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Editors’ note: 

Taken from Faith Without Illusions: Following Jesus as a Cynic-Saint by Andrew Byers. Copyright(c) 2011 by Andrew J. Byers. Used by permission of InterVarsity Press PO Box 1400 Downers Grove, IL 60515. www.ivpress.com.

You don’t just find the most disillusioned Christians on the periphery of church life. They may also be standing before the pulpits at the center of the chapel stage. We assume that our pastors are the most enthusiastic supporters of church life, but many of them are secretly cynical. And they feel trapped.

When I began writing about cynicism from and toward the church, I envisioned jaded college students and skeptical 20-somethings as my audience. Then I realized that disillusionment with God and the church is nothing new—the more I studied and typed, the material seemed no less fitting for those in my own generation and older.

Near the close of the writing journey, however, I realized I was also writing to pastors.

Christians become cynical when they observe bad thinking and bad behavior in the church. Perhaps they notice the outworking of pop-theological ideas like the prosperity gospel or pietistic legalism. Maybe they notice backbiting and gossip. But those Christians most privy to the misdeeds and erroneous ideas of a local church are not the folks on the fringes—they are the members who are serving actively in the core. The disenfranchising skeletons in the church closet are most likely to be discovered not by disinterested visitors at the ecclesial periphery, but by actively involved members serving at the ecclesial center.

No one is more actively serving at that center than the pastor.

But the pastor cannot just flee to the fringes in exasperation. A Sunday school teacher may elect to take a break.  A deacon or elder may decide to rotate out of service for a year or two. A choir member may opt out of this year’s Christmas cantata. But the pastor often feels painfully stuck in the midst of the mess and filth of an imperfect community beset with sin.

There is no way out of the pastoral mess. There is no avoiding the tragedies and mishaps of parish life. Should a problematic member leave, another one will be joining the church quite soon. Should the pastor leave for another church, it is likely that the greener grass was only a mirage. Sure, a pastor can leave the ministry altogether (and some do), but then may ensue a frustrating existence characterized by fire shut up in the bones with no means of release. Planting a new church will not solve the problem. Eventually, bad thinking and bad behavior will likely begin to appear before long in a young church, too.

Bad thinking and bad behavior among Christians is inexcusable but inevitable. Though escape is not a viable option, there are ways of dealing with all this disillusionment that is souring and poisoning the heart of the pastor.

So where does a cynical pastor look for comfort and wisdom in times of disillusionment?

Someone Who Understands

If any pastor faced the raw, ugly challenges of church work, it was the apostle Paul. Aflame with longing to be used by God in radical, extraordinary fashion, I once romanticized Paul’s ministry. The extensive travels, dynamic preaching, powerful miracles—naïvely, I viewed Paul’s ministry as an adventure of cinematic scope, the sort of thrilling excitement to which I aspired as a young man (presumably) destined for grand feats of ministerial glory. As I became more involved in pastoring, however, the reality began to set in that Paul’s ministerial experience was actually quite brutal. The sufferings he sustained at the hands of unbelievers were certainly enough to persuade most to choose a less hazardous career path.

But think of the suffering he sustained at the hands of believers.

In spite of the care he took in Galatia to articulate the gospel with precision and accuracy, the Christians in that city readily abandoned orthodoxy for theological distortions. In spite of the months he spent building intimate relationships with the believers in Corinth, they were quick to reject his apostleship and shift their allegiance to pastors more impressive in speech and appearance. Paul could labor to shepherd and preach night and day for months and still discover sexual immorality appalling enough to make pagans blush. He was betrayed not only by entire congregations but also by close partners in ministry.

And Yet No Burnout

But I am astonished and fascinated with this: Paul never seems to have suffered from ministerial burnout. How was this avoided? I propose two reasons. The first is that his understanding of the gospel had such comprehensive depth. The most hurtful and audacious sins a church could ever commit are no match for the gospel’s expansiveness. Second, Paul’s ministry was a participation in Christ. Suffering was fundamental to his calling (Acts 9:16). Paul was co-crucified with his Lord. To follow Jesus is to endure a cross, to endure unjust afflictions and untold pain. Paul also knew that the cross is not the terminal stop when following the way of Jesus. The path leads straight out of an empty tomb. Pastoral ministry is marked not only by co-crucifixion, but by co-resurrection. The way out is not a cynical flight to the church fringes. The way out is through the cracked open tomb of Jesus who is glorified in the wearied faithfulness of his servants.

Paul’s comprehensive grasp of the expansive gospel and his participation in Christ’s sufferings and resurrection restrained him from plunging into cynical despair as a pastor. This does not mean that he refused to confront bad thinking and behavior in the churches under his pastoral care. Yet even in his most furious moments, Paul envisioned himself not as an assailant “breathing threats and murder against the disciples of the Lord” (Acts 9:1). He had abandoned that vocational disposition on the road between Jerusalem and Damascus. Instead, he envisioned himself as a parent loyally invested in the well-being of those under his pastoral wings, as if they were “my little children, for whom I am again in the anguish of childbirth until Christ is formed in you” (Gal 4:19; cf. 1 Thes 2:5-8; Phil 1:8). Paul rigorously corrected wayward churches, but not as a cynical pastor secretly longing to flee to the ecclesial fringes to lob searing critiques from a safe distance.

Anguish and Tears

Between 1 and 2 Corinthians Paul had sent another letter, one which has not survived. It was apparently brutal. But he did not write to spitefully attack them: “I wrote to you out of much affliction and anguish of heart and with many tears, not to cause you pain but to let you know the abundant love that I have for you” (2 Cor 2:4).

Is this the normal attitude we take in pastoral ministry when confronting churches today? Do we admonish more out of disgust, or out of a love so strong that we can say with Paul, “I will most gladly spend and be spent for your souls”? (2 Cor 12:15a). Even among the dysfunctional Corinthians, Paul exemplified a ministry that is constructive and not destructive, one that is “for building up and not for tearing down” (2 Cor 13:10). His example—or more accurately, the gospel he preached—offers hope for center-stage cynics still today.

 

Is there enough evidence for us to believe the Gospels?

In an age of faith deconstruction and skepticism about the Bible’s authority, it’s common to hear claims that the Gospels are unreliable propaganda. And if the Gospels are shown to be historically unreliable, the whole foundation of Christianity begins to crumble.
But the Gospels are historically reliable. And the evidence for this is vast.
To learn about the evidence for the historical reliability of the four Gospels, click below to access a FREE eBook of Can We Trust the Gospels? written by New Testament scholar Peter J. Williams.

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