Friends,

Things have been interesting at St. Luke’s for a while now. It was about a year ago that we saw a significant increase in attendance on Sunday morning, and coincidently it is when I downloaded the TikTok app on my phone. A friend and new parishioner told me that it is the perfect platform for me to reach out and tell people about the Church. I made a few funny and educational videos that were similar in format to popular videos and they got some traction but not much. Whenever I would get busy, I would stop making videos, so I started uploading my sermons just because it was easy and I wanted to be consistent and post something every week. To my shock one of my sermons got tens of thousands of views and a ton of positive feedback. This coincided with a trip to Memphis where someone recognized me from the sermon! It was hard to not let my ego inflate two sizes too big, but a thought infiltrated my head that maybe it was all because of me. So, I asked my wardens if this was the case, but of course not directly at first. We batted around a few ideas, and then I just flat out asked, “Is it because of my preaching?” Both wardens gave a thoughtful look and said in unison, “Noooo, I don’t think that’s it.” I was a little disappointed.

That evening I asked my wife the same string of questions, and eventually asked, “Do you think the Church is growing because of my preaching?”, and she echoed the warden’s reaction with, “Hmmmm, I don’t think that’s it.” She could tell that my ego suddenly deflated to a healthy level, and tried to soften the blow. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re by no means a bad preacher, but that’s not why people are coming.” She went on to explain that it is how I carry myself that puts people at ease, and it makes them feel comfortable. Church attendance and views on TikTok and other social media platforms gives me something quantifiable to gauge the trajectory of the Church, and it is easy to fall into the trap of mistaking identifying trends with identifying something true about yourself.

That bit of measurable success led me to imagine being the next great preacher of the Episcopal Church, something that I did not realize I aspired to be, and it also exposed the uncomfortable truth, that maybe along with an earnest desire to preach the Gospel, I also like affirmation and being the center of attention. When things go sour, the equal but opposite temptation also exists. When people see the Church in decline, or maybe a sermon doesn’t quite land as expected, some may see it as some sort of objective proof that they are not good enough, or that something is wrong with them.

I have now been ordained for ten years, and in this time, I have collected plenty of examples from my ministry and from listening to others that points to the unavoidable truth that humanity is terribly self-unaware. When we feel self-conscious and self-critical, we almost never correctly identify the reason for our perceived failures, any more than we can identify the reasons for our healthy relationships, success in our careers, or the efficacy of our ministries. We could devise ways of becoming more self-aware, and there’s probably a lot of good that could come from those efforts, but at the end of the day we are only fooling ourselves if we believe that we know ourselves better than our spouse, siblings, co-workers, or neighbors. I’m not sure if I’m going to stick with this, but I wonder if we could have a lot of benefit by coming to terms with the reality that we are more or less going about life deeply flawed, beloved and more or less blind.

Social media can be appealing in the same way that horoscopes or tracking Church attendance a little too closely can be appealing. All three of these things are extremely concise and imply they know the answer to the questions, “Who am I, and I am doing ok?” The answers can give us temporary satisfaction, but they will ultimately fade away, because the answer to that question is so much bigger and more complicated than any objective bit of information can offer. God did not make you to be simple. Take all of the online quizzes you want about what Hogwarts house you would be in, what Capricorns are really like, or what color is your inner aura, but do not ever think that God made you as simple or boring enough to be summarized in a paragraph at the end of a questionnaire.

I suspect I am a better than average preacher. I know that I could do a better job at being organized or coordinating with others, but I am unable to change my day-to-day behavior to show real growth and I often cannot see how I am flawed in this area. I know you can, but I cannot. I know that others see goodness and frustrations in me that I will not understand. I am developing conviction that I will never know who I really am or if I am doing okay, because those may be the wrong questions to ask. Being a child of God does not require self-awareness, nor does it require being worthy. Thinking that we are either can cause us to defend our sense of self-identity so strongly that we pass on opportunities to grow and evolve. Instead, if we are going to live into the truth that we are bigger and more complicated than we can understand, and if we are to take the leap and proclaim Christ as Lord, then maybe we can get past ourselves. Rather than trying to understand, we can dwell in a state of Thanksgiving that we are redeemed by the cross, loved by God and those close to us for reasons we will never fully understand, be thankful for our capacity to grow, while coming to terms with our persistent imperfection. There is no objective bit of data that can show you that you are loved, you just are.

Blessings,

Nick