What I learned on the sabbatical: identity

Last week I began a little blog series on some of the deeper “soul” lessons the Lord worked on in me during the sabbatical. I wrote about how I became aware of a misplaced sense of self-importance as the lead pastor of our church. It turns out that the church really depends on the power and presence of the Lord, not the gifts and presence of the human pastor. This week I want to share with you what He reminded me about identity.

As a pastor, it is extremely easy to have my sense of identity revolve around the tangibles of church life. Particularly attendance. Far too often in the past, my sense of value was tied to how many people had attended services the previous Sunday. And actually, to be more precise, it was never about the number itself. It was always about whether the number was a growing number. Whether the number was 200 or 500, it was about whether it was a larger number than last week, or larger than the same week a year ago. My identity was closely tied to the church growing, and if I perceived that it wasn’t, my heart was in turmoil for the week to come. This was dumb for a number of reasons. One is that it is extremely foolish to base your perception of growth on one week’s attendance number. There are all kinds of variables that might factor into a larger or smaller number, and it will naturally fluctuate throughout the year as a sickness spreads or people are traveling or whatever. In my mind, though, the temptation was to think a smaller attendance was because people hated last week’s sermon. It was because people were rejecting me. It was because they had moved on. Again, very, very foolish and short-sighted! I might be the only one, but I’m guessing if you were to write out some of the lies you’ve believed or been tempted to believe, you might be able to relate. 

Another reason it was dumb was because the concept of church growth can’t be so easily quantified through attendance statistics. Real, biblical growth is about maturity. It’s about increased conformity to the image of Christ. Real church growth is about becoming more and more truly the body of Christ. That may or may not mean larger numbers, more giving, etc. Biblical growth is just harder to measure than those other metrics, which is why many of us pastors mistakenly base our perceptions of growth on them.

My main point in this article, though, is that a reason my thinking was peak dumbness is because even if the church wasn’t growing, my identity should never have been wrapped up in that in the first place. Making church growth foundational to my identity created immense instability in my heart, causing me to vacillate between egotistical pride and despairing insecurity on any given day. That’s something the Lord showed me on the sabbatical.

For four months, I did not preach. I didn’t look at attendance numbers. I was not aware of who was coming or going to The Bridge. I received no feedback from churchgoers. I didn’t even receive any feedback on my writing projects (I tried to get Carolyn to read the chapters of my book and then praise me as the next Tim Keller, but those attempts failed). For four months, it was simply impossible to tie my sense of identity to being a pastor. I couldn’t do it because it wasn’t an option. Instead, I was a child of God, a husband, a father, and that was about it. People we met in Europe were not impressed with me being a pastor. Apparently, evangelical Christians in Europe are often seen as a cult, lumped in with Jehovah’s Witnesses and Mormons, so I guess my job would have marked me out as a cult leader. They weren’t asking “so how many people are part of your cult? Wow, that’s incredible!” Nobody ever asked me how big my church was or whether it was growing. 

And despite all that, I was ok.

I didn’t self-destruct because I wasn’t preaching to high acclaim or watching attendance numbers rise or fall. All those things were stripped away, and actually, I was more than ok. The sabbatical helped me realize that I don’t need to be a pastor in order to be Craig. Yes, it’s what God has called me to in this season and I believe preaching is a gift He’s given me. I’m to use it faithfully and it is a significant way in which I can contribute to the spread of the Gospel. But I’ve come to see that who I am is much more deeply rooted than simply in what I do. Here’s how Paul spoke of his identity in Galatians 2:20: “I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.” I’m loved by God and have been crucified with Christ. That’s who I am. That’s where I need to be rooted. That’s unshakeable, no matter how many people come to church on any given Sunday.

A couple of days ago, I ran into someone at the grocery store who used to attend our church. He said nice things about The Bridge but proceeded to gush about how wonderful the church they’re at now is. That kind of thing used to devastate me. It used to send me into a tailspin. That’s because I took it as a deeply personal rejection. Praise God that in this instance, I walked away grateful for the life this family has experienced at their new church, my identity fully intact.

So the next time I seem to be swelling with pride or crumbling with despair based on attendance numbers, giving numbers, compliment numbers or whatever numbers, feel free to remind me of what I learned on my sabbatical. Old habits die hard, you know?

- Craig