by Chris Horst | May 13, 2019 | Blog |
Since publishing Rooting for Rivals last year, three leaders weighed in with their perspective on the same concepts. There’s no evidence these leaders have actually read the book. But, they each offer a unique vantage point on the topic and make a compelling case for open-handed, generous leadership.
“The Norwegian Alpine skiing team takes it even further. At the Olympics, the skiers who race first share a course report by radio with their teammates, giving them tips on how to handle the slopes and turns. This kind of collaboration isn’t supposed to happen in skiing or running. They’re individual sports: success is zero-sum. If I want to win, I should do everything in my power to make sure they lose. But these elite athletes understand something that’s true in every walk of life: Friendly competition can expand the overall “win” pie and enhance your performance.”
“Books sell better in bookstores than they sell in butcher shops. In a bookstore, surrounded by all the competition, a book is in the right place to be seen, compared and ultimately purchased and read… It’s tempting indeed to shy away from organizing a panel, a conference or a trade show where you can see and be seen right next to those that seek to solve problems for those that are listening. But now that information flows more freely than ever, that’s your fear talking, not an actual strategy for somehow fooling people into believing they don’t have a choice.”
- After George H.W. Bush died on November 30, 2018, a letter he handwrote to Bill Clinton made the rounds. The letter was an “artifact of political humility” and an example worth emulating | December 1, 2018:
“Dear Bill,
When I walked into this office just now I felt the same sense of wonder and respect that I felt four years ago. I know you will feel that, too. I wish you great happiness here. I never felt the loneliness some Presidents have described. There will be very tough times, made even more difficult by criticism you may not think is fair. I’m not a very good one to give advice; but just don’t let the critics discourage you or push you off course. You will be our President when you read this note. I wish you well. I wish your family well. Your success now is our country’s success. I am rooting hard for you.
Good luck—
George
by Chris Horst | Mar 22, 2019 | Blog |
“Why did you sabotage me at the board meeting?!”
As I bundled up my family to depart from a church potluck, an angry member of our church leadership team confronted me. In full earshot of everyone leaving the building, he let me have it. His confrontation confounded me.
I convinced him we should move the conversation outside. Not to start a fistfight, but because he was accosting me about a private meeting in a public setting. When he cooled down, I assured him my comments and questions at the board meeting were not directed at him. I didn’t even understand how he thought they might be about him. But in his perspective, everything anyone did or said in his company was always and exclusively about him. It was my first run-in with a bonafide narcissist.
Sadly, we seem to be entering a golden age of narcissism. Whether in Washington D.C., Hollywood, or Silicon Valley, ego is king. If recent evangelical leaders’ moral failures should teach us one thing it is that the pervasiveness of unbridled self-pride isn’t just an issue outside the church–it’s a Christian problem too. These leadership crises create an opportunity for us to better understand narcissism and identify how we allow it to burgeon in our communities and within our hearts.
In Toughest People to Love, Dr. Chuck DeGroat writes, “While manifesting power, superiority, cynicism about failure, and a need to control, deep down narcissists cannot fail–in their work, relationships, or friendships. Underneath their powerful and impressive exteriors lies a deep insecurity”
Narcissists, DeGroat says–and, more acutely, people with a diagnosable narcissistic personality disorder–are often charmers. They can woo and wow themselves into positions of authority and leadership, particularly in the absence of strong, healthy leaders. Whether in politics, business, churches, or nonprofits, narcissists hunger for the spotlight–and often get it.
As I’ve read the analyses of recently defrocked megachurch pastors’ stories, it’s unsurprising the central role narcissism plays. Narcissism often hides behind false, albeit convincing, humility. If there is any connecting theme through these leaders’ collapses–from Noble to Driscoll to MacDonald to Hybels–it is pride, narcissist’s root vice.
As vices go, pride is perhaps the most infamous. C.S. Lewis described pride as the “utmost evil.” John Cassian, an original author of the list of Seven Deadly Sins, wrote early in the fifth century that pride “reigns over” the other vices as the “queen of sins.” South African minister, Andrew Murray, once wrote, pride is the “root of every sin and evil” and humility the “root of every virtue.” Pride is not a vice. It’s the vice.
Pride ensnares all of us in the belief that we sit at the center of our universe and narcissists give us a magnifying glass on pride. As David Brooks writes in The Road to Character:
“Psychologists have a thing called the narcissism test. They read people statements and ask if the statements apply to them. Statements such as “I like to be the center of attention… I show off if I get the chance because I am extraordinary… Somebody should write a biography about me.” The median narcissism score has risen 30 percent in the last two decades. Ninety-three percent of young people score higher than the middle score just twenty years ago.”
My millennial peers in the self-esteem generation grew up hearing how very special we are. The loudest messages we’ve heard are to look within yourself and follow your passion.
To fight pride, we must not only confront the lies we hold within, but also the lies all around us. Sixteen hundred years ago, Augustine wrote, “The top 3 most essential virtues for a Christian are: humility, humility, and humility.” Today, these words have perhaps never been more true. As followers of Jesus, we must grow in how we cultivate and celebrate this essential virtue in our lives and in our communities.
My church run-in diffused as quickly as it started. Confused, I drove home wishing I had better tools to respond to both the situation and the person. These difficult personalities create drama with ease. Given the ascent of narcissism in our culture, we should plan to experience a lot of it. To resist narcissism inside us and around us, DeGroat writes, two strategies give us a good starting point: Model vulnerability and cultivate honest community.
“Christians living as a cruciform community, shaped by Christ’s life and death, challenge the arrogant pride of the narcissist,” DeGroat writes. “For, in many respects, the narcissistic personality is antithetical to a cruciform Christian life.”
Only when we are both vulnerable and honest in the context of a Christ-honoring and trusted community, narcissism’s onslaught can be dulled.
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Photo by Kane Reinholdtsen on Unsplash
by Chris Horst | Jan 29, 2019 | Blog |
There is perhaps no place the spirit of competition runs more rampant than on college campuses. From college sports’ rivalries to favored fraternities or sororities to the alumni swag we proudly wear—we feel deeply about our schools. This spirit of competition affects even Christian college ministries: Organizations span the confines of evangelicalism: InterVarsity, Cru, Navigators, CCO, Veritas Forum, RUF, and YoungLife are a few of the most prominent, among many more.
Invite leaders of any of these organizations to talk about their organizations and it won’t take long till they start contrasting their models and strategies. In a not-very-subtle manner, they will describe all the ways they employ a smarter approach than their rival organizations. There are helpful and constructive aspects to competition. Healthy relationships with peers can challenge us toward greater effectiveness. And, it is appropriate for us to articulate our unique organizational distinctiveness.
But to what end? Is our mission as followers of Jesus to grow our organizations or to grow God’s Kingdom? And what exactly are we afraid of? Do we believe God’s resources are limited? That there’s only so much to go around?
Over the last few years, several of the largest campus ministry organizations sensed God inviting them toward a more collaborative posture. These leaders believe their shared mission of sharing the love of Christ on all our country’s college campuses supersedes all their individual agendas.
Led by InterVarsity and Cru–and joined by 30 other collegiate ministries–this new venture has been dubbed “Every Campus.”
“The goal is… ‘zero campuses without an expression of a student ministry by 2025,” said Mark Gauthier, executive director for Cru’s US campus ministry. “It’s not about Cru, InterVarsity. It’s not about who gets to take credit for it,’ he added. ‘It’s about reaching the students and professors of this country.’”
On the Every Campus site, they invite everyone passionate about college students in this country to get involved, aggregating the reach of InterVarsity and Cru (for now) and soon populating the data from dozens of other ministries that have joined them. The Every Campus endeavor is in its infancy, focused first on recruiting followers of Jesus to pray for all 5,000 college campuses in this country. But who knows where it might go from here?
Like the new Bible translation collaboration, Every Campus points to a fresh wave of Christian ministries pursuing a mission beyond the boundaries of any one organization. This is good news for these organizations, for their leaders, and for our public witness to our increasingly skeptical neighbors.
“The glory that you have given me I have given to them, that they may be one even as we are one, I in them and you in me, that they may become perfectly one, so that the world may know that you sent me and loved them even as you loved me.” – Jesus | John 17:22-23
by Chris Horst | Nov 20, 2018 | Blog |
Our daughter, Juni, nuzzles deeply into her handknit yellow blanket each time I lift her into her crib. Whether naptime or bedtime—and many roadtrips in-between—her “banky” is her constant companion. Our friend Gwen surprised us with the blanket, bundled in a simple ribbon, a few weeks after Juni arrived. Gwen, a recent retiree, and acquaintance from our church did not tell us she was working on it before she gave it to us rather matter-of-factly.
“I make these blankets for new babies in our church and I made one for Juni,” Gwen shared when she handed the treasure to us. The blanket is a reminder of Gwen’s generosity. But even more, the blanket reminds us of the practical provision of our church.
According to Pew research, the percentage of Americans who place a great deal of trust in the Church has been cut in half over the last 45 years—from 43% to 20%. During that same period, those who place very little trust in the Church has more than tripled—from 7% to 24%. It’s not undeserved. There are scores of valid reasons Americans grow increasingly distrustful of religious people and our institutions.
In this new religious landscape, most of my Coloradan neighbors are unconvinced they should attend church rather than indulge on Sunday brunches and backcountry camping trips. Colorado is one of the least-churched states, with just one in four Coloradans attending religious services regularly. The mountains lure hikers in warm weather and skiers in the cold. The sun and snow beckon more alluringly than the pews and praise bands. Today, churchgoing in Colorado is more of a surprise than an assumption.
Pragmatically—beyond the sacramental and theological reasons I believe in Church—I cannot imagine how we could survive without our church. Since joining our church ten years ago as fresh newlyweds, my wife and I have welcomed four biological children into our family and fostered seven more. And we would be adrift if not for the steady support from our church family.
I don’t know the religious commitments of the founders of mealtrain.com, but they are doing the good Lord’s work. When each new child has joined our family, friends from church established a Meal Train, inviting our church friends, acquaintances, and even quasi-strangers from our small church to give us meals. These meals have been a lifeline over the last month since the arrival of our fourth, baby Mack.
For months into the lives of our new babies, lasagna trays, Indian takeout platters, and bountiful salads show up on our doorstep. They always arrive, it seems, at just the right time. While rocking a new baby in one arm and wrangling feisty toddlers with the other, these meals allow us to easily get food on the table. Sometimes these gift-bearing guests join us for dinner, but more often they stop in to say hello, kiss the cheeks of the new baby, and leave us with warm food ready to-be-dished-up for our growing hoard of hungry children.
When we sit at the table and enjoy the meal prepared for us by our church family (or their favorite takeout chef), we are more than just grateful for our church. We partake in the generosity of our church, feeding on their kindness and compassion toward us in those chaotic early months. In our seasons of highest vulnerability, these meals remind us of whose family we are in. Over ten years, dozens upon dozens of meals sustained us, allowing us to hold on a bit more surely to the healthy routine of family dinner, and, to our sanity.
Our non-churchgoing friends recently welcomed a new baby into their home. When our church friends provided them with meals, it came as a surprise. Though Meal Trains certainly exist outside of the Christian church community, it did not seem to in theirs. And, it made me curious as to whether evangelism marketers might consider a different approach. Rather than a kitschy catchphrase, perhaps we should title our tracts: “Free meals for exhausted parents” or “Handknit blankets > Store-bought blankets” or “Suffer the sermon for the casseroles.”
Most new parents have friends. And, they have friends who bring gifts and meals to help them survive those first few months. But what’s remarkable about a healthy church aren’t our friends, but those who are not yet our friends. Almost strangers, they sit at the opposite side of the sanctuary and participate in different corners of our church’s ministry. But because of church, these are strangers-turned-family who show up exactly when we need them to. As the confounding magi with Joseph and Mary, these friends arrive bearing gifts—not of gold and frankincense, of course—but of enchiladas and barbecue.
We are never more evangelistic about our church than when we have a new child in our home. In these exhausting moments, our church is our lifeline, so much it’s hard to not talk about it. In our increasingly self-sufficient, though isolated, Western societies, this practical case for church could do good work for us. Not all new parents are ready for the lectionary, but believe me, they are all ready for a hot meal.
by Chris Horst | Oct 19, 2018 | Blog |
Alli and I love being foster parents. Over the last four years, seven precious children have arrived at our doorstep as the result of some unspeakable hardships they’ve faced.
Two years ago, on a freezing cold Sunday morning in January, a phone call woke me up at 3:30 AM. An almost-3-year-old boy, Sammy, needed a safe place to go. An hour later, a caseworker pulled up in front of our home in a Chevy Suburban. Sammy laid on the backseat, asleep, and I carried him into our home. He stayed asleep until after 9:00 AM the next morning.
At the time, the only thing we knew about Sammy was his name and age. He arrived with only the clothes on his back and a blanket and pillow. We did not even know what language he spoke. When he came out to the kitchen that morning, he had no idea who we were. He experienced the heartache of being ripped away from everything he knew and was waking up in a place completely foreign to him. Sammy was hungry, isolated, and scared. I’ve never known that level of fear. I’ve never felt the things that sweet boy felt. As he scanned the kitchen, we did the only thing we thought might help: We pulled out a chair and dished him up some pancakes.
Photo: Sammy
Both here and across the world, Sammy’s experience is mirrored by so many. For people experiencing these levels of desperation and fear, no amount of job training or long-term development strategies will be all that helpful. There are times in all our lives when we simply need a plate of hot pancakes and a warm bed.
I wonder if this desperation is what Israel felt when God freed them from slavery in Egypt. Yes, life in Egypt was terribly hard. But life in the wilderness was terrifying. Like Sammy and many of our neighbors, God’s people in the wilderness felt instability and hunger and they were isolated and scared. As the Jewish people escape generations of captivity in Egypt, they escape their chain not into the Promised Land, but into the barren wilderness.
Even though God performed miracle after miracle, the people of Israel did what humans do: They forgot. They forgot God’s provision and complain that though they are no longer slaves, they will die of thirst. So God provides water for them to drink. Then, hunger sets in.
“Would that we had died by the hand of the LORD in the land of Egypt, when we sat by the meat pots and ate bread to the full, for you have brought us out into this wilderness to kill this whole assembly with hunger.” (Exodus 16:3)
Now, it’s easy to beat Israel up for their tone. From my vantage point, their persistent fearfulness is equal parts maddening and confounding. Hadn’t God just deployed legions of frogs and locusts, turned river water into blood, and turned daytime to night? You don’t think he can keep you fed?
But if we see them compassionately, as God absolutely did, our perspective changes. These freed slaves were desperately afraid. They were isolated and homeless. Like Sammy arriving in our home, Israel faced a scary new world. But God responds in love, “Behold, I am about to rain bread from heaven for you… and in the morning you shall see the glory of the LORD.” (Exodus 16:4,6)
As always, God comes through on his promise. God does something miraculous and rains bread from heaven. “And when the dew had gone up, there was on the face of the wilderness a fine, flake-like thing, fine as frost on the ground.” (Exodus 16:14)
Manna was unexplainable to those who first tasted it—and even more mysterious to read about today. But one thing we do know is this provision of manna was not dependent upon the attitudes or beliefs of the recipients. Manna was a daily reminder of God’s unconditional love. No matter how little they trusted, no matter how far their hearts wandered, no matter what… the manna kept showing up. Every morning, for decades, God demonstrated no-strings-attached generosity. Until recently, though, I never considered why it stopped. I never really thought about what caused God’s daily provision of bread to stay in heaven.
It wasn’t an imprecise day.
“The people of Israel ate the manna forty years,” we read, “till they came to a habitable land. They ate the manna till they came to the border of the land of Canaan.” (Exodus 16:35)
“And the manna ceased the day after they ate of the produce of the land. And there was no longer manna for the people of Israel, but they ate of the fruit of the land of Canaan that year.” (Joshua 5:12)
It wasn’t like there was a weaning period where God provided half manna distributions. It was there each morning until it wasn’t. After providing manna for 14,600 consecutive weeks, the manna dried up. Theologian Jen Wilkin writes, “God provided manna supernaturally until the day they no longer needed it.”
God’s compassion did not stop when the manna dried up, but it did look different than it did before. For a specific time, God did give his people manna. God also gave His people land, and with the land, an invitation to put their hands to work and cultivate it, to provide for what their families needed. This, not the manna, was what God’s people longed for and prayed for—to have a place and a livelihood to call their own. And God invites us to do the same, showing us how we should care for each other.
God’s people in the wilderness and in the Promised Land enjoyed the dignity of participating in God’s good provision. As they harvested manna and later harvested the bounty of their fields, they worked and tasted the gifts of their Creator. And God called them to extend that same provision to their neighbors. In their lives and ours, sometimes that generosity looks like manna–unmerited, no-strings-attached, warm pancakes compassion to those who find themselves in the wilderness and in need of help. At other times, that generosity looks like the gift of the Promised Land–opportunity and investment availed to those ready to provide for themselves and their families.
