"There is no safe investment. To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken." -CSL

I fear...

I Fear I'm Ordinary, Just Like Everyone ...
By Andrew Schwab
Friday, August 21, 2009

Why do we all want to be such a big deal?

I am wrapping up a long day at the office, commuting home after a satisfying shift of hard, yet rewarding labor.

By “office,” I mean endless highway road, of course.
By “commuting,” I mean driving 28 hours from Minneapolis to Irvine, California.
By “shift” I mean a grueling seven-week tour of the U.S. and Canada which included more than 40 shows.

Exhausted, homesick, yet contemplative, we sit inside our chariot, reflecting on the highlights of yet another string of memories. The high points are not what you might think—it’s not merch sales, moving units, or packed shows. It’s not the buzz of kids that know the words to songs or the night we sounded our very best. It’s not even when we played in cool towns like Montreal or NYC. Don’t get me wrong—All of these things are icing, and definite morale boosters. But when I think back on a trip today it’s not the numbers that stick out in my brain. No, it’s the meaningful, soul-searching, real conversations that are had with people along the way that is the true currency of doing what we do.

The candid confessions and fellowship shared with another band member in the bus.
The prayer given to a hurting soul who was touched by a song you happened to write.
The person who comes to a new place of faith after post-show banter with you.

These are the moments that keep you knowing you are doing something that matters, something that is eternal, and most of all, real.

It’s funny how the most important, life-giving moments are the ones not spent under fluorescent skies. They are the ones that involve very little self-glory.

I didn’t used to feel this way. To be honest, for the longest time no matter how many meaningful things were going on around me, I found no satisfaction in any of it. Because when your treasure is success for success’ sake—or when recognition is your currency—you will never find peace in the things that truly matter. And I was so busy comparing the opportunities of my own career to those around me, always sacrificing the joy of the moment because my eyes were so fixed on climbing to the next level of status.

I missed out on countless tastes of true peace because I was always bent on becoming more...important.

But what makes a person “important” in the eternal sense? Is it simply the recognition of his/her peers, or is it something much greater, yet much more humbling at the same time?

I thought about this throughout our most recent journey. And what brought it to the forefront of my mind even more was when I had the opportunity to speak to others, every night, who were on their own journeys toward meaning. The conversations would go something like this:

“Hey Andrew, I am (insert name here) from (insert band name, Facebook link, clothing company, Christian gameshow here). I was just talking to (insert name drop of relevant Christian celebrity here to make a point of connection) recently, asking them how I can ‘make it,’ and I thought I would talk to you about it as well. Do you think you can give me some advice on how to become successful? Do you think you can (listen, read, peruse, examine, critique, review, etc.) my (CD, 8-track, book, t-shirt, zine, short discertation, etc.) and tell me how I can be successful in (music, writing, youth pastorship, Christian racecar driving, etc.)? Thanks, man. Here’s my email address.”

Many of the conversations I had with people at our shows this summer consisted of someone networking me to promote themselves or their band or their ... you get the idea.

Asking me to give them advice on becoming a celebrity of some sort.

The questions I wanted to ask in return are these: What is wrong with just being you? Do you think being recognized or perceived as important will bring more peace and happiness to your existence?

The honest answer is “yes.” We do think being recognized will bring us more happiness, because we have become a culture obsessed. Obsessed with what? Obsessed with becoming somebodies. We are consumed with self-promotion, the elevation of our own perceptions. The hottest commodity and the ultimate currency in our world today is ...

Fame.

Everyone is in a band. Everyone is fighting to be on TV or reality TV or bizarro TV (also called YouTube). Everyone is pushing a new “ministry” or “revolution” or “brand” or “consciousness.” And everyone wants to be the man. Or woman. Or Christian gameshow host.

We are a culture of indians who are obsessed with becoming chiefs.

Because we think that will bring us happiness.

Now, I know the chief/indian complex about as well as anyone because, well, I have lived it for quite a while now. And I can tell you a few things about what it truly means to become a “somebody.” Here it is, plain and simple:

We are taught by the world around us, beginning in Kindergarten, that recognition from your fellow human being is the ultimate prize in this life. This is reinforced by everyone from our friends to our parents to our teachers to our role models when they tell us, "You are a winner if you are popular. You are great if you stand out above the crowd. You are memorable if, and only if, you do something awe-inspiring."

In other words, you are special only if others talk about you, if you have some sort of fame.

The only problem is that 1% of 1% of us will ever become known, noteworthy, a celebrity of some sorts. So where does that leave the rest of us? Fighting desperately with one another to get the coveted prize, which will always seem to elude us. It means that, at least in the eyes of the world (including the Christian world, it seems), 99.9% will be...meaningless?

Because there is nothing worse than being ordinary.

You had better believe this is a lie, and a big one.

Because there are more than a few holes in this philosophy. What happens when you get the recognition? What does it do to us as people? What about the model who is so beautiful and loved on the outside, but who is an absolute train wreck of eating disorders and drugs on the inside? What about the frontman for the band who falls into debauchery once he finds success? What about the pastor who gives into corruption once his church finds financial blessing? What about Britney? What about MJ?

I could list a ton of examples, but you don’t need me to. Because you have seen it with your own eyes often enough: The recognition we seek will only leads to our destruction when we make it our treasure. Fame leads to pride. Success leads to more temptation. Glory leads to corruption. It seems to me like we weren’t made for these things, that we were constructed to find peace in something else ...

Didn’t someone we know tell us that meaning is found in exactly the opposite approach? Doesn’t the Bible tell us that God chose the things that are not to shame the things that are? Doesn’t it say that God is with the lowly things, the have-nots? Doesn’t it say over and over again that meaning is found in service, and that true peace is found in taking a backseat to those you love?

Yes, it does.

Consider this: Meaning is not found in the acceptance of other people. And you are not special because of what others say about you. In fact, what others think or say about you does not alter your value in any way, shape, or form. You are not valuable because of how many Facebook friends you have or because your band packs out a venue, or because people read your blogs.

Your value is not based on opinion.

And conversely, you are not worthless if you are not recognized on the streets. You have value, really and truly, because of who you are, not because of who knows you. Or who you know. You don’t need to be someone else to be great. You don’t need to compare yourself to anyone, because no one is like you.

And finally, consider what you are running after. There is no peace found at the end of that road. In fact, there are just more landmines, fake friends, and hands trying to pull you down.

It is for this reason that God cares much more about our character than our success.

Why?

Because fame is infamy.

Andrew Schwab is the lead singer and main lyricist for the band Project 86, and author of several books.

The Church of the Redundant

Note: I pretty much like the whole thing so I'm going to bold or italicize anything lol


The Church of the Redundant
January 8, 2008
by Dan Edelen

No one wants to think about a pastor dying unexpectedly, but what if yours did?

The church I attend had their 46-year-old pastor die of cancer a few years ago. It wasn’t completely unexpected, but he’d appeared to make a full recovery—only to succumb shortly after returning to the pulpit. People were shocked.

Now the elders in my church held the church together for a year or so while they sought a new pastor. My wife and I came on-board right as the new pastor was called. We feel blessed by this timing.

Some churches don’t recover, though, when a pastor dies or simply leaves for greener pastures. Or the children’s ministry director steps down and no one wants to step up. Or the worship pastor follows that dream to stardom in Nashville and the worship band sort of “goes to seed” in the aftermath of that departure.

It seems to me that a good many churches out there are cults. Not like Jehovah’s Witnesses, but cults of personality. They revolve around a few dynamic individuals. Should something happen to those dynamic individuals…well, you can see the handwriting forming on the wall.

It should never be that way.

Blame it on something in the drinking water in America, but we don’t do a very good job seeing ourselves as replaceable. Worse, people in leadership positions in churches take this to the extreme and find ways to keep from grooming successors. That dog-eat-dog, business world, CEO model permeates too much of our thinking, making us resistant to doing what’s best for the church, even if that best may not be the best for us personally.

The Bible has this to say,

Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Whoever loves his life loses it, and whoever hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life.
—John 12:24-25

The church that makes a difference is the one that understands that nothing good from anything that hasn’t died first. In this case, the truth is that I, along with you, must die to any preconceptions I have about “my ministry.” It’s not my ministry anymore than it is yours. It’s the Lord’s. And He only works wonders when the people trust Him enough to do it His way.

When we build our churches on a handful of talented individuals, we only set ourselves up for failure. Our goal instead should be to build a church where each person is replaceable, no matter how much a person might give to the ministry of the church in terms of time, effort, and money.

You see, when we’re dead, none of that worldly striving for position matters. It no longer becomes “my ministry.” The goal isn’t to play out my ministry, but to ensure that Christ plays out His, even if it means I wind up martyred for it. Because I’m replaceable.

Viewed that way, our entire perspective on how we disciple and raise up leaders must change. It forces us to see every person in the seats as a leader on some level or other. It means that anyone should be able to step up into any position within a church at a moments notice. And that’s because God often taps people for ministry on a moment’s notice.

Instead, we’ve created a model where a few of the dynamic people carry those who are all too willing to take up space. And this is what passes for church in far too many congregations out there.

Or we have the reverse where the leadership doesn’t resemble the boardroom of Procter & Gamble, so a handful of self-appointed leaders in the pews clamor to do it their way. Talk about toxic! So much for dying to self and putting the needs of others first.

When you look around the world at places where the Church is growing exponentially, it’s largely in those places where the Christians understand that everyone should be replaceable. The leaders realize they may not be around tomorrow, so redundancy is key. The Enemy can’t cut off the heads of leadership because, like a hydra, more will just grow out of the stumps.

But we’re not at that place in the U.S. Our own history of self-made men and pioneers makes that kind of selflessness impossible without a serious overhaul of our own identity as Americans. But our identity is found in Christ, not the Founding Fathers. And even they were pretty selfless when it came to founding this country.

I suspect that Darwinistic survival of the fittest concepts drive too many of us for us to see ourselves as redundant. But I also think that’s the only way we’re going to weather the storms that come our way as a Body of Believers in America.

Should it be so difficult, really? I don’t think it needs to be. It just means putting down “me” and taking up the cross. It means not thinking more highly of ourselves than we ought and esteeming others better. It means working to ensure that no one in our churches is irreplaceable. It means making disciples that conform, each and every one, to the image of Christ and not our own image.

I started out 2008 writing that this needs to be a year where we listen to the Holy Spirit like we’ve never listened before. I also think that 2008 is the year where the Church in America gets serious about laying down self. If it’s about maximizing the 401k plan, then we’re not going to work to make ourselves redundant. If it’s about maintaining a pretty Evangelical kingdom of our own making, then we’re never going to be humble enough to say, “Lord, here I am. Use me up.” We’ll never make ourselves expendable for the only Kingdom that counts.

Aren’t we all tired of living for ourselves? Aren’t we all a little bit burned out of rushing to and fro to keep the world’s plates spinning?

So where do we go from here, army of the redundant?

You know what I so appreciate about God--He knows exactly what I can handle and then rescues me.

Mind you I hate it when I'm in the middle of something and I wish that he wouldn't let me handle anything.

But ya know--he's smarter than I am...

A friend loves at all times.

Not just the times when convenient.
Not just the times when it's easy.
Not just the times when they are loved in return.

All the time.

God help me do this.

I'm called to this right now--help me do it and do it well.