
“I’ve got a
question for you?” the good doctor said, just clearing the door of
the coffee shop where we often start the day at adjacent round
tops. After dropping his newspaper on the table, ordering his
“usual” — a whole grain bagel and latte — and settling in, he
poised the query that had been bouncing around in his mind.
“How do you all determine success? Is it the size of the church,
finances, the number of souls saved?”
Assuming the
“you all” referred to ministers, Baptists or at least
church-oriented folks, I slid my laptop to the side, removed my
reading glasses, smiled and told him a quick answer was
unavailable.
“I try not to
reveal too much of a messianic complex, Doc,” I responded, “but,
like Jesus, let me answer your question with a story.”
For some reason,
my mind immediately retrieved one of the late John Claypool’s
personal and poignant accounts from the early days of the Civil
Rights movement.
It was the time
when Martin Luther King Jr. went to Louisville, Ky., and the two
friends — both former associate pastors in Atlanta-area Baptist
churches — were photographed together by the local newspaper.
The fallout was
immediate, and Claypool said he was strongly encouraged to
publicly distance himself from the racial struggle by some
influential lay leaders who felt his association with King and the
movement would harm the church.
The specific
warning, Claypool recalled, was that taking a stand on the
controversial social issue of the day would keep the church from
being “successful,” to which the soft-spoken pastor replied: “God
does not call us to be successful, but to be faithful.”
Claypool, ever
the self-critic, confessed that he had spent his entire adult life
seeking “success” even at the expense of “faithfulness.” But he
believed his answer was right, even if he personally had not
always sought that high goal.
Whether my
hastily recalled tale got anywhere near answering the doctor’s
sincere question of success, I don’t know. My caffeine-consuming
friend probably felt like the schoolboy who was asked to write a
little paper on penguins and was handed a 1,000-page volume by the
librarian, to which he responded: “I don’t want to know that
much about penguins.”
A more succinct
answer, I’m sure, would have been appreciated. But I’m unaware of
one that does justice to the good question that generations of
Christians have sought to answer.
Indeed, numbers
— “nickels and noses,” as some call them — have relevance. The
only ones who tend to dismiss numbers totally are those with
little or none to show.
Statistical data
often give us a clearer understanding of the impact — or lack
thereof — we are making. Yet we all know that gathering a mob and
overfilling coffers can be used for good or ill.
Success — by
most modern definitions — is never really addressed by the
biblical text. However, faithfulness is repeatedly.
Whatever we
accomplish as individual followers of Christ and through our
shared endeavors must be done as clear and unbending efforts to be
faithful to our divine calling, even when immediate results may
not meet some definitions of success.
Perhaps
the higher goal of Christian living is to be successfully faithful
in all we do.