Pastors get to have these complex and wonderful conversations with people from all walks of life. I think the words, “Go ahead, I’ll listen” are tattooed on my forehead with ink that’s invisible when I look in the mirror. Everyone sees it but me. I know this. It’s quite startling what people will tell you once they know you’re a pastor. I’ve heard confessions from the penitent on airplanes, prayer requests from grocery clerks and relationship woes from waiters.
Gary Long
|
One thing I hear people say consistently is, “I want to live a life of relevance.” Or, “I want to live a life that matters.” It’s not always those exact words, but that’s the gist. And because I am a pastor, I try to help people find the answers they seek. The prevailing notion is that if they work hard enough, pray hard enough, seek hard enough and dream hard enough that God will enliven them with some special purpose in life. But here’s the problem: It seems that more than a few of us have exchanged the concept of purpose with that of importance, and meaning has been replaced by the need for relevance.
I’m not bashing Rick Warren. The Purpose Driven Life isn’t my favorite book, but it has helped countless people grow closer to God and relieved Saddleback Church of the need to pay Pastor Warren.
What I am criticizing is the manner in which people have imbued the need to feel important with the real and valid ideal of calling, aka “purpose.” I reckon there’s nothing explicitly wrong with wanting to feel important because that drive pushes humans beyond normal limits and leads to great achievement, even if it’s in vanity. But there is something inherently wrong with taking the need to feel important and claim it’s about living a purposeful life.
Similarly, relevance has replaced the value of meaning. Arguably, a thing is “meaningful” because of its context, and context is frequently a matter of relevance. For example, American flags flying high on special days are meaningful to me because of my context as a proud American, but would be irrelevant to someone of another nationality. To wit, baseball’s World Series is coming up in October and will only host American teams (really, the Toronto Blue Jays haven’t been serious contenders in nearly 20 years). It is considered a “world” title to sport’s declining number of enthusiasts, but pales in ironic comparison to the World Cup of Soccer, wherein teams that are actually from all over the globe compete. Baseball has relevance. Soccer has importance.
The point is this: Our lives should aim for meaning, not relevance. And for real purpose, not importance. I seriously doubt that Jesus sought relevance as he was dying on the tree of Calvary. But what he was doing was on purpose and became important because of the love he displayed there. There was meaning in his death because of his resurrection, and because all of us have to deal with death, his actions have become relevant. Jesus didn’t aim for importance. He didn’t seek relevance. Both of those things came because he fulfilled his purpose and meaning.
The church should aim the same way. As we face shrinking budgets, declining membership and aging facilities, traditional churches are tempted to choose relevance over purpose. After all, filling the pews and the coffers may just preserve the institution, but it may kill the church. Instead of seeking to be relevant to the world, only to be left wondering why the world has influence over the church, we should seek to live into our purpose, and to do it with meaning.
I close with a quote from John Eddins, my professor of systematic theology. He was lecturing a group of aspiring young ministers when he told us, “You students will get out there in those big churches and fill ‘em up with people. The offering plates will be running over and your preaching will make ‘em swoon. But you just remember this: If they run like hogs to slop, you ain’t preaching the gospel.”
That didn’t seem important to me at 25. But it sure has meaning to me after 20 years in the ministry.
Gary Long is pastor of First Baptist Church in Gaithersburg, Md.