Orginally published on Monday, November 26, 2007 at 6:30 AM
by Earl Creps
“Do you like sushi?” The pastor’s question took me by surprise. Living (for now) in southwest Missouri, I’m more likely to be asked about catfish than raw fish. But I was in northern California about to preach on a Sunday morning when the issue arose. The pastor (Ed Tyler of Christian Life Center in Santa Cruz) and I were discussing options for lunch that day. For a nanosecond my mind froze—because I don’t like sushi, which perhaps is related to living in catfish country more than to any fault with the food itself. I would not have experienced the freeze had Ed and I been just talking as friends while drinking vacuum process coffees at LuLu's in downtown Santa Cruz. But he pastors a church we were asking to support our church start-up—and that’s different. Now, Ed is my friend and his church gave us a warm reception. But when soliciting funding for church starting (Berkeley in our case) the pressure to alloy every relationship with financial politics is incessant. Can anyone be just my friend when I need to raise so much money? Can I even blog about this?
The truth is that, during that nanosecond, I felt the temptation to lie. What would happen if I told Ed my true feelings about raw fish? Would our lunch go badly, and then would his church become reluctant to support our start-up, and then would our bright hopes land in a smoking crater—all caused by tiny rolls of undercooked seafood?
In retrospect, I know how ridiculous this sounds. But, a number of my global missionary friends have told me off the record about the danger of disintegrating as a person under these pressures. I mean that literally: dis-integrate, living a laminated life of two layers, a private self that is sheltered from real transformation by a public self that curries favor with potential supporters, upline leaders, and anyone else needed to build the ministry (which eventually becomes almost everyone).
The competitive pressures of knowing that hundreds of others are also raising budgets add more dis-integrating stresses. In short, the path of least resistance is to tell people what they want to hear for the purpose of marketing your ministry successfully. This temptation certainly is not unique to church planters, but it is daily.
“No.” That was my answer to Ed. “We don’t like sushi.” He looked mildly surprised, but I think that stemmed more from the fact that everyone in Santa Cruz probably enjoys it, rather than from any shock value in my answer. Later, he joked with me that, from now on, we would refer to anything I don’t like as, “sushi.” (I think of this as a wonderful alternative to profanity: “Man, that’s just a bunch of sushi!")
We had Italian food in a casual outdoor café that Sunday. The danger of eating raw fish passed without incident. Had we simply been taken to a sushi restaurant, I would have gone along and eaten lunch there without complaint—and might have learned a new appreciation for this kind of food. But that’s not what happened.
Saying “yes” to Ed’s question would certainly not have been the end of the world. And I get the whole issue of adapting to cultures, eating what local folks eat, etc. But saying a small untruth this time makes the next one easier, and then the next one.
Perhaps, like fish, the truth is best served raw.
About the Author: Earl Creps has spent several years visiting congregations that are attempting to engage emerging culture. Until recently he directsed doctoral studies for the Assemblies of God Theological Seminary in Springfield, Missouri (http://www.agts.edu
This post has been viewed 649 times so far.
I'm a chronic workaholic, love to connect leaders with other leaders, and would consider myself somewhat of a 'maven'. Hopefully you'll find something here at MMI you'll like and will return often. If you want, you can find out more about me or follow my every step.
![]()
Post Your Comments: