What do we Reward?

Upon leaving ministry the first time I was encouraged by a trusted well-schooled friend to pursue high levels of education because “it will change you.”  I’m still not entirely sure what it meant to the speaker, but well into a master’s program I can cite one major change in my way of thinking.  Speech-language pathology is what is known as an evidenced-based practice or EBP for short.  In a nut shell EBP demands that clinical decisions should be made in light of the best possible evidence.  The gold-standard of evidence is multiple randomized controlled trials from a published journal.  The lowest level of evidence is “expert opinion” (meaning it lacks research data) or clinical judgment.  I’ve over simplified EBP, but you probably get the idea.  Those three little letters written with a question mark in the margin in red ink on a clinical report can ruin your entire day.  Even worse, during a conference your supervisor may interrupt you with the simple question:  “what’s your EBP?” 

EBP has a grounding effect on thinking.  It is easy to become carried away in two directions:  1) doing what’s easy or 2) choosing a treatment that “sounds interesting.”  EBP limits both tendencies.  The clinician is neither rewarded for tradition nor innovation solely for tradition or innovation’s sake.  In principle, the clinician is rewarded for performance.  Oh, I forgot to mention.  Not only does EBP demand data in choosing treatment, but data is tracked on every session to determine the efficacy of treatment.  

I read plenty of ministry books and blogs.  I listen to a lot of sermons on iTunes.  Here is what I’ve noticed.  Ministers are rewarded (with our praise, attention, positive feedback etc…) for being interesting.  They are rewarded for agreeing with our pet philosophies.  Perversely, they are even rewarded for criticizing the church in some instances.  Probably because when we blame “the church” it relieves the individual of short comings.  But mostly, preachers are rewarded for eliciting our emotions.

I stand guilty.  I’ve told sad stories from the pulpit.  Tragic stories: stories difficult to repeat.  I think I was honoring God in making a larger point.  I’ve also used humor; stories from the past or refashioned jokes as ice-breakers.  Hopefully, it served a greater end, but I also enjoyed the rhetorical mileage along the way.  The best preacher/teacher I’ve ever encountered at incorporating illustrations with a larger message is Rick Atchley.  Granted, I don’t think Rick is fixing the office copier or making hospital rounds like the average non-mega church preacher, but the man uses illustrations effectively and not merely as filler or to emotionally manipulate his audience. 

Most ministers are highly educated.  Their opinions are respected near universally with everyone within their bubble.  Maybe long ago, in our restoration heritage we were in the habit of asking for “book-chapter-verse.”  But, even that system is rife with the corruption of proof-texting and manipulation.  Today, more missionally-minded brethren will use buzz words like “imagination” and “story” as modern day proof-texts when passing off opinion as scripture.

I don’t bring this up to “go after” anybody and I don’t for a second think that we need less interesting or less-emotional sermons (ok, some youth speakers are flat out manipulative and should use less emotion, including myself).  But, we need to label our ideas for what they are.  Opinions are just that, opinions.  Scripture is scripture and anecdotal experience is just that as well.  Sometime ago a blogger noted a “trend line” within churches.  I asked for the data points of said trend line.  I was told there aren’t any data points on the trend line.  Hmmmm, a practitioner of EBP pulls out their last hair while screaming, “am I on crazy pills?”    

I recently finished Heaven on Earth by Joshua Graves and Chris Seidman.  It’s a light read checking in at just over 100 pages.  These are two incredibly thoughtful men.  I was moved to tears during one of the early chapters (Joshua Graves can write).  In the end, I fear I missed something (I did read the book with Kip and Callie in the same room, so it could be reader inattention).  Maybe the book didn’t intend to be rhetorically rewarding in the first place.  But when I read the last chapter I felt like I may as well have read a Chicken Soup for the Soul book.  One chapter in particular was virtually all illustration and nearly zero substance (the one on blessed are the pure in heart).  After every book/blog/sermon I inventory what I added to my bag of knowledge/truth/wisdom/empathy/edification.  Maybe I’m jaded, but I seem to be adding fewer items of one sort and more and more of another sort.  Possibly I’m guilty of applying some heart/mind dualism that doesn’t exist in scripture.  It just seems that so much preaching/teaching consists of too much sizzle (emotional illustration/anecdote/opinion) and not enough steak (truth/facts/scripture, etc…).  Perhaps that is a poor analogy.  Let’s say good preaching/teaching is lemonade.  It requires the sweetness of sugar and the cutting strength of lemon.  In a prior time many may have erred more on the side of too much lemon.  In our time, I at least, feel sugar bloated. 

Ministry exclusively deals in non-quantifiable goods.  I appreciate that.  It’s difficult to measure the “efficacy of intervention.”  Jonah was disobedient and had a hard heart, but I’m unlikely to encounter anyone with more convert “notches on the belt” than Jonah.  So, I don’t advocate for ministry moving to a non-spiritualized clinical practice of pragmatics and statistics.  However, I do ask for more humility and discernment from all parties involved in cutting through saccharine emotion, tribal rhetoric, over generalized anecdotes, and favored ideologies.  We will all be better off for it and have both full and well-balanced bags. 

As Kip and Callie say after every book:  THE END