Scars

There is nothing
to do but learn and wait, return to work
on what remains. Seed will sprout in the scar.
Though death is in the healing, it will heal.
Wendell Berry, The Slip

Lessons When We Are Left

I had a mentor in pastoral ministry.  He was an older pastor who took me under his wing and trained me.  I served as his associate for many years, and I loved it. I will always be grateful for the risk he took on me and for the investment he made in my life; giving an unknown, young seminarian like me a chance. 

Near the end of his career, he wrote a letter that he shared with me.  It was entitled Lessons When We are Left.  The letter included thoughts on why people leave your church and advice on how to manage things when they do.  I read the letter every few years as a reminder and to glean what I can from its wisdom. The letter ends with this:

Say goodbye, mourn the loss of their fellowship and move on…Sometimes the separation is accompanied by a truthful explanation and the separation is amicable.  At other times the separation is not explained or justified truthfully and the separation is uneasy and strained. Occasionally, the departure is mean-spirited and people go away mad, swinging and lashing out as they go.  But remember, Nate, whether people stay or they go, those who remain need a pastor to shepherd them through the grief and the loss and the work God has called all of you to do.  Try to let it go as soon as you can and push on.

Sadly, I’ve had to rely on this wisdom more than I originally expected, especially after our church transitioned away from the modern evangelical, egalitarian and mainline sensibilities from which we originally came.  Ever since the COVID lockdowns of 2020, I’ve been leading our congregation toward greater biblical fidelity and courage. In doing so I’ve learned that most people prefer something else. They appreciate palliative care over the prophetic edge and slack in the joints over tight conformity.  

Many church goers see the church in transactional terms rather than covenantal. When they don’t get what they want, they move on to other churches where they can receive the goods and services they pay for and come to expect.  My mentor wrote an essay about it once. He referred to the phenomenon as “The Church as Giant Eagle,” Giant Eagle being the big regional grocery store in our tri-state area. He observed,

We are witnessing the commoditization of the divine. The profile of a church worthy of attendance by some folks is endless. When all the boxes are not ticked on the checklist, and every need of every family member is not met, then other churches exist to satisfy one’s shopping needs.

I’ve leaned on the wisdom of this article too over the years. Both the letter and the essay provided helpful advice from someone who regularly espoused the goodness of a long-term pastorate in one place.  That’s why I was so shocked when one Sunday, my mentor walked out of our church during a worship service, never to return.  

A few years prior he retired, and I became the senior pastor.  At retirement we conferred upon him the honor of “Pastor Emeritus.” I told him I was delighted for him to stick around so long as he was delighted to be around.  We both seemed happy.  Things went well for a good eighteen months, and then COVID hit and everything changed. 

Over the years my mentor would often refer to the men of Issachar, “men who had understanding of the times, to know what Israel ought to do” (1 Chronicles 12:32).  Leaders, I was taught, are men who read the times and make wise changes when necessary. The expectation for change was even built into our church’s vision statement, “As time goes on and God imparts new and additional visions for what He wants the church to become the [statement] will surely be modified and augmented. We view this prospect with anticipation and hope.”

Putting that thesis to the test, I’ve learned that, by and large, changes in the church are not welcome. The status quo is welcomed and “understanding the times” should be reserved for discerning felt needs within the congregation and then meeting them. 

COVID clearly revealed the times we are in and we had to make changes. We started new things and we brought some things (in the spirit of Henry Cloud) to a necessary end.  When you do that, you quickly learn where people’s loyalties reside and where their priorities are.  Some rise to the occasion and help lead the new vision, others, sadly, make their way to Giant Eagle.  

Many have left the church since COVID, both in our church and churches throughout the country. And each departure by a member is an act of dismemberment that does damage and leaves a scar, in the pastor and in the congregation that’s been left behind.   

Wendell Berry and the Wisdom of Scars

Wendell Berry is a Kentucky farmer, poet and essayist.  He’s written perceptively over the years about the land and our place in it.  His wisdom about the farm and farm life are instructive for the church and inform a healthy imagination for church members.    

In his essay entitled Damage, Berry talks about how he wanted to dig a pond on a steep wooded hillside to make another pasture for his animals.  Berry explains that he hired a man with a bulldozer to dig his pond by clearing away the trees and cutting into the hill on the upper side, piling the loosened dirt on the lower side.

Initially the pond looked like a success.  Water was gathering in the hole and the cattle were already starting to assemble. To heal the exposed ground, Berry fertilized it and sowed it with grass and clover.  But this peaceful and pastoral scene was not long for the farm.  Berry shares how the fall and winter were wetter than usual, and the ground grew heavy and soft. 

Soon a large slice of the woods floor on the upper side of the pond broke free and slid down, right into the pond.  And like that, the pond was gone and the land was scarred. Berry writes, 

“The trouble was a familiar one: too much power, too little knowledge. The fault was mine.”

In the end, this pond endeavor damaged the farm rather than improve it. It left a giant scar on the landscape of Berry’s property, one that would take years to recover.  Berry spends the later part of his essay sharing the lessons he learned from the pond incident.  He reflects on the dangers of excesses power used to move things around at will, and the exercise of freedom that tries to shape the world according to our desires. 

Like Berry’s pond, people often engage their freedom of choice and exercise their powers of preference by bulldozing a trail and walking away from community.  They leave a giant hole and do damage to the community that is left behind.  Such a community will eventually heal from the damage, but they will be left with scars.  But according to Berry, those scars still serve a purpose.  

Scars become signs and witnesses, they are educators for the community left behind.  The scars turn to signposts that guide the community toward wisdom and remind those who remain how to best steward the land.  

When the road of excess has reached the palace of wisdom it is a healed wound, a long scar. Culture preserves the map and the records of past journeys so that no generation will permanently destroy the route.

Future generations must learn from the failures of those who selfishly walk away.  The church is culture, it is a holy culture, and the church must preserve the map of faithfulness for future generations.  Every time someone “ghosts” the church they leave a scar in the community that pastors and parents can point to and teach their children by saying, “Son, daughter, look at this scar. We don’t ever want to do this; it hurts the church.”     

According to Berry,

 “A man with a machine and inadequate culture-such as I was when I made my pond-is a pestilence. He shakes more than he can hold.”

Today Christians have unprecedented freedom to “play the field” and attend church or not, join a church or not, and change churches when they want.  Far too many Christians climb up on their bulldozers and clear a path that leads to something new, or to something more familiar, or to something more comfortable.  Those who leave rarely understand what they are doing or have a full sense of the damage they are causing.  But God in his grace will take that damage and make scars in the land that lead to a better future.

Certainly, it was the scars in the body of Christ that led Thomas to better discipleship. “He said to them, “Unless I see in his hands the mark of the nails, and place my finger into the mark of the nails, and place my hand into his side, I will never believe”” (John 20:25).  Having doubted the resurrection, Thomas was well on his way out the door.  He was unsettled by the events of the crucifixion, he was jumpy, and he was starting to get itchy feet.  Thomas was focused on the pain of his present moment; he had little understanding and no vision for the future.  

Thomas was on the cusp of a bad decision when Jesus appeared and invited him to look and to learn. “Put your finger here, and see my hands; and put out your hand, and place it in my side. Do not disbelieve, but believe.” Thomas answered him, “My Lord and my God!” Jesus said to him, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed”” (John 20:27–29).

The church today does not see the resurrected Christ, as Thomas did, but we still see the scars of our Savior.  We see the scars when the gospel confronts us and calls us to take up our cross and follow him. We see the scars in worship through clear and convicted preaching of the word.   We see the scars at the Lord’s Table as we receive the bread of his body broken and the cup of his blood outpoured.  

We see the scars when the body of Christ assembles and there is a giant hole in the pew where our prodigal brother or sisters used to sit, before they left for a far-off country.  All these scars are lessons we hold onto. They settle us into the body of Christ and keep us from further damage.  As Berry recognizes,

“The more local and settled the culture, the better it stays put, the less the damage. It is the foreigner whose road of excess leads to a desert.”

We like to think of the church as a home for exiles, when it may actually be filled with foreigners who have left their previous church depleted.  They come and think to themselves, “You know a pond would really look nice here.” Such visitors should be encouraged to go back and heal their homeland.

The Wounded Healer

In Henri Nouwen’s little book, The Wounded Healer, Nouwen explores the spiritual purpose behind the wounds that are left behind.  Nouwen thinks of scars pedagogically. Scars are educators.  Wounds illumine by confronting our ignorance and the hardness of our heart.  Those who blaze a trail out of their church and away from their community to find something more accommodating are those who are unwilling to receive a proper education.  They leave the clean-up from their damage to others and deem themselves unworthy of a scarred (sacred) life.

But those who are willing to endure the scars and enter the school of brokeness are those who may be healed. They are those who truly enjoy freedom and power. Nouwen writes,

Perhaps the main task of the minister is to prevent people from suffering for the wrong reasons. Many people suffer because of the false supposition on which they have based their lives. That supposition is that there should be no fear or loneliness, no confusion or doubt. But these sufferings can only be dealt with creatively when they are understood as wounds integral to our human condition.  Therefore ministry is a very confrontational service. It does not allow people to live with illusions of immortality and wholeness. It keeps reminding others that they are mortal and broken, but also that with the recognition of this condition, liberation starts. 

Wisdom suggests that when people leave, there is nothing to do but get back to work. Sow your seed in tears trusting that new seeds will sprout in the scar and the community will heal and one day rejoice (Psalm 126). Blessed are those who have seen the scars and still believe.  

Photo by Marek Novotný on Unsplash