A few degrees of separation

I'm going to write today about one of the hardest lessons I've learnt doing this pioneering ministry lark, and one that is a constant struggle to get right. My most burning passion in ministry is to see communities of committed disciples that are authentic, real, vulnerable, honest and have trimmed themselves of as much BS as is possible. A place that is safe for people to come and be vulnerable, where they don't have to fear being used as guinea pigs for a bunch of amateur spiritual physicians who want to heal, save and liberate everything in arms reach (read most Christians). To facilitate this environment as the leader, building relationships is crucial. Without deep relationships, the community will never develop the intimacy needed for vulnerability.

Because the thing is, vulnerability is difficult. We have all been hurt and bruised in our stories, and the mind rebels against this idea of letting its guard down in case the bruises are ripped open to become deep wounds. Unfortunately, in so many peoples' experience of church, this is exactly what has happened. So we play at being vulnerable, we pretend that we are sharing our true and honest 'prayer concerns' with each other, knowing all the while that those things most important to us, those facets of our beings that are darkest, most messed up and most broken - those things we could NEVER tell anyone. The potential pain is too great.

So deep relationships are important. However, it's not as simple as that (when is it ever?), because there is a real danger. A leader wants to create relationships within her community so she throws herself into the friendships, meeting up with folk for coffee, organising social events, cinema trips, nights out, meals, anything that would create the fertile ground for relationship to grow. This community becomes her main friendship circle, she is invested in its members just as they are invested in her and each other. And...it begins to work. Deep and real friendships grow. Vulnerability begins to emerge. The dream is beginning to be realised.

Here's the danger. In the midst of this process, somewhere in the milieu, she loses perspective and her sense of purpose. The friendships become the the goal, the reason for their necessity is forgotten. The little community is happily revelling in its own insular reality where everyone loves everyone and we look after each other, where the universe is fine as long as we stick together. It becomes harder and harder to see anything outside this circle of loveliness. The community becomes gated by walls of its sense of shared vulnerability. When it comes into contact with 'outsiders', the in-jokes and private conversations give a clear if unintentioned message: "Sorry, if you're not one of us already you really can't be one of us. Unless of course you prove to be 'our kind of person'. Then you can can definitely be one of us'. And because the leader is as much in the mix of all this as anyone else, there is no one to recognise what is happening. The community has become a clique.

I've come to the conclusion that a few degrees of separation between the leader and the community is necessary, and it is painful for me to say that because it is painful to do. Someone has to stand slightly outside the circle, to keep watch for the waifs and strays who God brings along, to remind the community of its purpose. This may mean that the leader will always feel slightly like an outsider in his own community, and possibly the other members will feel he is as well. Perhaps this is one of the burdens of leadership. I wonder if Jesus felt something of this as his lads were getting to know each other, laughing, joking and hanging out? I don't know. I do know though that the leader has a calling and responsibility, one that can weigh very heavily at times.

But, vulnerability and relationships are still key. How does one facilitate these while maintaining something of a separation? Ask me in a few months. Haven't quite figured that one out yet.