The recent bombings at the Boston Marathon have many of us searching to make sense of suffering.  Times such as these betray many questions about God and faith, and as I watched CNN the other day my thoughts went orbital to places like… “Why would someone take out their anger on innocent lives?” Or,  “How will people deal with such loss?” and even, “How do I even begin to pray?”

Not to mention events like the sudden loss of a loved one. The Loss of limbs.  Even the loss of safety, which, for now, affects the thousands (maybe millions) who experienced this event. Many will never look at a stray backpack the same way again.  It’s kind of like that feeling many New Yorkers get when they peep low flying planes over Manhattan.  And it’s also the all too familiar experience of many of our fellow human citizens around the world, in many other countries.

The rules of engagement have changed and war has grown complex.  War is increasingly  like a computer game and more intel means we stay “ahead”, somehow.  But for all of one’s ability to anticipate terror that nagging feeling of uncertainty can still remain.  Many of us know the feeling well.  It’s the “you never know” feeling the one that that reminds us of how uncertainty just simply sucks.

But what if faith and uncertainty were actually compatible?  What if uncertainty was an ingredient of faith?  What if the heavier the dose of uncertainty, the more faith and trust we would need?   If so, then faith would once again be faith.  Faith would once again become a leap that says,

I will not live paralyzed by fear.

Life is still beautiful when you look at the details of the fabric.

Suffering does not get to have the last word.

Christ’s love is still present in this world.

There are people who still run toward explosions to save others.

There are people who have lost limbs who attest to the beauty of being alive…

Creation is waiting and groaning for heaven and earth to fully merge.

Faith, hope and love still trump uncertainty, and provide fear with much less fodder to control our lives.

Real faith has the courage to face the crappinness that life throws its way – to preserve our stubborn eyes that desperately search for God’s activity in the world today.

Faith is about our trust in God not our ability to control life’s events.

So we continue to pray as an act of defiance knowing that things are not as they should be but they can change.

Selah…

My faith draws me to Jesus because of the humanity he embodied.  Truth be told – I’m not sure if I would take my faith as seriously if Jesus was not the face of the Trinity.  It’s also why I think when we preach about good news and omit the incarnation – God becoming human – we miss the mark, big time.  I’m drawn to Jesus’s humanity.  The most human moments he had, hanging out with children, sitting by a well because his feet were tired, and knowing how to have a good time at a wedding in his hometown.  He would break tradition in so many ways, even saving the best wine for last.  After-party anyone?

The gospels are good at showing the human moments.  Jesus crying before Jerusalem because people somehow missed the point of his arrival.  Getting angry and turning over the tables of the money changers in the great temple, because the religious and political seat of Jerusalem was no longer serving its function   Jesus did not approach these situations well composed, or, as we say in our culture, “never let them see you sweat.” He lost his composure and decorum for the things that mattered most.

There’s a strength in vulnerability and someone who practices it isn’t afraid to lose their composure.  Just ask Desmond Tutu when he chaired the Truth & Reconciliation Commission after Apartheid in South Africa.

Being vulnerable is not just about being self deprecating.  Many of us are good at poking fun at ourselves.  Being vulnerable communicates much more. It says it’s okay to doubt our faith, feel afraid, feel inadequate, make mistakes, be affected, knowing that somehow in the mystery of things, God’s strength can be made perfect” in our “stuff”.  We let others know we’re merely human with all of its inherent brilliance and frailty.

Vulnerability is not a public therapy session either.  Vulnerability does not come from the need to self disclose (as we do on social networks) for the sake of self-disclosing.  But it seeks a redemptive end, a telos.  In our common weakness, we believe in a God who reconstitutes us through grace, with the cross turning power over on its head.  Christ the vulnerable, the naked, posture wide open, became King through death on a cross, forgiving, and bridging.  And in resurrection reminded his followers that they would need to lead/disciple by proclaiming this very good news.

This is what compels me to follow God.  An embodied faith rooted in frailty, faith and possibility, not a disembodied belief system.

I’ve been a pastor for five short years.  I’ve learned a whole lot in a short time – knowing in some ways what I’m not good at, or, in some cases, knowing what I thought I was good at, but really not.  I’m also helped by a community and a fellowship that has gifted me with room to discover creativity and gifts I didn’t know I had.  It’s awesome to see a whole other side of me emerge forth.

I’m learning how to lead from a place of openness, love and receptivity to God and others through some good mentors in my life. This “open sourced” type of leadership has a solid reference point in Christ’s posture on the cross.  It’s a posture that is counter cultural, and impossible to do unless one is committed to a journey of transformation, and, dare I say, inner brokenness.  We’ll never be good as good as we think we are at this stuff, much less master it, which at the end of the day just sucks.  But I think the gospel really proves that we can really be just like Forrest Gump stumbling around into spaces of goodness and grace anyway.

So here’s what I’m finding:

- Despite good intentions, unconsciously (or not), we still see vulnerability as  weakness
It’s extremely difficult for us to simply, instinctively be open in a way that promotes health, unity, growth and dialog. Yet this affects how we talk about issues of race, sexuality, poverty, theology, etc.  Even when we understand vulnerability intellectually, most of have been  taught by hard knocks, hood life,  culture, family life, human instincts that we need to “man up” because it’s a dog-eat-dog world.  What’s more, when leaders lead this way, people often feel compelled to try to fix you or prescribe therapy.  They don’t often realize that someone is attempting to do this leadership thing in an alternative way.

Leading Open Makes Room
Here’s the counterbalance, I think. People who lead with openness allow they’re distinct giftedness to shine through, while allowing others to bring themselves.  We make room for others to bring their “Type A” into the mix, their ability to catalyze and get stuff done.  Others can bring their slow and steady process.  While still others can bring their keen attention to injustice in the world, and the call for the church to partner with God in making things right.  Still, we make room for others who love to verbally proclaim their faith from the building tops.  We also make room for the thinker, or the skeptic who questions just about everything in the pursuit of an authentic faith, even when mired in NYer cynicism.  I can relate…

We want people to bring themselves not so we can simply say, “hey, you see this, we have a diverse space!” That’s really just insufficient and limited.  We’re open because it encourages others to encounter something, someone beyond them who is working for the good of the world in ways that are beyond us.  That becomes the great apologia for everyone to witness.

Leading open proclaims “I’m not just making room, I’m allowing myself to be transformed by ‘otherness’ as the Great Artisan in heaven pieces me together.”  We then don’t blame others for not conforming to our boxes, or being us.  We instead embrace the tensions that come with people’s own distinctiveness, the path of reconciliation, and the risk and beauty that comes with hope when we lead from an open place.

With our daily cross we lead with arms open wide…We embrace a new type of courage and strength.

Pt. 2 Coming soon…