The spirit of our age

One of the overpasses along the Queen Elizabeth Way in southern Ontario is spray-painted with three short words: “They all lie.”

Think about it: ‘They all lie.’

This anonymous graffiti-sociologist has captured the zeitgeist of our age profoundly. This epithet identifies a spirit that is fuelled by cynicism, suspicion, anger and even contempt. This spirit affects every part of our society, including Christian communities and organizations. And it helps to explain why so many Christian leaders are exhausted, discouraged, insecure and fearful. As a pastor said to me, “I and my colleagues have decided to just keep our heads down and keep moving one step at a time.” Elon Musk’s newly created “Department of Government Efficiency” would be more properly named, “All Institutions Are Evil, Let’s Eviscerate Them.”

In this season we especially need leaders who are bold, prophetic, curious, compassionate and persevering, but in a context shaped by “they all lie / institutions are evil,” those virtues take a hammering.

During the past 50 years, I’ve had the privilege of serving six different Reformed Christian institutions: two universities, two congregations, one high school and the Christian Reformed denomination. I’ve also had the privilege of having heart-to-heart conversations with hundreds of pastors, school administrators, teachers and other leaders in organizations like these, and heard firsthand about their joys (a little) and their sorrows (a lot).

We need strong institutions led by strong leaders! I believe we are all called to do a great deal of soul-searching concerning how we engage with the institutions that are part of our Kingdom-seeking Reformed communities.

Why do we need strong institutions? What is their purpose?

An institution exists to bring people together around a shared mission, in a spirit shaped by common values, guided by protocols that build capacity for the mission to flourish fruitfully. The many dimensions of the mission embedded in the Kingdom of God are supported by strong institutions.

When this goes well, leaders lead with sturdy character, wise discernment, appropriate transparency and judicious flexibility, all enlivened by the fruit of the Spirit. In turn, followers follow with trust, encouragement, support, constructive criticism and lively engagement.

Thriving is hard

Thriving institutions are shaped by strong leadership and equally strong followership.

What are the specific dynamics that render “thriving” so difficult now?

Everyone is an expert; “followership” is a neglected spiritual discipline. The president of a Reformed university once said to me, “When one’s position in an institution is higher up the ladder than others, it’s like being the highest one on a mountain-climb. From that perch, one can see things that others cannot see. But the ‘lower’ ones don’t know what they don’t know, and thus don’t realize they don’t have as many facts in hand. And part of the loneliness of leadership is that I cannot responsibly share all the facts.”

In our Google / AI age, everyone is now an expert. We all think we know all the facts, and in a climate of suspicion, our “facts” justify our refusal to trust leaders.

Fear is endemic. Over and over again leaders tell me how afraid they are, and how fear is rampant among their membership. Fear has become the primary fuel that drives community action and decision-making (or lack of decision-making). Covid has left many of our institutions financially fragile, and people know that money is power.

When communities are fuelled by fear, two sins easily take root: legalism and idolatry. Describing the presence of these sins in Reformed circles today would require a separate article. For now, identifying the pervasive presence of fear is enough. The deepest calling of Christian communities is to be places where love reigns, and fear is the great suffocator of love (I John 4:18).

Fear and suspicion fuel power-manipulation. Institutions wield power, and that’s a good thing. One of the first commands the Lord gave his image-bearers was “to rule” (Gen. 1.28), and ruling in the Lord’s name is a wonderful gift. The godly exercise of power is epitomized in Jesus washing his disciples’ feet (John 13), and embodied in the Lord’s declaration to Paul, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (II Cor. 12: 9).

Many of our communities have seen groups mobilize behind the scenes to ensure that their agendas are successfully adopted at important decision-making gatherings such as classes, synods, school membership meetings, and more. Such power-manipulation undermines the deeper quality of the power of the gospel.

Perfection is not an option. The Reformed tradition includes a strong strain of perfectionism, setting the bar high and then doing everything possible to reach that bar. That high bar has blessed us in many ways. But there’s a dark side to it. In a highly dysfunctional environment like ours, setting a high bar creates a breeding ground for a critical spirit that undermines institutional health.

I have found that one of the most overlooked New Testament realities is its acceptance of slavery as a social/economic institution. Not only does the New Testament not condemn slavery, it actually gives guidance on how to be good slave owners and slaves (Eph. 6: 5-9 / Col. 3: 22-4:1). Frankly, that’s crazy! Slavery is an incredibly evil practice, turning precious Image-bearers of God into things, mere property. This tells us that in broken situations, the best solutions are somewhat less broken, and perfection is not an option. Less broken solutions can create a feeding frenzy for the suspicious community of “follower-experts.”

How to do better

I could identify more dimensions of dysfunction, but this describes the landscape sufficiently for now. How might we handle this institutional environment in a God-honouring manner? I will risk naming a few “less-broken” thoughts.

Everyone is called to serve as a trust-shepherd. “Humpty-dumpty sat on a wall, Humpty-dumpty had a great fall. All the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put Humpty together again.” This child’s rhyme expresses the fragility of trust better than any other poem I know. And yet Paul dares to write, “Love always trusts” (I Cor. 13: 7).

All of us – leaders and followers – are called to be trust-shepherds, stewards of the trust that is the life-blood of institutions. Specifically, this means we give our leaders the benefit of the doubt, because they know more than we do. This means that we are curious, asking gentle questions, remembering that judgmentalism kills curiosity. Leaders serve as trust-shepherds by leading transparently and gently. Followers serve as trust-shepherds by rejecting political power-games. When they hear someone sowing seeds of suspicion and judgment, they shut it down before it gathers momentum and becomes toxic. Relationships are always more important than partisan agendas, and trust-shepherds tend relationships with great care.

One community I’ve worked with had a long history of conflict and suspicion. Recognizing this, they adopted a community covenant, which articulated the manner in which members of the community were called to treat one another. This covenant is read at the beginning of every meeting, and everyone in attendance commits to abiding by the covenant. When someone speaks in a manner that is not consistent with the covenant, the chair of the meeting asks that person to reword or withdraw their comments. I have seen firsthand profound trust-healing take place in this community. That covenant gives everyone permission to serve as a trust-shepherd.

Everyone supports our leaders’ character development. There’s an old saying that Christians are good at shooting their wounded. Every leader is wounded in some way. Values and character are central to institutional health. But here’s the challenge: our leaders are called to be transparently vulnerable, but this makes them more susceptible to being wounded by the communities which they lead.

The model for embodying the heart of Christ in unusually difficult times is found in Jehoshaphat’s response to an enemy invasion in II Chron. 20. He gathers the entire community and leads them in a prayer which includes these words: “We have no power to face this vast army that is attacking us. We do not know what to do, but our eyes are fixed on you.” The entire chapter illustrates godly leadership and godly followership within the faithfulness of God.

Failure will happen; the Lamb still reigns. “Even though the wrong seems great and strong, God is the ruler yet” (from “This is my Father’s world”). In our context, sin is having many “victories.” Leaders are resigning or being fired. Fear-based legalism and idolatry are stronger than ever. Organized power blocs are achieving their goals. Superbly gifted leaders are telling me they will sit on the sidelines until the current season passes. I find myself praying over and over, “Dear Jesus, you are on the throne and we are not. Help us to trust in you.” We will experience failures; Jesus is still Lord.

The three most repeated commands in Scripture are (in order), “Do not be afraid,” “Love one another,” and “Stand firm.” This is the trio that our times drive us to cling to in both leadership and followership, embodying a trust that overcomes suspicion, a love that overcomes fear, and a standing-firm rootedness that overcomes power games.