RP - In the Name of Jesus
Ya... this one really got to me
Never in my life have I read so short a book that packed such a punch. This book has changed me and I am still very much wrestling with it’s implications. I cannot recommend it enough - even if it’s just so I don’t have to be alone in grappling with it.
Here is the book: In the Name of Jesus
I hope these reflections encourage you to pick the book up as well.
“I woke up one day with the realization that I was living in a very dark place and that the term ‘burnout’ was a convenient psychological translation for a spiritual death” (20). These words by Henri Nouwen in the introduction of In the Name of Jesus snapped me to attention as I started reading. They serve as a bit of a haunting and likely true warning to a reality that many have experienced or are currently experiencing. When you consider the idea of leadership, particularly within the realm of the Christian paradigm of leadership, I’m not sure I’ve read so piercing a text as this book. When I finished reading, I felt a number of different emotions, some of which caught me quite off guard. I felt the typical things one might feel when finishing a book, such as contentment and satisfaction, but I also felt a bit of anger and confusion as well. I felt anger because I can’t forget what Nouwen wrote. It has changed me, and I have to let certain things within me die as a result. I felt confusion because some of my inner desires were confronted by Nouwen’s writing—desires that before now I had not thought of as inherently wrong or inhibitive to Christian leadership, and now I’m not so sure what to do with those. Regardless of how I have been left feeling, the first thing I’ve done upon completing the book is recommend it to some of my closest friends. This book is short in stature but unbelievably potent in message.
Nouwen examined the temptation of Jesus in the desert as well as Jesus’ commission to Peter after his resurrection for his source material, and from these pericopes he devised three principles which serve as the structure for the book. To be a Christian leader of the future, one must look to move from relevance to prayer, from popularity to ministry, and from leading to being led. Each of these embodies a temptation and a discipline to protect one from the temptations. While I’ve heard versions of these ideas taught before in various places and by various voices, none of them have quite struck me as Nouwen has with his simplicity and power. Nouwen’s career trajectory only adds to the validity and trustworthiness of his claims. To go from such esteemed institutions as Harvard and Yale to the unglamorous work of living with and ministering to the mentally handicapped at L’Arche is unbelievably challenging to me.
In the first chapter, Nouwen breaks down the temptation of Jesus to be relevant through the devil goading him to turn stones into bread. Nouwen reflects back on his own experience transitioning into the L’Arche community of mentally handicapped and how humbling that was. He states, “These broken, wounded, and completely unpretentious people forced me to let go of my relevant self—the self that can do things, show things, prove things, build things—and forced me to reclaim that unadorned self in which I am completely vulnerable, open to receive and give love regardless of any accomplishments” (28). This idea of the “unadorned self” is deeply moving to me. How many of us are comfortable with this self? How many of us consider first what we can offer others or what they can offer to us? This state of utter vulnerability is pure: pure in its ability to offer itself to others but, more acutely, pure in its nakedness. In the garden, man and woman were naked and felt no shame—they were unadorned. But as fallen humans, how often do we not scramble desperately to cover our unadorned and naked self—to cover our shame—so that we are not known for who we are but rather for what we can do? This unadorned self is a profoundly deep call that all must come to terms with, especially those in leadership. After all, do we truly know the love of God if we have not offered this self to God? And if we do not know this love, what are we extending or exemplifying to others?
To build on this idea, Nouwen moved into wrestling with the emotional experience of low self-esteem. He states, “One of the main sufferings experienced in the ministry is that of low self-esteem” (31). This builds seamlessly on the experience of someone who looks at the unadorned self and compares themselves to the adornments of others. Nouwen chases this thread by examining modern narratives around efficiency and control to show how despair can easily set into the mind of any who live in our current world. This is where the idea of irrelevance is redeemed by Christ and put to work. If the world is drowning in the despair of not knowing true love of the unadorned self, how much more potent will the love and peaceful life of an “irrelevant” leader be to those struggling to cope? If someone sinking in culture’s narratives sees an unadorned life that is fulfilled and at peace, what a witness that can be! In Nouwen’s own words, “The leaders of the future will be those who dare to claim their irrelevance in the contemporary world as a divine vocation that allows them to enter into a deep solidarity with the anguish underlying all the glitter of success, and to bring the light of Jesus there” (35).
When Jesus calls Peter to ministry after his resurrection he does so through a question, “Do you love me?” Nouwen suggests that this question is central to all ministry. He makes the case that Christian leadership is not about how productive, efficient, or impressive you are but rather, quite simply, do you love Jesus? Within this Nouwen focuses on Christ’s “first love”—the love spoken of when scripture states that we love because Jesus loved us first (1 John 4:19). This is entirely unlike the “second love” that we experience from one another because this second love always has “the chance of rejection, withdrawal, punishment, blackmail, violence, and even hatred” (40). The first love is the love for the unadorned self that Jesus has for us all, and knowing this love is essential. Knowing this love is knowing Jesus truly and that “every time fear, isolation, or despair begins to invade the human soul, this is not something that comes from God” (38). Knowing this love is what compels us to bring the healing witness of Jesus from our heads to our hands in everyday life, and Nouwen contends that one of the foremost ways to go about knowing this love is through the discipline of contemplative prayer. He states quite clearly that, “Christian leaders cannot simply be persons who have well-informed opinions about the burning issues of our time. Their leadership must be rooted in the permanent, intimate relationship with the incarnate Word, Jesus, and they need to find there the source for their words, advice, and guidance” (45). It is only when we are secure in our identity as truly beloved children of God, wholly loved in our unadorned state, that “it will be possible to remain flexible without being relativistic, convinced without being rigid, willing to confront without being offensive, gentle and forgiving without being soft, and true witnesses without being manipulative” (46–47). This passage felt strikingly similar to the passage from Paul in 1 Corinthians 13:1–3, specifically in verse 2 when he states, “… if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I gain nothing…” In our lives, our leadership, and in our relationships if we do not know the first love of God, how could we ever hope to truly love another and provide authentic witness to the world?
The second temptation of Jesus was a temptation to do something spectacular to win him popularity. Nouwen again refers to his own experience transitioning into the L’Arche community from Harvard and the individualistic mindset he had at that time. He says that he was made to feel wholly prepared for ministry as an individual by his education. “I was made to feel like a man sent on a long, long hike with a huge backpack containing all the things necessary to help the people I would meet on the road” (51). But this individualistic approach to ministry is all wrong to Nouwen because it can contribute to an unconscious search for popularity or significance among others, and it also contributes to how congregants themselves view and treat their leaders. In my own words, individualism’s obsession with the spectacular, sensational, and popular has infiltrated the church and our leaders.
To this temptation to popularity, Nouwen pulls on the task Jesus gave to Peter three times to “feed my sheep” (John 21:15–17). In this he points out the reality that ministry is a communal and a mutual experience for Christian leaders (57). Ministry is not individualistic—it was never intended to be so. Jesus sent his disciples out in pairs, Jesus did ministry alongside his disciples himself, and Jesus has also sent the Spirit to us as a counselor and guide for life and ministry. As Christians, we aren’t just called to live in community with one another to enjoy the warmth that only community provides, but we are also called to minister IN community as well. This is where Nouwen points out that the Christian leader must not only minister to their community, but they must also be ministered to by their community. Specifically, Nouwen states that confession and forgiveness are indispensable. “Confession and forgiveness are the concrete forms in which we sinful people love one another” (64). How can a community really know their leader if their leader is removed and unknown? How can a community trust their leader if they know not the leader’s flaws and see how they rely upon the Spirit? And how can a leader truly be humble and not addicted to popularity or relevance if they are not confessing their sins and forgiven by their community? In Nouwen’s own words, he states that Jesus “wants Peter to feed his sheep and care for them, not as ‘professionals’ who know their clients’ problems and take care of them, but as vulnerable brothers and sisters who know and are known, who care and are cared for, who forgive and are being forgiven, who love and are being loved… how can we lay down our life for those with whom we are not even allowed to enter into a deep personal relationship? Laying down your life means making your own faith and doubt, hope and despair, joy and sadness, courage and fear available to others as ways of getting in touch with the Lord of life” (61).
Where the world’s scripts say that leadership is efficient and control-oriented, the way of Jesus states that leadership is communal and mutual. There is a tangible tension between these ideas, for certainly communal work is not efficient, and you must surrender control to live and work mutually with others. Even now I’m aware of an example of seeing poor leadership playing out in the work environment of someone close to me. They are witnessing their leaders scramble to maintain power (control) because their image of being competent and capable is threatened. Those working below them are reprimanded for showing ways their needs were not met by leadership, and rather than an apology or confession of falling short they are given a verbal warning to not be so disrespectful. As stated above, the practices of confession and forgiveness would do absolute wonders for this working community, but in the absence of such practices a culture of fear, mistrust, and authoritarianism is beginning to take root. From my perspective, this lived experience in real time only adds tremendous validity to Nouwen’s words. It must also be said that it was in this section that he warns leaders to the dangers of temptations to carnality. When leaders are tempted to turn spirituality into spiritualization, the temptation to sexual sin is crouching and waiting to strike. This, again, is why confession and forgiveness are essential. For leaders in the pulpit, this does not mean airing out each and every sin in detail for all. Nouwen suggests the practical advice that leaders need a safe place to put things, specifically a place “where they can share their deep pain and struggles with people who do not need them, but who can guide them ever deeper into the mystery of God’s love.”
The final temptation of Jesus was the temptation to power. In our daily lives, sometimes this temptation can be quite overt and in-your-face, but other times it can be much more subtle. In Nouwen’s own experience, he recalls the implicit narrative in his mind that by simply aging and growing more mature, he viewed himself as somehow more worthy of and equipped to lead others—someone who, in my own words, can exercise a degree of power in the lives of others. As Nouwen entered L’Arche, however, this was confronted rather plainly. He states, “Without realizing it, the people I came to live with made me aware of the extent to which my leadership was still a desire to control complex situations, confused emotions, and anxious minds” (74). This temptation to power is an endemic temptation to humanity inside and outside the church. Within the church, however, it is wildly ironic since Jesus himself, whom we proclaim and follow, gave up his place of power in order to be with us. In Nouwen’s exploration of why the temptation of power is so irresistible, I found an entirely unique idea I haven’t encountered before. “Maybe it is that power offers an easy substitute for the hard task of love. It seems easier to be God than to love God, easier to control people than to love people, easier to own life than to love life… we have been tempted to replace love with power” (77). Could it be that power is so insidious because it is the opposite of love?
Jesus finishes his commissioning of Peter by stating that there will be people who will take Peter where he would rather not go. I agree with Nouwen that our culture tells us that as we grow older, we are successful if we have earned the right to go where we want in retirement and do what we want to do-it boils down to our decision, not anyone else’s. But Jesus seems to offer an antagonistic picture to us through Peter’s life of leadership in the church. Nouwen states, “But Jesus has a different vision of maturity: It is the ability and willingness to be led where you would rather not go” (81). This is why Nouwen would suggest that being a Christian leader also means that you are committed to move from leading to being led. The example of Jesus is plain to see—it is not a picture of upward mobility but one of downward mobility that ends in the cross (81–82). It is in this section that Nouwen states that we have arrived at the most important quality of Christian leaders of the future: “It is not a leadership of power and control, but a leadership of powerlessness and humility in which the suffering servant of God, Jesus Christ, is made manifest” (82). Nouwen states that true spiritual leadership is one that constantly abandons power in favor of love. When tempted by power we must choose love, when tempted by control we must choose the cross, and when tempted to take sole reign of leadership we must commit to being led as well. This story goes all the way back to the garden of Eden and the temptation to self-autonomy over the loving and humble submission of being led by God.
To end the section, Nouwen throws in a brief note that the Christian leader of the future needs to be “radically poor” in the material sense (84). Ending with only a paragraph on this felt a bit like throwing a grenade into a room and shutting the door to see what happens. What an unbelievably difficult teaching to take. He does not say leaders might be poor or that leaders should be willing to be poor—he says that leaders “need” to be poor. I struggle with this deeply, and I also struggle with the reality that I struggle with this. I have often looked to the prayer in Proverbs 30 for neither wealth nor poverty, and Nouwen seems to be more so encouraging a sort of poverty here. I wish I could ask him about this and seek his thoughts on my questions.
The final discipline that Nouwen says the Christian leader needs is theological reflection, even going so far as to repeatedly state “strenuous theological reflection” is what is needed (85). I honestly feel as though I could write an entire paper on this section alone—it is so unbelievably rich. Here I found Nouwen coming with a bit of a stronger hand for Christian leaders to wrestle with because he believes this to be an area where many leaders lack real substance. He states that very few Christian leaders in fact think theologically at all! He states that “Most Christian leaders today raise psychological or sociological questions even though they frame them in spiritual terms,” and that “without solid theological reflection, future leaders will be little more than pseudo-psychologists, pseudo-sociologists, pseudo-social workers.” The problem with this, of course, is that if/when this is true, they will, “join the countless men and women who make a living by trying to help their fellow human beings cope with the stresses and strains of everyday living” (86). Now, it must be stated that this is all well and good, but this is not Christian leadership—Nouwen makes that quite clear. Rather, as an alternative vision, he states that “the task of future Christian leaders is not to make a little contribution to the solution of the pains and tribulations of their time, but to identify and announce the ways in which Jesus is leading God’s people out of slavery, through the desert to a new land of freedom” (87). This will not happen without the discipline of theological reflection. To understand the material day-to-day lives of ourselves and those around us and to contemplate and reflect with the Spirit on the mystic realities at play is required. This task of theological reflection is what Nouwen refers to as reflection “with the mind of Jesus” (88). This type of reflection will allow us to discern where we are being led and what is needed in the lives of those around us. However, we cannot think our way into competency here—we must remember that this is not about power or control. Nouwen makes that plain when he states, “This cannot be just an intellectual training. It requires a deep spiritual formation involving the whole person—body, mind, and heart” (90).
In this book, Nouwen has compellingly stated that the Christian leaders we need in the church are those who consistently look to move from relevance to prayer, from popularity to mutual ministry, and from leadership based on power to a thoughtful and humble leadership where God may lead as He wills. I am sincerely wrestling with his teachings on the necessity to be poor, and I am very interested in continuing to explore his idea that we choose power oftentimes because we don’t want to do the hard work of love. I am forever changed by this book, and I don’t know that I will ever view ministry and leadership the same as a result. While I know that Nouwen was not perfect himself (I’m sure he’d be the first in line to adamantly insist this) and therefore his writings aren’t perfect, I will seek to live into his principle of strenuous theological reflection with the mind of Christ to learn how to apply and carry these words with me. I hope to return often to the pages of this book because I’m not sure I’ve ever read something as aptly suited to humble the Christian leader as Nouwen’s In the Name of Jesus.