A few months ago I went to a conference where the singer/songwriter Derek Webb was playing with Flamy Grant. Clearly Webb has come a long way from his theobro days when he wrote tunes about predestination and loneliness (what a depressing combination!) with Caedmon’s Call. So during the question-answer period of the conference, someone from the audience asked him about Rich Mullins, who had befriended the young Caedmon’s Call-er before his untimely death in the mid-90s.
Audience Member: What do you think Rich Mullins would say about the trajectory your career has taken?
Derek: Well, he would agree with me, of course.
The audience laughs.
Derek: No, but really. The thing is, dead men make convenient heroes. They can’t disagree with us, so we easily remake them into our own image.
Audience nodding.
Derek: But here’s what I do know. I know that Rich would want me to be honest in my art.
Webb’s comment reminded me of this quote from W.E.B Du Bois:
“One is astonished in the study of history at the recurrence of the idea that evil must be forgotten, distorted, skimmed over. We must not remember that Daniel Webster got drunk but only remember that he was a splendid constitutional lawyer. We must forget that George Washington was a slave owner…and simply remember the things we regard as creditable and inspiring. The difficulty, of course, with this philosophy is that history loses its value as an incentive and example; it paints perfect men and noble nations, but it does not tell the truth.”
I don’t know where Derek’s faith lands these days. But I can understand someone so committed to honesty that they want nothing to do with a church that serves as the backbone of a society hell-bent on living in illusion.
The church has rarely been a safe place for honesty. In fact, we have often perpetuated lies and called them truth, talking about truth as in a way that protects us from actually encountering it. As Catherine Keller has noted,
“The claim of absolute truth is the greatest single obstruction to theological honesty.”
We use all the big, pious words to make us sound honest. We adopt the voice of intense sincerity. But our words and voice are just power-plays of delusion. Their very articulation has become like the veil over Moses’s face - ways to hide the glory so we don’t have to face reality. The very words of the Bible are used like an illusionist’s sleeve, showing you what looks like the truth while distracting us from reality in the other hand.
I find pastors like me are some of the worst offenders. I have at times become so lost in my job that I don’t know who I am. I am paid to be holy, so I wear the uniform whether it fits or not. I take on the role of the messiah, the caregiver, the moral philosopher, the biblical expert, the social commentator, the community organizer, and the prophet, but I lose the ability to grieve, to be human, to be frail, to be a sinner.
And it’s destroying me.
Sometimes when I’m by myself I don’t know who I am or what I believe. Sometimes I wonder if there even is a self or if my identity is so hijacked by all the demands of this capitalist trainwreck that I have become legion but not living.
But such illusions will never lead me to the living God. They might lead me to religion; they might secure my role as a religious functionary, but illusion can never lead me to God. As Trevor Hudson says,
“God’s home address is reality.”
There is no encountering God within my self-constructed delusions. To take up the cross is to lay upon myself the kind of burden that will inevitably expose the true me. It means to put myself in such risky, vulnerable places that I cannot help but come face to face with myself in all my terrible beauty.
But I cannot do this by myself. I have to have a community committed to honesty around me. Derek Webb, I suspect, no longer believes the church can be that kind of community. And, honestly, I don’t blame him. I just hope he’s wrong. I suspect he also hopes he’s wrong. Because at the end of the day, commitment to honesty means you’re also committed to being wrong when the illusion is shattered. You’re committed to something - Someone - beyond the illusion. And to be committed to honesty as a community means you agree to shatter each other’s illusions.
We don’t need more perfect pastors or perfect churches. We need honest pastors and honest churches. Perfections are delusions, illusions, lies. But the truth, no matter how terrible, will always be beautiful.
God, save me from my illusions.
Save us from our delusions.
May You never be the hero created for my convenience.
May You be The-One-Who-Shatters our pretense.