The Heroes of My Story

I re-read my book Fundamorphosis: How I Left Fundamentalism But Didn't Lose My Faith over the last couple of days. I had gotten the proof copy in the mail and wanted to go through it, looking one last time for typos and mistakes. I found several. It's an imperfect book. I'm an imperfect person.

What struck me as I re-read my own story was the people along the way who have made such a difference in my life. They are the heroes of my story. They stood by me. They listened. They gave me counsel. They didn't always agree with me, but they let me be myself.

I thought today I would pay tribute to some of them. Here's to the heroes of my story.


Ted Boykin
More than a professor, Ted was my friend through my formative college years. He was one of the first people to encourage me to be myself while simultaneously encouraging me to be better than I was. The amazing thing about Ted is that I know that there are - literally - thousands of other guys out there who feel exactly the same way about him as I do.



Dr. Rembert Byrd Carter
For thirty years worth of students who went through Baptist Bible College, Dr. Carter served as our intellectual and theological authority. He taught us as much as he scared us. My relationship with Dr. Carter was complicated. We didn't always see eye-to-eye, and I think I disappointed him in a lot of ways. But he loved me and listened to me and encouraged me. I still miss him.



Stanley Grenz
I never had the chance to meet Stan Grenz. I know him only through his books. He has so influenced how I think that I named this blog after him. Those who are familiar with Grenz will recognize his influence throughout my book. Grenz was one of the first writers I encountered who took postmodernism seriously and sought to develop a faith expression of Christian theology in a world that had changed. He changed my life.



Aaron Marshall
Bryan Johnson
When I started to admit that I was undergoing a fundamorphosis, Aaron and Bryan were the ones to whom I turned. Aaron had been my best friend since college and Bryan had quickly become a close friend when we all pastored churches in Michigan. When I expressed to them my doubts and my dreams, they didn't laugh at me or dismiss me out of hand. They encouraged, supported, questioned, and dreamed too. I don't tell them enough how much they have meant to me. I would not be where I am or who I am without these two friends.






Brian McLaren
Many years ago now, the doubts I had about fundamentalism sent me into a deep spiritual depression. My path to recovery involved reading A New Kind of Christian by Brian McLaren. I have written about it before, but suffice it to say, Brian saved my faith.





Russ Warner
When I was a teenager, I was hyper-sensitive to the hypocrisy I observed all around me in my church and Christian school. My consistent reaction to the Christian leaders in my life was, If that's what Christians are like, I don't want anything to do with them. Until I met Russ Warner, Boss. He modelled for me a kind of faith expressed in love that was magnetic. He made me think, If that's what Christians are like, I want in. He taught me how to follow Jesus, and I'll be always grateful for it.



Vanessa Ryerse
There is not enough paper in the world for me to write about all that Vanessa has meant to me during my fundamorphosis. She has walked with me every step of the way. She has given me the space to struggle and doubt. She has given voice to my fears. She has been willing to make enormous sacrifices for my dreams. She is the best companion and friend I could imagine having for this journey.



How about you - who are the heroes of your story?

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Hope for the Depressed Pastor

On his blog today, Thom Rainer sites a Lifeway Research survey of pastors about depression and loneliness. What they found is that depression among the pastoral population is very common.

I didn't need a survey to know this. I know this from experience.

I am often lonely and depressed as a pastor. Recently, Vanessa and I did some research into our personalities. We learned that people with my personality take criticism so personally that it can actually be paralyzing. It's not that I don't think criticism is helpful or valid. I do. But when criticism comes, it triggers something in me that makes me want to climb under the covers and stay there.

But when I think back on the most depressed and lonely I have ever been, it wasn't necessarily criticism that sent me in that direction. It was the evolution of my theology that put me out of sync with my fundamentalist church upbringing.

I was pastoring a fundamentalist church in Michigan before we moved to Arkansas to start Vintage. Through a series of events - most notably, turning 30 and preaching through Genesis - I realized that I felt like I was wasting my life and spinning my wheels. I was faking it on Sunday mornings. I was pretending to be excited. I was pretending to believe the pat answers of fundamentalism. I was pretending to have all the answers.

This lack of authenticity sent me into a spiritual and emotional spiral that I didn't pull out of for months. I credit the patience of Vanessa, the words of people like Brian McLaren, and the renewed hope of doing something risky like starting Vintage for helping me climb out of my hole.

There are a lot of reasons why we talk about authenticity so much at Vintage. I think, for instance, that faith requires authenticity. In other words, we can't be Christians unless we are real. But I also push Vintage to be a place where people can be themselves because that's what I need. When we started Vintage, I was fond of saying that I needed to pastor a church that I would go to even if I wasn't be paid. I have to be authentic so that I don't go back to that very dark place.

I've got a lot of sympathy for depressed pastors. I've been. I'm sure I'll be there again. Let us hold unswervingly to the hope that we profess. And let us hold out hope for one another.

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The Best Week Ever, or What to Say When You Meet Your Heroes

Last week was one that I will not soon forget. I had to be in California for work, which normally means that my coworker and I will try to catch a baseball game. This time, though, we decided to get tickets to see Conan O'Brien. Unfortunately, Conan tapes his show in the afternoon, and there was no way we'd make it in time from the home office to LA to use our tickets. I was sorely disappointed. Until I saw someone post on Facebook about Rob Bell doing an event from the Viper Room in West Hollywood. No to baseball. No to Conan. Yes to Rob Bell.

We got to the Viper Room and spent some time laughing at all the guys who looked like us - slightly chubby with trendy glasses. It was like we had come home. Right at 7pm, Rob took the stage. He spoke for over an hour and then answered questions. Mine was the last one of the evening. You can watch the video of Still Painting here. After he got done speaking, Rob hung out and talked to people, including me and my friends. I told him about how we give away Velvet Elvis on our church website, and I told him that he was one of the patron saints of our church community. I asked him to come and speak at Vintage sometime. We'll see if we can make that happen. He was funny and gracious, and I hope it's not the last time I get to interact with him.

Rob is a controversial guy. No one denies his unbelievable talent as a communicator. He is enrapturing when he speaks. His books are conversation and engaging. His videos - Vanessa calls them a cross between a sermon and music video - are mesmerizing. But Rob is quite polarizing. His book, Love Wins, got him labeled a heretic by many. My posts about Love Wins are among the most trafficked on this little blog. People either love or hate Rob.

I am in the love category. Rob, through his work at Mars Hill Bible Church, has helped me to see how a church can create an environment in which people can bring their doubts and questions. He has modeled a way and thereby helped me to be a better practitioner of the kind of faith that is less focused on the theological arguments of the past and more engaged in helping people to wrestle with the questions of today. Short of Butterfly Theology's arrival on the scene, no book has better summed up the kind of church Vintage is trying to be than Velvet Elvis. I am who I am as a pastor and Vintage is what it is as a church because of Rob Bell.

I was on a bit of a high on Wednesday and Thursday, pumped up and excited about having spent just a couple of minutes with Rob. Thursday began with the mixed feelings of excitement that I would head home at the end of the day but also dread that I would be on a red-eye all night before finally making it back to Arkansas on Friday morning. I got through the day and boarded the plane at 10:30 pm PT with the realization that I was not getting upgraded to first class, which meant that I would spend the next several hours cramped in coach and probably unable to sleep. I was texting Vanessa about my complaints when Brian McLaren walked down the aisle of the plane.

Brian McLaren is kind of the godfather of the emergent church. He's the author of many books. He is not as well-known as Rob Bell, but he is equally as controversial. He has set forth a roadmap whereby the church can leave behind its intertwinedness with modernity and engage more fully with postmodernity. In Brian's case, this has meant an embracing of interfaith dialog and science, and it has led him to positions on hell, homosexuality, and politics that make him not-so-popular with evangelicals.

But I love him. When I was going through a deep crisis of faith, it was Brian's book A New Kind of Christian that saved me. Without Brian, I doubt I would have left fundamentalism. Without Brian, I think my faith would have died rather than emerged. Without Brian, Vintage Fellowship would not exist. Without Brian, Butterfly Theology would be a very short book. He is my hero. And he too is a patron saint of Vintage.

And he was sitting three rows behind me on the plane. When there was a lull in the passengers boarding, I went back to talk to him. I asked the guy sitting next to him if we could change seats so that I could talk with Brian. Brian suggested we talk when we got to Atlanta. That was a better idea than me chattering away while Brian tried to sleep on the red-eye. I returned to my seat and had a hard time getting to sleep.

When we arrived in Atlanta, Brian and I connected in the terminal and headed to Dunkin Donuts for coffee and breakfast. We spent over an hour talking about a whole host of things. We talked about the future of the emergent church and seminaries and how to respond to critics and how Vanessa's theological transformation mirrored my own and mutual friends. Brian could not have been more gracious to me. He listened and asked questions and wanted to know my story. He offered me counsel and affirmed me in my journey. I felt the same way about meeting him as I did about Rob - I certainly hope this is not the last time our paths cross.

I hope that Brian is a words-of-affirmation guy because I showered him with them. Thinking of how much they have impacted me, I wanted to just yell titles of his books at him - GENEROUS ORTHODOXY!!  THE STORY WE FIND OURSELVES IN!!  THE LAST WORD AND THE WORD AFTER THAT!!  A NEW KIND OF CHRISTIANITY!!  But I was able to restrain myself. I did tell him that in a very real and literal way, he had saved my faith. I told him that he had been my mentor ever since I left fundamentalism. I told him that I had learned to have an irenic spirit from him. We talked about me sending him a copy of Butterfly Theology and how we could get him to Vintage to speak to our community. My fingers are crossed.

In the last ten years, two people have impacted my life, my thinking, my ministry, and my theology more than any others. Those two people are Brian McLaren and Rob Bell. They are my heroes. In the span of four days, I met both of them.

I fully expect to meet Bono any day now.

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