing my paycheck felt uncomfortable with my inquiry. I had to cut ties and severe my salary from my faith.
My options were very clear and ultimately and my response not that difficult to conclude. I can’t force someone to answer a question they aren’t asking. Nor can I go to sleep on what someone else believes. This was going to be a very personal journey and I would need to depart quietly to embark on my quest.
In 1994, when I was in vocational ministry, I wrote a song as a theme for a student conference we were hosting. The title was Uncharted Waters. I used the metaphor of sailing the open seas in search of treasure to describe a life of faith. But my critical admission, I wrote it in theory. I had never done anything risky like I penned in the lyrics. It sounded sound, but it had never been tested on the shoulders of my life experience. It would take 10 more years for it to turn from a conference theme song to a personal anthem.
Set to sail
©1995 Uncharted Waters, Songs in the Dark, Kevin Shinn
It’s time to board
On a lifelong journey
We can’t afford
The trip is set
The plans are made
We need not worry
The cost is paid.
Available on Spotify, Apple Music
Faith is being sure of what I hope for, and certain of what I can’t see. It is this one quality that The Son of Man said he would be looking for when he returns to for a visit. When he comes, will he find faith on the earth? Will he find faith in me? Not faithful church attendance. Not faithful reading of the Scriptures. Not good morals and ethics.
Faith is the prize of that hunt. Faith only.
I was taught that faith was what got you to heaven, and that my new command is to share that faith with others so they, too, would be sure where they would go when they die. I was not shown that faith is what brings heaven to earth. Like we were taught to pray, “your will be done, on earth, as it is in heaven.” Bring the unseen to the realm of what is seen. Allow that which is invisible to influence what is visible.
Parting ways with The Church As We Know It required more faith than staying attached to it where it was predictable and comfortable. I was leaving to find something new, something I could not see, but something I hoped for, and hoped was possible. Everything about The Church As We Know It could be seen with my own eyes. “Success” had more to do with good principles and practices of business management that can be read in the latest leadership best-seller than from an intimate connection with The Advocate. The former is seen, the latter unseen.
From my vantage point, the fallen and untrustworthy pastors of The Church As We Know It are nothing more than a form of any random CEO and corporation. And why are we trying to rescue an earthly and visible organizational form reliant more on a tactile policy manual than a dynamic, unseen Spirit? No wonder they are falling. They are far from the shepherd who leads the flock besides still waters out of connection, compassion and brokenness, but instead, corrals them in a parking lot to stay put so they can be counted and reported. And those like me who leave the fold are seen as giving up and abandoning the faith when it’s just the opposite. We are doing so only to find green pastures in which to lie down and help ourselves, as well as others, to find rest.
As was intended