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Several years ago, I accidentally watched an episode of Survivor. I’ve never been a fan of “reality” TV, and I’ve always been fairly selective of what I watch. That doesn’t mean I won’t watch a gritty crime series, or enjoy a good, hokie western now and then – but for the most part, I look for media that stimulates my mind. Anyway, I set the VCR to record one show, but apparently missed the cues and recorded Survivor instead.

A couple of days later, I sat down to watch the show I thought I recorded. Instead, the third episode of Survivor: Marquesas came on. I watched it and was amazed at the dynamics I saw being played out. (Try not to judge me, and listen to what I learned) I was immediately taken by one contestant, Hunter Ellisa former Naval aviator. In my ignorance at how this “game” is played, it seemed to me this is the guy you’d want on your team. If anyone knows anything about survival, it would be this military-trained pilot. But before I could say, sensationalism, Ellis was voted off the island.

Needless to say, I was hooked. I’ve always been a quiet student of human nature and political science. I was curious to figure this out. Why would a group of people vote off the most qualified person on the island. Over the course of the next 12 episodes, I developed a fairly strong theory.

  • First, Ellis was the biggest threat.
  • Second, he was good, but not stellar, when it came to interpersonal leadership skills.
  • and finally, because of the game, the others didn’t see him as a necessary resource.

The main reason I found this show so fascinating was because of the situation I found myself in at the time. Fresh from graduate school, my wife and I found ourselves pastoring two churches – both small, rural (blue collar), and very traditional. Neither of us are traditional, and though we come from blue-collar backgrounds, we are both well educated. In addition, small churches don’t fit well within our background. In fact, fresh from the seminary, and new to professional ministry, we were all set to change the world.

(As a side note, there may be many reasons to send new, young pastors to small, rural churches – but for the life of me, I don’t believe any of those ideas outweigh the damage this does to the individuals and the organization.)

But, back to my fascinating theory on what happened during this episode of Survivor.

Not only was Ellis smart, well educated, and proficient in survival/outdoor skills, but he was handsome and articulate. Unfortunately, the game is about wilderness survival, it is about political survival.  Knowing how to start a fire without matches, or building a shelter without tools, while nice skills to have, neither are the primary objective. Though those skills can be leveraged towards the primary objective, they are merely currency.

As a new pastor, coming into a church where the Head Elder has held his position since I was six years old, I was completely unprepared for the “game.” I (wrongly) believed the purpose of doing church was to help people know that God loves them. I somehow believe that my ideas, vision, and education would be welcomed with enthusiasm and affirmation. For some strange reason, I thought the people in the church were just waiting to be empowered an mobilized. I was so wrong.

I was so wrong.

Interestingly, we got out of that first situation with our lives relatively intact – just as Hunter Ellis went on to capitalize on his 15 minutes of fame. My entire professional career, I relied upon my expertise and skills to succeed. I was a good paramedic, a good instructor, and a good public speaker. I learned to be a good administrator and a good project manager. Somehow, naively, I was able to avoid the pitfalls of the political subcultures I found myself in. I expected a meritocracy, but after watching this one season of Survivor, I learned that merit is seldom the purpose of most organizations.

Relationships matter. One can use their skills and merit a return on investment, but in a political organization, skills, talent, and experience are merely the currency of membership. Without continuing to build the relationships, and the bartering of give and take, they will soon find themselves bankrupt and without merit.

Unfortunately for me, I tend to build relationships with the underdogs and the disempowered. My compassion and empathy tends to overlook the powerful – for I tend to think the powerful would automatically want to help those less fortunate then themselves. I’m not quite cynical enough to think this isn’t true, but I’m pretty close to believing that if one focuses on the underdogs, they will never have a future amongst the powerful.

According to Wikipedia, Ellis was voted one of the worst Survivor players ever. He was deemed to be too cocky and, ironically, not paying close enough attention to his own standing. As I review my previous political errors, this could be said of me also. I’ve often been labeled cocky, or arrogant. I’ll own that. I do think there is a certain amount of self-confidence involved in that – plus, INTJs struggle with this perception. But still, I’ll own that fact that I’m often perceived as too cocky.

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I also own the idea that I don’t pay enough attention to my own political standing. I’m opposed to currying favor, bartering with compromise, and using political standing to gain traction. Of course, this has not gone well in many situations. More than once I’ve had a boss call me onto the carpet to let me know I just made him look bad, or wasn’t supporting his vision of how things should progress. And more than once I’ve explained that I will follow my conscience and do the “right” thing, regardless of what is best for the organization’s survival.

My motive is never the survival of the organization, and always what is best for the individuals affected. As a paramedic and EMS manager, I was motivated by quality patient care. As a pastor, my motivation was to serve the disadvantaged and disempowered. As a voter, I am motivated to support those who cannot support themselves – not myself, or those well above the poverty line.

This is what gets me in trouble. I suppose some would suggest I take a more passionate interest in my own career – but I can’t. It’s would be immoral for me to do so. I could never put my own career, or the standing of any organization above what’s right.

Ellis was good. As I said, he was bright, articulate, skilled, charismatic, and attractive. But not stellar. From my observations, he is a leader and he has good ideas, but not stellar leadership, and not superior ideas. The biggest lesson I learned from watching this season of Survivor is that being a mediocre leader is one of the surest paths to political demise.

If one cannot rise up and be the leader, it would probably be best to blend into the background. Unfortunately, this isn’t a skill I’ve mastered either. Coming into this small, rural, traditional church, with a very established power structure, I thought my position, education, and enthusiasm would trump the inertia – it didn’t. In fact, all of my strengths were actually liabilities.

“I was too focused on doing the right thing.”

We were able to escape Rock Springs and serve in an area that was more akin to our passion and vision, but barely. If we had stayed much longer, we might have faced the same fate we experienced in Scappoose. Although I had an intellectual understanding of the dynamics, I never really applied them. Now, in retrospect, I realize this is what led to my demise in Scappoose and later at AMR. I was too focused on doing the right thing (whether my perspective of the “right thing” is correct, or not, is irrelevant to this discussion).

In Scappoose, I was all about reclaiming the marginalized members, looking out for those who didn’t feel comfortable in traditional church settings, and building connections within the community. What I didn’t realize is that none of those tasks should have been at the top of my list of priorities. Oops.

At AMR, I was focused on better supporting the paramedics and EMTs – knowing this is the surest way to achieve quality, and compassionate, patient care. My focus was on patient care and caring for our employees. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize that AMRs goal was profit.

Ellis appeared to focus on survival, but because of his superior skills he was deemed a threat. I now realize that some deemed me a threat also. Whether the threat was to their power and control, or to the status quo, it really doesn’t matter.

I wonder what would have happened had Ellis bartered his skillset for position and standing within the game. What would have happened if I had taken the time to establish my position and standing, rather than pursuing the vision within me?

Or here’s a better question: What if society valued ideas and creative vision, rather than pretentious political gaming?

“As you begin to interpret your failures correctly, you will take your first giant step toward maturity.” ~Chuck Swindoll

The kids couldn’t ride with me in the truck because I couldn’t figure out how to disable the passenger-side airbag. So I got had to drive cross country by myself. I know each of the kids would have enjoyed some time in the truck, and my Wonderful Wife would have appreciated a bit of a break. I, on the other hand, really enjoy my time alone on the road. It always gives me time to process.

(this is the missing piece from last week’s post found here)

After dealing with the ordeals of liquidation, packing, moving, and leaving our Oregon life behind, I had two huge fears. First was the fear of mechanical failure in the truck and van. The other was my fear of traffic, motor vehicle crashes, and the loss of my family.

The truck was overloaded. In fact, we left several nice items behind based purely on weight (I kept thinking about all the covered wagons on the Oregon Trail that tossed out prized possessions along the journey). The radiator leaked, I wasn’t too sure about the engine – with over  250+k miles, and the rear tires don’t have much tread left on them. I was actually ”OK” with a breakdown, though the prospect of unexpected financial costs were somewhat daunting. It was the fear of a catastrophic accident that frightened me – and leaving my family fatherless.

I read recently that “all emergency responders are wounded.” The PTSD is cumulative. We, paramedics, firefighters, EMTs, and police officers, see things no sane person should see – and few of us remain sane after seeing all of this. Whenever I see loved ones get into a car, a twinge of fear goes through my heart. This is the fear I had for my family driving cross country. Despite my own paranoia, driving does remain on of the most dangerous activities any of us will participate in. I never feared death until I had a family – now, I fear their deaths, and my own.

After realizing the fear and sorrow of this whole ordeal, confessing and admitting it, I was better able to hit the road – but the above fears continued to haunt me. But a few days into the journey, I experienced a breakthrough.

———————————-

Several years ago, I had the opportunity to hear Dr. Larry Crabb speak at a conference in Denver. I was impressed with his views on community and God’s love. I bought a couple of his books and MP3 audio presentations, but due to our hectic life over the past six years, I never really took the opportunity to explore his material – until last week. After two days of driving, I pulled up the audio version of his book, Finding God.

I love the synchronicity of perfect timing. I’m sure I would have enjoyed the book before, and I’m certain it would have spoken to me, but the healing power of this book was made more powerful after the perfect storm of fear I experienced during our exodus from Oregon.

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“Remember what happened to Lot’s wife!” ~Luke 17:32

Thirteen years ago, as a part of my seminary experience, I was asked to preach a sermon on the above text. I really had no idea what it meant, or where to start. Over the next few weeks, as I studied the story of Sodom, Gomorrah, Lot, and his family, my eyes were opened.

It’s really a fascinating story – especially the personal issues of Lot and his family. Although there are many layers to the story, I came away with a new understanding in light of Jesus’ words in Luke 17. Indeed, while Lot’s wife may get a lot of criticism for the act that led her to be turned into a pillar of salt, my study helped me realize Lot’s role in all of this.

In fact, one author says that it was Lot’s hesitation and fear that caused his whole family to hesitate and be afraid. Lot was “stupefied by sorrow” and unable to leave his home. This fear, this sorrow, and this hesitation almost cost him his life – and certainly led to the loss of his wife.

This story has haunted me for the past thirteen years. I never want to be a man who hesitates and drags my family back. And yet, I never believed there was a risk of this happening. I love adventure, I pursue risk, and I welcome change. And yet, the story still haunted me.

A week ago Friday, I was a mess of tears, confession, and understanding. I realized – with naked humility, how fearful I have been over the last several years. Now, in a climax of pain, we were selling most of our belongings, giving our house back to the bank, and leaving friends and family for destinations unknown. I was paralyzed, exhausted, and numb. I was stupefied by fear.

The Backstory:

In 2007, as we approached the end of our church planting contract, I grew anxious that our funding would not be renewed and our blessed community of faith would die. My fear caused me to stop leading and start pushing. My passion for my friends, my team leaders, and those who were finding a new way to relate to God caused me to lose sight of our original vision. Instead of trust and courage, I became a driven and burned out tool.

This attitude created a self-fulfilling prophecy of doom and we soon found ourselves living in Oregon, pastoring two traditional rural churches. My Smiling Son was just six-weeks old, and my Wonderful Wife did not adjust well to the dreary Oregon gray. It was a perfect storm of postpartum depressionseasonal affective disorder, and leadership burnout. I really tried to rise above the storm and be the professional I was called to be, but my concern for my family far outweighed my concern for my career. Unfortunately, I expected our new church family to understand. They did not.

In the Fall of 2009, we suddenly found ourselves without an income. My fear spiked. Now, with another gray Oregon Winter approaching, house payments looming, and no work to be found – I sunk into my own deep depression. I was angry, but with no way to express it. I was terrified, but with nowhere to run. I was discouraged, but seemingly, without understanding. I, like Lot, was stupefied by sorrow.

It seemed like a good idea to reacquire my paramedic license, and that proved to be fairly simple. Ten months later, I was employed as a working paramedic in Portland. The pieces seemed to fit together just in time. Our mortgage adjustment was dependent on employment and we were able to stave off foreclosure. For a few months, things seemed to be moving forward again.

Unfortunately, this paramedic gig required a three hour round trip commute to Portland, four days a week. At first I was working day shifts, but I soon found myself working nights. The hours were killing me – and hence my family. They never saw me, I was grouchy and sleep deprived, and the job is considered one of the 10 most stressful today. In addition, I was making 30% less than I was as a pastor and we were unable to stay out of debt. (Although we had no financial debt, we avoided putting new tires on our vehicles, the kids hadn’t seen the dentist in a couple of years, and we put off many high cost living expenses.)

Finally, in a desperate attempt to stay afloat, we quit making mortgage payments in order to take care of some necessary expenses. The house was now worth about $100k less than we originally paid for it, and we were hoping the bank would renegotiate the loan. We didn’t cause the housing bubble, nor did we do anything to make it burst. We didn’t buy too much home, but over the last five years, we’ve lost over $100,000 in real estate capital.

The bank denied our loan modification and moved us into the foreclosure process. At this point, we were on a fast track to losing our house – and our pending short-sale fell through. With foreclosure pending, we began to pack.

Unemployment – Again:

During my recent two years as a paramedic, I tracked my sleep. I was averaging six hours sleep per day. This wasn’t working. If you’re familiar with sleep deprivation, you know it will kill you. I was gaining weight, getting depressed, and slowly losing my ability to cope with my life, family, and job. I seemed to be getting sick all the time and I had no PTO (vacation or sick-leave) left. I was trapped – again. There appeared to be no way out. This job was killing me and killing my family.

With the impending foreclosure, we began to make plans to move closer to my employer. Our thinking was that I could get more sleep if I didn’t have that three-hour round trip commute – plus, we wouldn’t be spending $600 a month (this includes maintenance, insurance, and all operating costs – more than just fuel) on commuting costs – another big drain.

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But as we prayed about this, we felt impressed that the Lord had something else in mind. As far back as last January, we heard Him saying, “get ready.” We didn’t know for what, but we knew we would be moving.

In May, I reached a point where the stress of the job and the sleep deprivation were too much to bare. I could no longer sit, cooped up in that ambulance, for 12 hours straight – four long nights a week. At first I went out on a stress leave, but eventually I resigned (see this great article). My Wonderful Wife said she’d rather live in a tent than to continue living the way we’d been living.

Liquidating and Packing:

We sold our furniture and other things through Craigslist and garage sales. We threw out several pick-up loads of junk and we donated equal amounts to charity. Then came the tough task of packing. This whole process involved giving up valuable possessions. Some had real financial value, that we sold for pennies on the dollar. Other items had some real emotional and nostalgic value. And still others, had very real and practical value, but would cost too much to store, move, or keep.

We spent hours procession our stuff (affectionately referred to as crap!). Should I keep this box of electrical supplies I spent $45 on, or sell it all for a dollar in the garage sale? Should I keep this cherished item, lovingly painted by my late Mom, or give it to a charity? What about this toaster? What about these books (we got rid of about 15 boxes of books)? The emotional and physical toll, of combing through our stuff was huge.

But it’s when the time came to load everything in the truck that my energy began to fail. As I sized up the remaining boxes, and estimated what would fit into the 800 cubic foot truck, I knew we still had to eliminate about 50% of our remaining stuff. This is where the really tough choices happened. Going through one’s closet and throwing out perfectly good shirts, pants, and socks. Throwing away shelves, tables, and chairs. Giving away cherished artwork, favorite books, and food. It was exhausting.

This was the day my friend Terre came over and gave us a boost – but we are still only barely packed.

Originally we planned on leaving our house Sunday, September 30th. But as the weekend approached, we knew this was unreasonable and we moved our targeted date to October first. That day came and went, but we hopefully expected to be out the door by Tuesday afternoon. As Tuesday crept by, it seemed as if we were making very little progress. On Wednesday, my Wonderful Wife proclaimed we were living the movie Groundhog Day. Everyday, we got up, faced our discouragement, moved boxes of crap around, and then went fell into our makeshift bed (blankets on the floor).

It was daunting.

My fear and discouragement mounted to the point where I realized I was truly living out my worst fear – to be stupefied by pain, sorrow, and fear.

Broken:

On Thursday morning, October 4th, with no end in sight, I was ready to give up. Of course I couldn’t – but we felt so alone. Several people had helped us, but there was still so much to do. We felt alone, discouraged, and devastated  Emotionally  physically, and spiritually – we were done. But we plodded forward, to once again pull out the blankets and collapse into our makeshift bed.

On Friday morning, I could barely bring myself to crawl from between the blankets. I prayed for strength, prayed for relief, and prayed for a miracle. After breakfast, we sat on the floor and for the first time I admitted my fear. It began to pour out. I realized, for the first time, my failure in trusting God – for the past several years I had been trying to make it happen on my own strength.

“Then he said to me, ‘This is what the LORD says to Zerubbabel: It is not by force nor by strength, but by my Spirit, says the LORD of Heaven’s Armies’” ~Zechariah

This had been a text we have frequently referred to for the past several years. This has been our goal in ministry, and every other aspect of life. But on this particular Friday morning, I came to realize I failed to fully rely on God. I failed myself, I failed my family, I was hopeless. I wept, I confessed, I prayed, and I sought God and reconciliation to His ways. My Wonderful Wife listened, and we prayed together. I was broken, and healed.

That afternoon, we hit the road – but it was late. So we spent the next 36 hours at my brother’s house before finally getting on the road on Sunday – fully, a week later than we planned.

(to be continued…. I read listened to a book on the road and I can’t wait to tell you what I learned – you will find the continuation here)