second-class

IS IT A SIN TO BE AVERAGE?

By Larry Osborne | Senior Pastor, North Coast Church

As a young pastor I had the idea that God calls every Christian to do great things. My faith heroes were all mountain-moving, charge-the-hill spiritual warriors. I assumed full submission to Jesus would transform anyone into a spiritual Braveheart; kicking-butt for Jesus and marshalling a battalion of others to do the same.

It sounded good. It was motivational. It was pure baloney.

Worse, it was spiritually dangerous. Not just for me, but for my flock. It filled me and the rest of our leaders with pride. It overwhelmed my congregation and non-leader types with unrealistic and unreachable standards of spirituality. And, I'm pretty sure, it ticked God off.

Are Average People Second Class?
The problem was that, like many leaders, I believed there was something seriously wrong with low-drive Christians. I tended to project my own passion and calling onto everyone else. Since I'd heard my call so clearly, I assumed anyone who didn't share the same vision and fervor must not be listening to what God had to say.

But then he brought two remarkable people into my life. They weren't remarkable for what they accomplished; they were remarkable for who they were.

Both were as godly in character as anyone I've ever met, but neither one had a leadership bone in them. When it came time to charge the hill, they opted to serve on the supply line. When I called on people to step out and do something daring, they smiled and politely demurred. And they weren't much for "spiritual disciplines" either. They couldn't point to a lot of kingdom accomplishments.

But when it came to obeying scripture their character, relationships, and integrity, they were two of the most Christlike people I'd ever met.

Frankly, I didn't know what to do with them. Their godliness messed with my head. It contradicted all my paradigms of spirituality. For the first time, I began to wonder if God could actually be pleased with simple folks who love him, love their family and friends, and then die without ever having done (or wanting to do) anything significant. To put it more bluntly, I began to wonder if there was room in the kingdom for mediocrity. Could someone be average and still please God?

I've come to the conclusion that the answer is yes — a resounding yes.

Now it's important to note that I am not talking about cold and lukewarm Christians who wave the banner of Christ but live as they please. I'm talking about wonderful people of integrity and obedience to God's Word who simply don't register much on the intensity or impact meter—and never will.

They aren't second-class citizens.

If you think about it, by definition, half of any group will always be below average - no matter what scale we use. These people matter to God. Yet I viewed them as subpar. And in so doing, I did them and our Lord a disservice every time I beat them down with exhortations and pathways of discipleship designed primarily to motivate and produce leaders.

I've since come to realize that if our church doesn't provide pathways of spirituality that work for everyone, we're presenting only a partial gospel; good news for leader types, but a suffocating and harsh yoke for everyone else.

Studies show that over fifty percent of men will never read a book. Yet most of our models of discipleship emphasize reading and personal Bible study. It's as if we can't conceive of anyone being spiritually mature before the Guttenberg Press.

Or have you noticed that most of our books on spirituality are written by hard charging type-A personalities or introverts, with bright minds, a passion for reflection, high self-discipline, and good education?

There's lots of good stuff in there. But to the dyslectic, the adult with ADD, the overwhelmed mom with three preschoolers underfoot, or the shy types who get tongue-tied and panicked when asked to talk to a stranger about Jesus, the path they offer isn't one of knowing God better as much as it's a path of shame and inadequacy.

Those of us with hill-charging vision have to find ways to grow and disciple those who want to stay and live in the suburbs while we conquer the world. We have to affirm the kind of folks Paul was addressing when he wrote: Make it your ambition to lead a quiet life, to mind your own business and to work with your hands, just as we told you, so that your daily life may win the respect of outsiders and so that you will not be dependent on anybody. 1 Thessalonians 4:11-12

What I Learned From A Shoemaker In Corinth
My heart for non-leader types was awakened by my two friends mentioned above. But it solidified while reading through the New Testament. As I was reflecting upon the early church and the church-planting efforts of the apostle Paul, it dawned on me how much my leadership bias had blinded me to the reality of life in the first-century church.

For instance, I'd always assumed that Timothy, Titus, Silas, and the rest of Paul's missionary partners represented the standard fruit of his ministry, that they represented what every Christian under my leadership needed to know and what they all, ideally, would become.

But I was missing the obvious. Timothy and Titus were not the standard fruit of Paul's ministry. They were the rare and unusual; they were leaders. Most everyone else (the vast majority of the people Paul led to Christ and the vast majority of people in the churches he planted), never became leaders or joined Paul on one of his missionary journeys. Instead, they stayed behind as the farmers and merchants, mothers and fathers, sons and daughters who did nothing more than quietly live out changed lives through Christ.

I began to recognize the miracle and majesty of what I now call the "Cobbler in Corinth." I don't mean the pie. I mean the Corinthian shoemaker who after turning to Christ stopped visiting the temple prostitutes, became scrupulously honest in his business dealings, and started treating his wife and children with a love and respect unknown in the pagan and Roman world. And though he may have never planted a church, spent hours in study or solitude, or courageously preached on a street corner, he crossed the finish line still loving and following Jesus.

In God's eyes his life was a win-a big win. But in my eyes, up to that point, he was a loser, a pew sitter, a drain on missional focus.

Yet in reality, it was the "cobblers" left behind in Corinth who turned the ancient world upside down just as much as the zealous missionaries bouncing from town to town. Both were needed. Someone had to be out on the edge, spreading the word; someone had to stay behind and live it out.

All this has radically altered my approach to ministry and discipleship. It's not that I've stopped focusing on leaders and leadership development. It's not that I've lost vision or the drive to do great things with God.

But I have stopped trying to make everyone into a leader.

I no longer confuse spirituality with leadership, or zeal with righteousness.

As a result, our church has leaders AND followers who honor one another and live out their different callings to the glory of God and the expansion of his kingdom. For me and our leaders it's been a great thing — it's undercut our pride. For the average guy and gal in our church it's been a freeing thing — it's released them from the false guilt of comparison and gift projection.

And I'm pretty sure God is no longer ticked off. Because my zeal and passion is no longer leading our flock toward a land that was first settled by a previous group of spiritual zealots. The folks we call Pharisees.