There are many professions that are principally about helping others. Pastoral ministry is one of them. And I can only imagine that a common danger for all of these professions is longing to be the hero of the story.
You don’t have to look far to find heroic tropes everywhere. We’re surrounded by Marvel movies. The language of ‘fr0ntline hero’ has become commonplace in our lexicon. Many of the stories of scripture have been taught and read through the lens of heroism. Transitional ministry is no exception. In fact, often the transitional leader arrives to the scene precisely in the midst of crisis, into a moment of desperation, and many eyes look to them to ‘save the day’. It’s easy to enter into a space believing in one’s own heroism, and even if there is a concerted effort to suppress this notion, often it is the community that reinforces this idea.
“What would we do without you?”
“Where would we be without you?”
I wonder if beneath the spectacle of celebrity are a chorus of voices that depict one as a hero until they start to believe it. I love the story of the feeding of the thousands in John 6. Jesus shows us what he thinks of our heroism in the bookends to this feeding miracle.
At the outset, a huge crowd has formed. Jesus hasn’t really done much yet. The early chapters of John’s gospel are rich with Christological meaning, but aside from turning water into wine at a remote wedding, a conversation with a woman at a well, and some healing, we’re not told of much. And yet word is spreading that this Jesus can heal and does heal. So the desperate masses arrive seeking a hero to save them.
Jesus wants none of it. He leaves the crowd, crossing over to a more remote place. The place is so remote that in the particular account of the feeding miracle, his friends and followers talk of having trouble finding a place (a town, village, etc) that would have bread enough to feed all these hungry mouths. They are in the middle of nowhere. The very scarcity of the story is connected to the scarcity of their location. There simply isn’t enough food there. All of this is to say, at the outset of the story, Jesus withdraws from the crowd to a very remote place. He leaves the limelight. He leaves centre stage.
This is how Jesus feels about their notions of heroism. This is how Jesus responds to growing crowds desperate for a hero.
Perhaps you know the story. It’s a well known one. From a few loaves of bread and some fish, Jesus somehow feeds the entire crowd not just a snack, but a full meal. No one is hungry any longer. And to top it off, there’s leftovers to take home. In the face of the scarcity of their imagination, their empty bellies, and the place itself, Jesus provides an absolute abundance. His more-than-enoughness surfaces to the centre of the story over and against their will-their-be-enough-mentality.
The crowd must have looked longingly at him as one adores a hero. He saved the day.
Recently we were at Centre Island in Toronto as a family. It was a day full of long lines (lines to get on the ferry, lines to get on the rides, lines to get food). And at the end of the day, as we made our way to the docks to catch the ferry back to the mainland, we were absolutely shocked by the sheer size of the line. It was easily the longest queue I’d ever seen. If I had to guess, it was going to take five or six ferry rides to get all of these people off the island, and that could take hours.
To make matters worse, our kids had been in the sun all day, were tired, and were hungry. Oh and we had no food. We’d eaten everything we had brought with us. I can only imagine if someone showed up to deliver us from the land and fill our bellies with goodness, that we might herald said someone a hero. Our kids would remember them and tell stories of just how hungry they were and just how much of a hero they were.
It’s no surprise then that at the end of this miraculous feast, the crowds want to name him their hero. Here’s how it reads:
When the people saw the sign he had done, they said, “This truly is the Prophet who is to come into the world.”
Therefore, when Jesus realized that they were about to come and take him by force to make him king, he withdrew again to the mountain by himself.
John 6:14-15
If this is how Jesus responds to the allure of the crowd naming him hero, it’s safe to say I should question when others try to name me a hero in the story. I should question my own need to be a hero in the story. I should find better language for the role I’m striving to play in the community. This is where I turn to the language of guide.
In real life settings like a forest or a vast wilderness, I’d actually make a terrible guide. I’m geographically inept. I get lost easily. I don’t have practical survival skills. But in the context of change-management, navigating crisis, traversing the wilderness, and helping churches move toward resolution and collective flourishing, the role of guide is a good fit for me. Where a hero steps into the centre of the story, a guide is a companion often parallel to the action. Where a hero demands ‘look at me’, a guide offers ‘look around’. Where a hero cements the idea ‘you need me’, a guide quietly remarks ‘you have everything you need’.
If we return to the very story of miraculous meal provision, it’s one of two competing views: scarcity and abundance. Sometimes called the myth of scarcity, it’s a view that tells us we don’t have enough and aren’t enough.
“The myth of scarcity tells the powerful to accumulate and take and dominate, to be driven by the fear of Not Enough and Never Enough. We make our decisions out of fear and anxiety that there isn’t enough for us. These core beliefs can lead us to the treacheries of war and hunger, injustice and inequality. We must keep others down so we can stay on top.”
Sarah Bessey
If we’re honest, even on a good day churches often operate in a scarcity mentality. We compete for what we perceive to be scarce resources. We operate in isolation, often rooting ourselves in a spirit of competition with other churches instead of collaboration, and this only reinforces that we must keep others down so we can stay on top. But this is all magnified and multiplied when in transition. The transitional season is akin to the wilderness or the desert, a landscape marked by questions of not enough and never enough, when the people of Israel pondered if the God of the wilderness could indeed grow grapes.
In community development terms, the myth of scarcity plays out in several ways. It begins with a needs assessment. An outside expert will come and discern that a community is lacking in key areas. Following this needs assessment, the various needs will require correcting, and this looks like bringing in more outside experts to offer solutions. All of this only reinforces a scarcity mentality in a community. ‘We don’t have what is needed. We don’t have enough. We aren’t enough.’
Responding to the drawbacks of this scarcity-laden approach, many point to a better way. Instead of a needs-based approach, what if we took inventory of the assets that are present. Five loaves. Two fish. An asset-based approach (also called asset-based community development) begins with the particular gifts and assets of a community. These are the starting line. These are the ingredients. These are the beginning of what is needed.
In an asset-based approach, four prepositions are considered: to, for, with, and by. Much could be said here. In short, a to or for approach is what heroes offer. They come to save the day. They rescue and they save through heroic deeds for the people. Guides are much different. They come alongside a community with the hopes that the solutions surface and the victories are won with and by the very people of the community. Alongside and in support of.
My hope is that the heroes of the story are those that make the difficult choice to stay even when the wilderness landscape is formidable. Or those that sacrifice in this season for the good of the community. And my hope is that the various communities I come alongside as a guide see me not as a hero, but as one who journeys with for a season, helping them to see the abundance their own community already possesses. Indeed, the kingdom of God is abundant, for it’s king is generous.