Why the “World’s Worst Pastor?”

Last week’s blog certainly drew way more attention than I ever expected. Let me thank you all for taking time to read, comment, like, share, and respond to the ramblings of (arguably) the “World’s Worst Pastor.”

While many people liked the blog, the title apparently bothered a few folks, and it gives me another post. Why call it the “World’s Worst Pastor” blog?

For starters, it’s already worked. People, especially those who don’t know me or don’t necessarily share my faith tradition, get an enormous kick out of the name.

Hey, my friend Jamie Wright made a great cottage industry writing as “The Very Worst Missionary,” so I just thought I’d add Pastor to the mix. And for the record, I asked Jamie’s permission before hijacking her shtick.

Am I the World’s Worst Pastor? That might depend on who you ask, but probably not. Do I think I am a bad pastor? On some days yeah, I certainly do. But most of the time, I think I’m a pretty good pastor. And I have worked extremely hard at being a good pastor.

In all seriousness, some people—maybe a LOT of people–would disagree with my assessment of my own pastoral abilities. Some folks just see “pastor” through a specific set of lenses, and I do not (and likely never will) fit into their view.

Do you remember your school days and your first taste of standardized tests? Back in 2nd grade, we had to “bubble in” the scan-tron sheets filled with circles or ovals. The teachers threatened us with a near-death experience if we did not have 17 No. 2 pencils on hand, or if we DARED to fail to make perfect bubbles for our answers.

Failing to fill in the complete bubble or daring to go outside the bubble lines would result in our answer being marked WRONG!

I will never forget our Room Mom coming to my desk, saying in a soft yet kind yet ominous tone, “Make your circles good.” I was so diligently trying to stay inside the lines that I did not make a complete bubble. Then I was corrected for making my bubbles too big and going outside the lines. Then I was finally corrected for taking too long to fill in my perfect bubbles and not finishing the test.

And that’s what makes me, in some circles, the World’s Worst Pastor. I am sick of wearing myself out trying make the perfect bubble.

It’s time for a faith that colors outside the lines and bursts a few bubbles along the way.

Churches and Christians that are spending so much time trying to make their perfect bubble that they are failing to finish the test. We are so wrapped up in the church calendars, the events we do “every year,” and making sure that Mr. Smith or Mrs. Jones don’t get upset that we cannot even consider following in the footsteps of Jesus Christ.

Following Christ is a messy business. Christ tried to start working in the church (i.e. Synagogue) but they kicked him out. They did this because He wasn’t concerned about how the church bulletin looked. He wasn’t worried that a song was too contemporary or traditional. It did not bother Him that someone sat in the wrong seat or that something didn’t happen “every year.”

Jesus sought ministry that was dirty and messy and chaotic. It was walking along filthy roads, hanging out with a group of 12 guys—smelly fishermen, murderers, tax collectors, and traitors–who probably would not even speak to each other if Jesus had not called them. And Jesus did this because He had zero interest in creating any kind of perfect bubble.

The mantra of the “World’s Worst Pastor” fits because I usually do not meet many of those typical, traditional images that people have of a pastor. I am certainly not the least bit interested in trying to color in their perfect bubble image.

Here is one example. People have regularly complained to me that I care too much about serving others, feeding the poor, overcoming racial barriers, etc. One former church member even said to me, “All we hear about is feeding the hungry and helping the homeless, and we just get tired of that every Sunday!” She proceeded to say that was all well and good, but she had never heard a pastor who talked so much about that “stuff.”

What she failed to realize is that I took this as a compliment.

If Jesus does anything in His life on earth, He teaches us that serving others is not just a part of the Gospel. It IS the Gospel. If preaching too much about these things makes me one of the World’s Worst Pastors, I am more than fine with it. I hope love for others always comes before perfecting our bubbles.

In dealing with people, my first move is not to call people out because they use a few four-letter words or have a few beers or smoke cigarettes. Nor is it to judge their clothing, question their sexuality, investigate their past, or ask them, “Are you a Christian?” In fact, I try not to ask that question. Ever.

(Even worse, I must confess that I like beer. And sometimes a whiskey. And an occasional cigar—all of which really boost my Worst Pastor rating).

What I try to do is get to know who they are and what they’re about, and I attempt to give them a genuine look at who I am. It’s not always pretty, on either side. But it is real and genuine, eye-opening and life-giving. And I think that is exactly what Jesus tried to do, while calling us to follow the example.

Jesus’ coloring abilities fall far afield of our preconceived lines. But perfect in our eyes was never His goal. Perfect bubbles for pastors are our creation—a defense against the messy, dirty, gut-wrenching life that Jesus calls us to live.

Please keep in mind that I am not saying, in any way, that my definition of Pastor is perfectly in line with Jesus. It’s quite the opposite. Yes, I am sometimes even the worst at being the Worst! I’m simply trying to learn to pursue Christ more fully in my life and work, rather than some notion of pastoral perfection.

No, I am weary from trying to make the perfect bubble. I am interested in those who fall short, or far outside the lines. This is where Jesus was, and is, and where I hope to learn to be. That’s why some people might call me the “World’s Worst Pastor.”

All things considered, that title might not be so bad

When the President Asks You to Pray…

The views expressed in this blog are those of the author and do not in any way reflect any policy or position of any other institution, affiliates, partners, departments, donors or alumni. They are mine, and mine alone. Disagree? Feel free to contact me! (ONLY me)

When the President Asks You to Pray

I consider myself to be a pretty blessed human being. Beyond countless personal blessings (family, children, career, etc.), I’ve had the privilege to see and experience a lot of things.

I attended the college of my dreams. I own a conference football championship ring from that college. I saw the Sid Bream Slide in game 7 of the NLCS in 1992. I once had lunch with theologian Jurgen Moltmann. I met Jack Ham and John Smoltz. I hosted a sports talk show on ESPN radio. I ran the bases at Wrigley Field and Fenway Park in the same summer. I stood on a mountain in Maine, where we were the first people in America to see the sun rise.

(My apologies for the sports “tint” in my life moments—perhaps a lesson in priorities is warranted?).

But few things will match the events of May 7, 2017.

Back in May, we decided to take a spontaneous trip to Plains, GA to see our former President and First Lady, Jimmy and Rosalynn Carter. Mr. Carter teaches a Sunday School class at Maranatha Baptist Church in Plains. It is open to the public, if you arrive in time (which means at least by 7 am).

We got to the church about 7:15 on the morning of May 7, thinking that we could not be that late. As it turns out, the parking attendant gave us #71, which designated our place in line. As we lined up to go into the church, our place was a long, loooong way from the door. We worried that 15 minutes might actually cost us a chance to be in the room with the President.

The organizer of these pregame festivities at Maranatha is Miss Jan. She makes it absolutely clear that she is in charge, making sure everyone is single file and behaving themselves with appropriate fourth-grade courtesy and etiquette.

This makes perfect sense—after all, she was Amy Carter’s fourth-grade teacher.

Miss Jan’s role is absolutely essential, as the church tries to fit 350 people into the sanctuary each Sunday. On the Sunday before we attended, Maranatha had 28 members present and 235 visitors. Secret Service agents and bomb dogs are now a part of their pre-worship preparations. And they embrace this as their mission, as they willingly and cheerfully extend hospitality to all those who want to enter and hear. That, in and of itself, is a powerful testimony to the hospitality of Christ.

(Unless you cannot behave—in which case you will answer to Miss Jan).

As we reached the door, the church looked awfully crowded and we felt sure we were headed for the small overflow room to watch on a screen. But Miss Jan’s husband (who also serves as parking lot attendant, door monitor, and usher) said, “How about sitting in the choir loft?”

We were thrilled—a seat right behind Jimmy Carter!

Promptly at 10, we looked to our left to see that former President Jimmy Carter was in the room.

I have never even been in the room with a former or current President, much less met one. It was overwhelming to see Jimmy Carter, standing about 10 feet away from us. After all, how many Presidents (or any other politician) would invite you into the room when it does not involve a $1000 a plate dinner or some golden opportunity for positive publicity?

But it all of that was nothing compared to what happened next.

Mr. Carter’s first move was to scan the sections and ask people where they were from. It was amazing to hear people from as far away as China or Ghana, some of whom came to hear Mr. Carter’s lesson.

He followed this by asking if there were any pastors or missionaries, current or former, in the crowd. I raised my hand along with about 12 others. He then asked where we had served and our denomination.

Just as Miss Jan told us he would, Mr. Carter proceeded to seek out a pastor to lead the Morning Prayer. His first comment was, “I normally like to ask one of our women pastors to pray, but I don’t think we have any here this morning.” I was totally impressed with the former President’s first thought (as was my wife and feminist-leaning teenage daughter).

What happened next was absolutely unforgettable. Mr. Carter looked at me, in the choir loft, and said, “How about you? Would you lead our prayer this morning?”

I doubt that anyone will know the awe that filled me at that moment, other than the unfortunate person who had to dry-clean the khakis I was wearing.

It’s hard to describe my emotions when a former President looks at you and says, “How about you, son? You got something for the class today?”

I have performed this ritual a thousand times. But no prayer request ever left me tongue-tied and knot-kneed like this one. When the former President calls on you, it definitely gets your attention more than your run-of-the-mill blessing prior to the family Thanksgiving meal.

My knees almost buckled and my internal organs felt like they were shaking as I stood up. This was going to be a truly Spirit-led prayer because I had absolutely no words. It took me a good five seconds to gather myself and produce something audible–like, you know, “Let us pray.”

Lots of people kindly told me that I did a good job (although I regularly wonder what it means to do a “good job” with a prayer). I’m glad I did–because to this day, I do not remember a word I said!

This was not just because it was a former President making the request. It was awesome because it was this former President making the request.

My father is fond of saying that Jimmy Carter is the only man to use the Presidency of the United States as a stepping-stone to greatness. It is indeed this greatness that he displays after his term in the White House that made it such an honor to lead a prayer at his request.

I am as in awe of the former President’s spirituality, humility, empathy, and fight for justice, much more than his political career.Mr. Carter’s greatness is not found in his legacy as a former leader of the free world. It is found in his ongoing work as a servant leader in the current world.

Rather than using his post-political status to seek fame or fortune or million-dollar speaking fees, Jimmy Carter returned to the family farm in tiny Plains. He left the White House to start building houses–with Habitat for Humanity.

The same man who managed to get Israel and Egypt—Israel and Egypt—to sit down and negotiate a peace treaty, continues to negotiate for peace and freedom around the world. He invites others to join in this quest through the work of The Carter Center and other initiatives.

Rosalynn and Jimmy Carter continue as world-wide crusaders for peace, for anti-human trafficking initiatives, for fair housing, for mental health, and for equitable treatment of all human beings. I say “crusaders” because they back up their advocacy with direct action–and they call on others to join them in those efforts.

And still, on the vast majority of Sundays, they are at their tiny country church that is nestled in a grove of pecan trees, where the former President welcome a full house for Sunday School. They even take the time to snap a picture with every family or group that attends—provided that you stay for worship, of course.

(He did indicate that the hour-long post-worship photo sessions may not be their favorite thing to do these days!).

Oh, and he continues to do all of this, even as a 92 year old cancer survivor.

Mr. Carter’s unassuming, down-to-earth presence and My daughter Abbie’s assessment of the Carters was as simple and sincere as they are: “We could all learn a lot from them about humility.”

Thank God that Jimmy Carter chooses not to dwell on how history will judge his presidency, but on how he can work for a better future for all of humanity.

May we all recognize that our greatness is not found in how history judges us when the world is watching, but in what we do when no one is looking.

May we all learn to serve with gracious humility and empathy, thinking of others more highly than ourselves.

And wouldn’t it be nice if more of our leaders–on every level–would do the same? Better yet, perhaps we could all learn to lead in the way that the Carters do, with a little less talk and a lot more action.