Buddhist Catholic Contemplative Evangelical General Christian Hindu Jewish Latter-day Saint Muslim New Visions Progressive Christian

Beliefs

Topics

Columnists

Resource Library

Research Tools

Video

Podcasts

Thought Readers

Faith In Media Tracker

Newsletters

Ad-Free & Subscriber Log-In Subscription Support

Follow Patheos

Cedars and Sandhills

Home
Family, Parenting and Religion
Between Prison Cells and Pedestals

Between Prison Cells and Pedestals

Last updated on: June 25, 2012 at 6:48 pm by Zeke Pipher

Between Prison Cells and Pedestals 2012-06-25T18:48:31-06:00 Zeke Pipher

LOGO Patheos Explore the world's faith through different perspectives on religion and spirituality! Patheos has the views of the prevalent religions and spiritualities of the world.

If any normal person has a bad moment and, say, yells at someone in public, that’s one thing.

If a pastor in a small town does it, well, that’s something different.

My bad moment happened last year while I was coaching my son’s baseball game. Somebody tell me, what is it about youth baseball? Yogi Berra once said, “Little league baseball is a very good thing because it keeps the parents off the streets.” There’s truth to that comment—little league takes big-hearted carpoolers off the streets, puts them on the bleachers, and morphs them into snarling sportscasters.

Last year, on a warm night in July, it turned me into something akin to John McEnroe. The coach of the opposing team was at third base while his team was at bat. Every time one of our players made an overthrow or bobbled the ball, he’d wave his hands and send his runners an extra base. And then another. His base runner at first was making it to third on a single because the six-year-olds on my team were, well, six-year-olds, and they hadn’t learned to play with the majors yet.

By the third inning I was hot. The kids on my team were getting more and more discouraged, and the coach at third seemed to be getting more and more aggresive.

I lost it. I took a few steps toward the coach, and growled, “You having fun?”

He looked in my direction. “What?”

I kept going. “You’re sending your kids on everything. Does that feel good?”

He replied, “You got a problem?”

“Yeah, I do. You’re making my team feel like garbage.”

He took a couple steps toward me, and I took a couple steps toward him. Our sunglasses ended up about three feet away from each other. We chattered at each other like a couple of angry squirrels while a few young eyes watched in awe. For about three minutes, I was the biggest kid on the field.

We eventually turned away from each other and huffed off to our respective dugouts.

I eventually cooled down. I apologized to my team after the game. A couple weeks later, I bumped into that coach at a Dairy Queen and I asked for his forgiveness as well. But I fielded comments from our community for the next few weeks.

I’ve always wondered how other pastors view themselves, but I feel like an extraordinarily normal guy. I know my flaws. I know my inabilities. I know my tendencies to sin. The first time someone suggested that I become a pastor, I chuckled and responded emphatically, “Are you kidding? I’m not the pastor-type.”

I still feel that way a good share of the time. Not a week goes by that I don’t hear another pastor pray, or preach, or counsel, and think to myself, “Wow, he’s good…I wish I could do those things as well as he does.”

What’s more, I’m painfully aware of my bad moments, even the ones that don’t manifest themselves through my words. I know my thoughts, feelings, and motivations, and, trust me, they are very raw and unrefined sometimes.

All that to say, I think I was the only one on the ball field that night who wasn’t surprised that I had it in me to yell at someone.

Do I wish I hadn’t yelled at that guy? Yeah…absolutely! I wish I could take that memory out of my son’s head. I wish I hadn’t ruined the other coach’s night. (He really is a decent guy.) But, now that it’s all said and done, I’m thankful for something that came out of it: I showed my community that I haven’t figured out how to live an error-free life. I’m human, and as such, prone to bad moments.

I do believe that our leaders, spiritual and otherwise, need to be held to a higher standard. It’s cliché, but character does count. But so does a genuine display of humanness. Someplace between prison cells and pedestals, there’s room for authentic trying, and failing, and then trying again. There’s something so basic about leaning on and savoring the free grace of God—sometimes that’s all I feel I contribute to the mix. Perhaps that’s enough.

I’m curious: How do you view your pastor or spiritual leaders? Would you freak out if they did something radically NON-PASTORAL, displaying their humanness? What would you do? Leave me a comment and let me know what you think of pastors, spiritual leaders, and their need for grace.

Uncategorized

John McEnroe

Little League

Pastors Behaving Badly

temper

Yogi Berra

Previous Post

June 20, 2012

Dead As A Beaver Hat

Next Post

June 26, 2012 Laying The Smack Down

Browse Our Archives

Select a Category Uncategorized

Select a Month July 2016 June 2016 May 2016 November 2015 October 2015 September 2015 August 2015 July 2015 June 2015 April 2015 March 2015 February 2015 January 2015 January 2014 December 2013 November 2013 October 2013 September 2013 June 2013 May 2013 April 2013 March 2013 February 2013 January 2013 December 2012 November 2012 October 2012 September 2012 August 2012 July 2012 June 2012

TAKE THE

Religious Wisdom Quiz

Which book of the Bible is written as a song of love between a bride and groom?

Select your answer to see how you score.

Song of Songs Proverbs Psalms Ecclesiastes