Chapter 6

What Is It To Be “Real” Anyway?

            At this point, someone is probably saying this is all great, but what does it mean to be real?  Realness is hard to define.  It is elusive.  It is like hammering Jell-O; just when you think you have it, it morphs into another shape.  There is also a danger in defining realness.  By defining something which moves, you are in danger of putting it in a box.  Whenever we put something that is alive in a box, it always seems to find a way out.  Either that or it ceases to exist, because it refuses to live in prison. 

            Defining realness is like defining God.  The more we describe what He is, the more we confine Him.  While it is worthy to discuss what He is like it is another to try and restrict Him by our definitions.  

            Realness is equally elusive.  The more we define what is real, the more we define what is not real.  By defining it, we make it unreal.  When we can grasp what it is like to be real on paper, we have lost its true meaning.  This is what makes realness mysterious and, perhaps, too mysterious for most Christians. 

            My experience is that most Christians like the world black and white.  This is perhaps, the reason some people come to Christ in the first place - to find black and white answers to life’s most difficult questions.  This is what most non-Christians mean by using Christianity as a crutch.  Too often when we look for black and white answers, we generalize this to all areas of life.  In the end, most Christians end up being black and white in their view of the world.  This should be no surprise, since most of the sermons they hear are black and white also.  This is sad because much of the mystery of life is found in its ambiguity, in the misty and vague gray area. 

            Many Christians make the mistake of judging all of life as black and white.  While some of it is black and white (our various doctrinal statements), much of life is rather ambiguous.  It is my opinion that accepting the ambiguousness of life is part of growing up.  Needing everything to be simple (i.e., black and white), may satisfy our childishness, but, nevertheless, it leaves us empty in describing the confusing world in which we live.

            When we refuse to accept the ambiguity of life, we put life, God, and realness into a box.  Everything must be perfectly clear.  If I am to take seriously most of the sermons I have heard, we should expect the Christian life, to be black and white and, therefore, fairly easy to follow. 

            My experience is that life is not wholly clear.  Some things I choose to believe; many things I don’t have a clue about.  Too much of Christianity is about the business of giving answers for things it has no business giving answers to.  Instead, we should be telling people how difficult it is to understand life, let alone, live it.  Still, most people go to church to hear a simply message that will relieve their anxiety about the difficulty and ambiguity of live. 

            I like to say that when I graduated from Christian college I knew all of the answers and when I graduated from seminary, I finally realized I didn’t even know the questions. 

            At the various colleges where I have taught, I try to help students understand the difficulty of putting the truths of life into a box.  I try to help them see that their view of the world is insufficient.  It may be fine that they are saved, but that is not all there is.  In order to understand the human condition, they are going to have to be confronted with a part of life they cannot grasp (just like Jell-O).  For most of them they have to understand that heretofore, the answers to life’s most difficult questions have been answered and explained rather simply.

             The problem with our simple Christian answers is that this too often puts secular people in a box.  When we do this, we judge them.  Non-Christians experience this as being judged by self-righteous Christians who are in denial of their arrogance. 

               In contrast to this simplistic way of viewing life, one of the best explanations I have heard about realness is that written by Margery Williams in “The Velveteen Rabbit.”  What she writes about realness may never be out-described.  Listen and take in what she has to say about being real:

            “What is real?,”  asked the Rabbit one day.  “Does it mean things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?”

            “Real it isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse.  “It’s a thing that happens to you.  When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but really loves you, then you become real.”

            “Does it hurt?”

“Sometimes,” for he was always truthful.  (Sounds  like Jesus, huh?)  “When you are real, you don’t mind being hurt.”

            “Does it happen all at once, like being wound up, or bit by bit?”

            “It doesn’t happen all at once.  You become.  It takes a long time.  That’s why it doesn’t happen to people who break easily, or who have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept.  Generally, by the time you are real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby.”

            “But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real, you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”

            “I suppose YOU are real?”  And then he wished he had not said it, for he thought the Skin Horse might be sensitive.  But the Skin Horse only smiled.

            “The boy’s Uncle made me real.  That was a great many years ago, but once you are real, you can’t become unreal again.  It lasts for always.”

            The Rabbit sighed.  He thought it would be a long time before this magic called real happened to him.  He longed to become Real, to know what it felt like; and, yet, the idea of growing shabby and losing his eyes and whiskers was rather sad.  He wished he could become it without the uncomfortable things happening to him...

            One time the Boy was called away suddenly, and the little Rabbit was left out on the lawn until long after dusk.  Nana had to come and look for him with the candle because the Boy was so worried about the Rabbit he couldn’t go to sleep unless Rabbit was safely home.  He was wet through the dew and quite earthy from diving into the burrows the Boy had made for him in the      flower bed.

            Nana grumbled, “You must have your old Bunny!  Fancy all that fuss for a toy!”

            “Give me Bunny!  You mustn’t say that.  He isn’t a toy. He’s REAL!”

            When the little Rabbit heard that, he was happy, for he knew what the Skin Horse had said was true at last.  The nursery magic had happened to him, and he was a toy no longer....

            The genius of the Velveteen Rabbit is in its truth about the difficulty, pain and process of becoming real.  The Rabbit wanted to become real, but was afraid it might hurt.  As the Skin Horse explained, the process would take time and include a personal cost to the Rabbit.  The Rabbit was going to look worse for the wear and tear of love.  Only until the Rabbit looked worn out on the outside would he become real on the inside.  He would lose his eyes and new, outward shimmer, but the reward to be gained (realness) was worth all of this.  In other words, one cannot stay on the shelf, not experience the pain of life, and expect to become real. 

            This is a great analogy to spiritual growth.  I believe one of the most critically important characteristics of Christ-likeness and, hence, spiritual maturity is that of being real.  One simply cannot spend significant amounts of time with Jesus and not become real.  Therefore, I believe it is impossible to be called spiritually mature and not be real.  To grow in Christ is to become like Him.  To become like Him is to become more real.  He was the most real man who ever lived.  The realness of Jesus I read about in the Gospels is one of the best apologetics I know for His deity.  It was through His realness that He showed in the way He loved that proved His relationship with God the Father. 

            Being genuine is obviously an important characteristic of realness.  It might be its best synonym; in fact, often they mean the same thing.  I believe genuineness and authenticity are nearly the same as being real.             

            To me, being genuine means not having hidden agendas.  When you spend time with someone who is genuine, you learn to trust them.  There are a few surprises because they have been open with you, and what they live is congruent with what they have said; the person you see is the person you get.  When you hear others talk about a genuine person, you hear of the same person you know.  They are the same person in many different social situations.  They don’t become a chameleon or simply what others want or need them to be.  Their genuineness is honest, because when you are not around them, they are still being the same person. 

            Having said this, I also believe us all to have what I like to call a “gig” or a “con.”  Our gig is the game we play to be accepted by other people we consider to be important.  I also call it a con because our gig is inherently dishonest in that we deny we are doing it and go to all sorts of lengths to make sure no one knows the real us.   

            It is important for me to be honest with myself enough to admit that I have a gig and that to some extent I am a con.  For example, by writing a book about realness I can fool you into believing that I am thoroughly honest and that I have finished most of the work that faces me concerning my own realness.  The most honest thing I can say is that I have worked hard to become real, but much work remains.   

            Still, regardless of the different roles I am playing in my life, I try to be the same person.  Whether I am a father, husband, friend, teacher, counselor or casual acquaintance, I try to be the same me.  This does not mean I share the same things with all of these people.  There are things I can tell my wife which I do not and should not tell my children.  To let everyone know everything about you is harmful to others and to you.  This is verbal and emotional exhibitionism.  Just as a physical exhibitionist inappropriately bears all to the general public, some people do this with personal information.   

            I have often made the mistake of believing honesty meant needing to be totally open with everyone.  When I did this, I was being covertly, and unconsciously seductive.  By telling all too quickly, I was trying to make sure others would do the same.   

            I was also uncomfortable with and rejecting of myself.  By telling people all the bad about me, I would give them the opportunity to leave before I invested too much in the relationship.  Since I rejected me, I always figured it would just be a matter of time before someone else would as well.  By sharing too much, I could reduce the pain of potentially being abandoned in the future. 

            On the other hand, I believe it is possible to be real while being appropriate with your self-disclosures.  In general, I think people do not share enough about their struggles and failures and don’t have a safe place to, especially people in leadership positions.  Even though it’s not true of everyone, too many church leaders put on the air of completeness and togetherness.  Everything from the way they dress, wear their hair, and speak communicates that they are super-Christians.  The rest of us in the pews feel less adequate and incomplete.  We believe if we have enough faith and try hard enough that, if it’s “God’s Will,” then maybe we can be a good Christian.  

            I also tend to think this is the reason we make them our leaders; they can play the role of super-Christian so the rest of us don’t have to.  While it would be unhealthy and not helpful to disclose their dirty laundry in front of others, the pastors of our churches should be real enough to share more liberally how they fail.  This would bring down the barriers between us and the pastor as well as the barriers between all of us.                       

            The other day when I was at church for a men’s fellowship, the issue of realness became alive in front of my eyes.  The purpose of the men’s fellowship was to give the leadership of the church an opportunity to reach out to the younger men.  The program included an informal coffee hour, followed by a casual time of testimonies, both by the elders and some selected younger men. 

            One of my favorite pastors (he is the most humble, unpretentious, and gentle of the pastoral staff) gave his testimony.  It was filled with stories of how God had taken him from Pakistan to the pastorate.  He also shared intimate details of failures and discouragements in his life.  He shared how his wife had become manic-depressive while they were in Pakistan.  He shared of his struggle to leave the mission field, his desire to rebel against God, and about the difficult adjustment of taking a desk job back in the U.S.  He did this so his wife could receive the necessary medical treatment she needed. 

            But, surprisingly the testimony with the most impact came from a younger man.  As he spoke, he not only told of his struggles over losing a job, but, more importantly, he showed some of his anger as he spoke.  I could see from his tone of voice and the redness in his face that he was still angry about how the new owner of the commercial airline he worked for drove the company into obscurity and destruction while raping it of it‘s assets.  Of course, while the corporate raider made out like a bandit, this guy’s job and thousands others went with it.   

            He spoke of the help and non-help he received from the church during this difficult time.  He stated that the most helpful comment he received was a short, relatively obscure, empathic response from a friend.  Upon hearing of the difficulty in his friend’s life, the friend simply said “that sucks!”   

            This comment helped more than many of the other people in the church who told him to pray about it and to have faith.  He shared that even though he knew these things to be true, he didn’t want or need to hear how God was using this struggle to make him more useful.  His pain, hurt, and anger was real and not easy for him to handle.  His friend’s comment, “that sucks!” said volumes of understanding, compassion and realness.  This was what he needed at the time, not a bunch of prescribed Christian clichés.  These clichés only made him feel worse about his struggles, like there was something more he should be doing. 

            Interestingly, when he finished speaking and sharing his loss to the men‘s group, people wanted to discuss his experience, thoughts, and feelings.  The questions kept coming for nearly an hour.  This was in contrast to the lack of questions that did not come after the other men spoke.   

            I believe the critical difference was his willingness to admit that he was still struggling, that he didn’t know all the answers, and that this is who he was (good and bad) at this point.  We continued to ask questions because we could identify with him and, because of this, the barriers and walls came down.  By doing this, he was loving the audience.  We showed our appreciation by wanting more of him. 

            While he was still speaking, a friend and I slipped out to go play basketball in the church gym.  While playing, I had the opportunity to meditate on how the same barriers that fell in the earlier meeting were also being broken down as I played a game with 7 other guys.  We did not speak about our lives, but we had a chance to live out our lives while playing the game.  An intimacy and respect was in the gym that overshadowed even what was happening in the fellowship hall.   

            While getting a drink of water between games, I had another unusual experience.  The drinking fountain happens to be in the narthex and in this room is a large frame with the pictures of the pastoral staff and the current elder board.  What struck me was the uniformity of the appearance of these men.  Each had basically the same haircut, dark suit with a conservative tie, and look on their faces.  This look, I gather, was to convey strength of leadership and, henceforth, security for the body of believers.   

            It reminded me of the presidential debates where future presidents are coached to wear the same conservative outfit.  I have heard commentators on TV reveal how candidates are advised on what to wear and what message this would give to the American public.  By following these fashion recommendations, they end up being virtual clones of each other.  I often think what would happen if one of them dressed in a more casual outfit.  Paradoxically, even though a gamble, I believe one of these politicians would be more believable in casual clothes, if for no other reason than to be a little different. 

            This is precisely the problem with politics, whether in government or in the church:  it is all about image.  The right image gets more votes (after all, “Image is everything,” according to at least Andre Agassi and Canon).  The challenge for us as Christians and as people is to be ourselves, whether this means refusing to conform to a social norm or by being different.  The important thing is to be the you God made you to be.  As I like to say, “the real you is better than the role you.” 

            What I have been saying is that I believe the pressure to conform is stronger in the church than perhaps any other social institution.  This is a strange contradiction to the life and message of Jesus, the church’s founder. 

            Getting back to the pictures of the pastors and elders of my church, I stood there wondering how many people this conservative look had left feeling uncomfortable.  It made me feel uncomfortable and I have been in the church and worked for many Christian organizations most of my life.  Without sounding like I’m bragging, I’ve been in about every kind of Christian organization you can imagine, including church, church camps, revival meetings, Christian colleges, youth organizations, Christian counseling centers, parachurch organizations, and so on.  My church experience is so vast that I once had an atheist psychiatrist who was interviewing me for an internship say to me, “You’ve been in more churches than the Pope!”           

            Without some variety on the elder board, we as a church, knowingly or not, are communicating what we believe to be success.  We have defined what our leaders are to look like.  This has several ramifications including such things as what the young men of the congregation need to look like to aspire as a leader, to what kind of people we want attracted to our church.   

            I have wondered what a gang on Harleys who happened to wander curiously in the church narthex might think after looking at the clones of our church leadership.  I think they would have quickly gotten the message that this church was for “perfect” people; young, upstanding, upwardly mobile, “nice” upper middle class people.  In their inadequacy, they would probably leave and never come back again, being reminded once again that the church is for people who look right on the outside.  If they were real angry, they might come back and spray-paint HYPOCRITES on the front of the church.  Then, most of us would be more concerned about our building than asking ourselves why such a thing would happen.  Our piety would be in full bloom!  All of this would happen against the backdrop of following a savior who was ridiculed for hanging out with prostitutes, tax collectors, fisherman, and other social undesirables.

            This is why I believe it would be beneficial for our pastors and elder board to show variety in their outward appearance.  I believe the pastor should not be bound by the social norms of the churches subculture.  The pastor must lead the way in being different.  At least occasionally, the pastor should wear anything from his most formal outfit to his most informal.  I believe the elders should do the same.  Hair styles should be different, at least a little bit.  By making this shift, we would communicate that all types of people are accepted.  We would also be making the statement that it is not the clothes that makes the man; it’s what inside that counts. 

            A pastor should also model realness by appropriately sharing his personal struggles and failures.  By doing this, the rest of us would know we are in an environment that is safe.  This is an example of “what happens at the top” dictates the overall personality and atmosphere of a church or organization.”  One of the main reasons people choose one church over another is they feel they can identify with the pastor.  Real pastors attract real people and guarded pastors attract guarded people.  Once the level of intimacy is established in a church (again, through what is happening at the top), people then fight for this level to remain the same.  From a sociological perspective, we then label this level of intimacy as “normal.”  Once we define what is normal, then we judge people against this grid. 

            It becomes very difficult for a church to change once reality is defined.  The church could lose its pastor (the man at the top, theoretically, anyway) and then is likely to find another one who mirrors what it wants.  If the pastor and church do not match, pressure builds for one or both to change.  If change doesn’t take place, the pastor either leaves or is fired.  (I suppose one could say "made to be a scapegoat" for not fitting in.)  Sometimes it’s just easier to start a new church.  The problem still remains though if the new church is not flexible enough to change to meet the demands of an every increasingly changing world.  Sooner or later, this “new” church will become an “old” church without such flexibility.  Because of this, successful churches challenge their traditional roots and change without losing what is most important:  their doctrinal statement. 

            Specifically, being real means letting people know that you struggle the same way they do and that you have the same weirdness about you that they have.  This struggle and weirdness, in my opinion, is one of the most important things to define what is human.  Because we hide our weirdness from each other, few of us take the risk of being real, especially in the church where the cost for being real can be the highest.  When my pastor talks about surfing, the rest of us feel more connected to him.  Somehow our mold of what a pastor is doesn’t include the joy of surfing.   

            I believe we have wrongfully separated spiritual growth and being real.  Usually, one must decide to be one or the other.  Too many times the people who dare to be real are seen by the total population of the church as unspiritual or as weak.  By not playing the pseudo-spiritual and highly political game, the church withholds its social rewards.  Chances at leadership are squelched.  Those who look right, talk right, have the right jobs and friends and play the “church game” well, are rewarded with leadership opportunities. 

            I was reminded of this at the last annual meeting at our church.  We were to vote for four of six choices for the position of being a new elder.  Two of these choices were individuals who had been Christians for a relatively short period of time.  In my opinion, it is not possible to have suffered enough successfully in the Christian life within five years.  This lack of experience puts a young Christian in a dangerous position.    I usually like to vote for elders who have been Christians a long time and have a head of at least some gray, or no hair at all.  These individuals who were up for election to the board of elders were candidates, in my opinion, because they represent, especially on the outside, what the church wants to promote:  “clean-cut men.”   

            On the other hand, realness realizes we all are so much the same.  When you strip away the outer shell, we are a lot more alike than we wish to admit.  For example, when I went on retreats as a teenager and later as a youth leader, what amazed me most - and it happened on every trip - was that as the trip went on longer and longer, each of us was unable to keep our good faces.  People got greasy hair and the make-up wore off.  The longer we sat on the bus sweating and revealing our ubiquitous ugliness, we became closer and more intimate.  After the mutual embarrassment wore off and we forgot how dreadful we all looked and smelled, we started to trust each other more.  We disclosed our real selves, found out we were very much alike, and learned to love each other. 

            When the trip was over, we felt like family, and none of us wanted the trip to end.  Each of our loneliness’ and isolations had been suspended for a few days.  Through these trips I was able to get to know someone better in a few days than I was otherwise able to in a whole year.   

            I wonder if this isn’t what it is like to live in a “developing” country.  People who are poor find that they do not have time or energy to hide from one another (let alone put make-up on!).  The mutual need for survival binds them together and breaks down the walls that lead to our affluent isolation.  As they say, it is much more difficult for missionaries to acclimate coming back to the U.S. than the initial adjustment to living overseas, maybe this explains why. 

            When I was on these trips, I was able to discover that being myself resulted in spiritual growth.  Realness and spirituality were no longer separated.  This brought great relief because I could be myself, not play politics and still be considered spiritual.  In our churches, too often, those we define as spiritually mature are those who are better at hiding their weaknesses.  Looking right on the outside is a very successful way of fooling yourself and others that you are spiritually mature.  Looking and speaking like a Christian usually fools most people.  Being sincere, and gifted or talented doesn’t make us mature either.  Yet, too often, the people who lead the church are just our greatest politicians and modern day Pharisees.  These people are afraid of the truth and are good at redefining it so that they come out on top. 

             Part of being real is being committed to the truth even if it makes you unpopular.  My experience is that the truth usually does make you unpopular.  Prophets usually become martyrs because they speak the truth.  Prophets become popular after they are dead and the truth they have spoken comes true.  Posterity vindicates their death.   

            When I was a pastor, I found people wanted and expected me to tell them what they wanted to hear.  Some people appreciated the truth, but most preferred that I not ruffle their feathers.  I have found the positions of teaching and counseling more conducive to speaking the truth.  It is difficult to do this as a pastor because the people who you need to confront with the truth are your bosses.  Most pastors find it easier and more pragmatic to calmly avoid the truth or to couch it in ways to make successful people feel good about themselves.  This only keeps the church sick and, ironically, a place where needy people feel uncomfortable. 

            As a counselor, it is not only my job to fully understand someone, but also, once this understanding has been accomplished, to confront them with things they do not or cannot see about themselves.  Most clients want this from me.  Most feel their money and time is well spent if I help them discover what has been tripping them up and continually making their life counterproductive.  If I can help them discover this in a loving, accepting environment, they have the opportunity to make changes and feel more empowered to do so.   

            I have had more than one pastor tell me not to go into the pastorate because of the politics they have to suffer through.  Doing parachurch youth work, being a professor, and a counselor affords me the luxury of being in the ministry without having to deal with the political headaches of the church.  I believe the political nature of the church, dissuades many qualified and gifted potential ministers from being pastors.  I also think it is a meat grinder that chews up and spits out many of its finest servants, leaving them bewildered, burnt out, and betrayed.  The church needs to take better care of those who have been called into full-time service, so they in turn can minister from a full cup. 

            In summary, I believe the most fundamental thing about being real is being honest.  In order for you to be real you have to be honest with yourself.  This honesty produces people who are genuine and congruent.  Of course, this honesty always has a price with it (as in the Velveteen Rabbit).   

            Sometimes when I think of the cost of honesty, I think about when Jesus said, that “you will know the truth and the truth will set you free.”  I sometimes wish that He would have said something more like, “you will know the truth, the truth will cost everything you have, it will turn you upside down and make everything that isn’t nailed down fall out of your pockets, it will make feel as if your head is going to fall off, it will make you perspire like you have never perspired before and, when its had its way with you it will turn you right-side up and, then and only then will it set you free.   

            Therefore, Jesus was saying, the reward of honesty (freedom) makes the cost of honesty (being shook up like nothing else in this world can do) a no-brainer.  The truth about you and me makes it possible for us to be free to be ourselves with ourselves and with other people.  The cost is worth it because God transforms us into real people.  

Click here to read Chapter 7