hes indeed a fine preacher.
Alpha Males and the Messiah Complex
I first met Kevin about eight years ago at a youth camp in North Carolina. He was 25, just had his first child and was married to a woman far too beautiful for him. Kevin was a gifted and passionate young man enjoying a very fruitful season of ministry in an exceptionally large church. In fact, up to this point everything he touched quadrupled in size, filled up with the Holy Spirit and turned to gold. The thing that impressed me the most about him was his passion for truth and his desire for instilling that in the people Jesus had asked him to lead. Walking away that week, I felt that I would hear about Kevin again. I even thought maybe I would go looking for him if Jesus ever let me pastor.
This past week I was speaking at an event. After my second session, a man walked up to me and introduced himself as the same Kevin I had met eight years ago. I’m still not sure if it was really him, because the guy I spent the next two hours with was nothing like the man I met in North Carolina. I don’t think I need to go too much into his story here; you probably already know it anyway. Not his exactly, but a version of it. Kevin apparently wore down, got depressed and imploded. He even left the ministry for a couple of years. He had just started back at a small church in the Houston area, but, to be honest, he is a shell of the man I met all those years ago. He still seems to carry an unbelievable amount of bitterness towards God and the Church.
I couldn’t sleep after Kevin left my room. Why does this keep happening? Why do we keep losing sharp, young, godly men to bitterness and despair? Am I in danger? I found myself praying and thinking for the next few hours. I always want to go back to the life of Jesus when it comes to questions of surviving ministry. There has never been a harder road than the one Jesus walked. When the prophet Isaiah said that Jesus would be a man acquainted with sorrow and grief he wasn’t speaking nonchalantly. Jesus’ ministry was filled with soul-crushing events. He was hated, harassed, hounded, and betrayed by one of his own. His friends died, his disciples were clueless, his family believed he was crazy, and he constantly wanted more for people than they wanted for themselves. Throw in that he daily saw his slaughter getting closer on the horizon and I’m not sure how he survived. The tendency here is to play the “yeah, but he’s God” card. The thing we can’t forget is that he was also fully human. How did the man Jesus endure? There are a few things we see Jesus doing consistently that might help us as we seek to run our race here with faithfulness and perseverance.
The story in John 4 about the Samaritan woman always stirs my soul. The piece that always shocked me was Jesus’ confession to his disciples that he was tired. I never think of Christ in these terms. The scriptures say he was tired, so he sat down and told the disciples to go on into town and get lunch. I try to imagine their conversation as they walked on into town “This guy can calm the seas and feed five thousand people, but he needs us to go get him a freaking sandwich?” It seems like the only alpha male I’ve ever read about that doesn’t have a messiah complex is the actual Messiah. I think about how often we get tired but pretend like we’re not, pushing on through like we’re some kind of superman, cape waving in the wind, feeling no pain or fatigue. Not Jesus. When he hits the wall he confesses it to his crew and sits down for a bit.
The second thing we see Jesus doing consistently is getting alone for silence, prayer and meditation. This area of my life can quickly—and, at times, carelessly—be folded into sermon preparation or study. The problem is that studying to preach, teach or write is very different than feasting on Jesus in such a way that it feeds the soul. Don’t get me wrong, there is a definite feasting that occurs in study, but I think what Jesus is modeling for us here is different. Silence, trying to hear from him, meditation for our own souls…This is different than meditating on a text to be preached.
The last thing I’ll mention about Jesus’ life is that, when he was finally overwhelmed and exhausted right before the cross, he didn’t have sex with his secretary. He asked publicly for prayer. I habitually ask the people who worship at The Village to pray for me and my family. Sometimes I even give them details about the specific area they can pray about. I need it. I am a young, aggressive, alpha male who didn’t get hugged by his dad a lot; no doubt I have serious issues. The people of The Village have been so faithful; I believe, at times, that God’s response to their prayers has provided the power to help me keep going.
Days after my conversation with Kevin, I still feel a heaviness in my heart, not only for him but for his family and the Kingdom. We walk through such a mine field as ministers and servants of the great King in this fallen world. I pray for your honesty, I pray for your perseverance, and as always, I pray for the Kingdom to come.
I first met Kevin about eight years ago at a youth camp in North Carolina. He was 25, just had his first child and was married to a woman far too beautiful for him. Kevin was a gifted and passionate young man enjoying a very fruitful season of ministry in an exceptionally large church. In fact, up to this point everything he touched quadrupled in size, filled up with the Holy Spirit and turned to gold. The thing that impressed me the most about him was his passion for truth and his desire for instilling that in the people Jesus had asked him to lead. Walking away that week, I felt that I would hear about Kevin again. I even thought maybe I would go looking for him if Jesus ever let me pastor.
This past week I was speaking at an event. After my second session, a man walked up to me and introduced himself as the same Kevin I had met eight years ago. I’m still not sure if it was really him, because the guy I spent the next two hours with was nothing like the man I met in North Carolina. I don’t think I need to go too much into his story here; you probably already know it anyway. Not his exactly, but a version of it. Kevin apparently wore down, got depressed and imploded. He even left the ministry for a couple of years. He had just started back at a small church in the Houston area, but, to be honest, he is a shell of the man I met all those years ago. He still seems to carry an unbelievable amount of bitterness towards God and the Church.
I couldn’t sleep after Kevin left my room. Why does this keep happening? Why do we keep losing sharp, young, godly men to bitterness and despair? Am I in danger? I found myself praying and thinking for the next few hours. I always want to go back to the life of Jesus when it comes to questions of surviving ministry. There has never been a harder road than the one Jesus walked. When the prophet Isaiah said that Jesus would be a man acquainted with sorrow and grief he wasn’t speaking nonchalantly. Jesus’ ministry was filled with soul-crushing events. He was hated, harassed, hounded, and betrayed by one of his own. His friends died, his disciples were clueless, his family believed he was crazy, and he constantly wanted more for people than they wanted for themselves. Throw in that he daily saw his slaughter getting closer on the horizon and I’m not sure how he survived. The tendency here is to play the “yeah, but he’s God” card. The thing we can’t forget is that he was also fully human. How did the man Jesus endure? There are a few things we see Jesus doing consistently that might help us as we seek to run our race here with faithfulness and perseverance.
The story in John 4 about the Samaritan woman always stirs my soul. The piece that always shocked me was Jesus’ confession to his disciples that he was tired. I never think of Christ in these terms. The scriptures say he was tired, so he sat down and told the disciples to go on into town and get lunch. I try to imagine their conversation as they walked on into town “This guy can calm the seas and feed five thousand people, but he needs us to go get him a freaking sandwich?” It seems like the only alpha male I’ve ever read about that doesn’t have a messiah complex is the actual Messiah. I think about how often we get tired but pretend like we’re not, pushing on through like we’re some kind of superman, cape waving in the wind, feeling no pain or fatigue. Not Jesus. When he hits the wall he confesses it to his crew and sits down for a bit.
The second thing we see Jesus doing consistently is getting alone for silence, prayer and meditation. This area of my life can quickly—and, at times, carelessly—be folded into sermon preparation or study. The problem is that studying to preach, teach or write is very different than feasting on Jesus in such a way that it feeds the soul. Don’t get me wrong, there is a definite feasting that occurs in study, but I think what Jesus is modeling for us here is different. Silence, trying to hear from him, meditation for our own souls…This is different than meditating on a text to be preached.
The last thing I’ll mention about Jesus’ life is that, when he was finally overwhelmed and exhausted right before the cross, he didn’t have sex with his secretary. He asked publicly for prayer. I habitually ask the people who worship at The Village to pray for me and my family. Sometimes I even give them details about the specific area they can pray about. I need it. I am a young, aggressive, alpha male who didn’t get hugged by his dad a lot; no doubt I have serious issues. The people of The Village have been so faithful; I believe, at times, that God’s response to their prayers has provided the power to help me keep going.
Days after my conversation with Kevin, I still feel a heaviness in my heart, not only for him but for his family and the Kingdom. We walk through such a mine field as ministers and servants of the great King in this fallen world. I pray for your honesty, I pray for your perseverance, and as always, I pray for the Kingdom to come.
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