I got a call one day from a man who said he was one of the leaders of a denomination that I had heard of but frankly knew little about. He was calling on behalf of their leadership to see if I would come and speak to a group of denominational leaders on the topic of Christian spiritual formation. I was immediately interested. I asked how they got my name, and he said their denominational headquarters sent out a survey to several hundred laypeople in their churches asking what topics or subjects they would like to know more about. The number one answer was “spiritual formation.” The man told me their denomination did not have anyone with expertise in this area, so they searched “spiritual formation” on the Internet and my name came up. (I had recently written a book titled A Spiritual Formation Workbook.)

He told me they needed to know more about this subject and that my time with them would ultimately have an effect on their churches. I accepted his invitation. For the next six months I worked hard and prayed a lot, asking God to help me ignite in these leaders a passion for Christian spiritual formation, as well as offer them guidance on how to make this happen in their churches.

As I flew to the meeting my excitement increased. I met a dear man at the baggage-claim area who drove me to the hotel where our daylong workshop was held. I went into the ballroom with my briefcase in hand, eager to begin teaching. The room was filled with over sixty key leaders from around the United States. If these men can get a passion for this, their whole church could catch a new fire, I thought to myself. One of the leaders of the denomination introduced me, and I stepped to the podium with energy. I shared a funny story, and the room seemed to relax. Then I launched into my main discussion and made the following statement: “God has offered us many different means of grace—prayer, solitude, silence, the Bible, fasting and many others—in order to deepen our relationship with God, and to develop the character of Christ so that we can live vibrant lives with God and make a difference in our world.”

This was my well-crafted opening. It was also the end of my rapport with this audience. I later learned that they ardently and fervently believe that God has given the church only two means of grace—baptism and Communion. All of the activities I mentioned (prayer, Bible reading, solitude) are not considered means of grace. My tradition (Methodism), and all of the others I had ever spoken to, freely uses that term to describe those activities. But I had never been informed about their position on this issue. All I knew was that the audience was quickly going from concerned to hostile.

I had almost no eye contact within a minute of that opening sentence. Within fifteen minutes I saw heads shaking in disagreement. Thirty minutes into the talk a man actually stood up, turned his chair around and sat with his back turned to me. He could have actually left the room (three men did that at about the forty-minute mark), but he wanted to make a public proclamation of his disgust. I had violated a sacred principle; I had unknowingly taken a theological position that was contrary to theirs. I was wrong, in their eyes, about the use of a phrase, and they needed to shame me publicly. I stopped at around fifty-five minutes and said, “It seems like a good time for a break.”

 

Have you ever found yourself in a position where a miscommunication over theology created a seemingly insurmountable rift?

 

During that break the man who had driven me from the airport said to me with a very sad face, “The president is very sorry, but he thinks this is going very badly, and that we need to end your time speaking.” I was supposed to teach for the next four hours, but honestly, I wanted to go back in that room about as much as I wanted to walk into a hornet’s nest. I knew I would feel the pain of this moment for years to come. I said to the man, “I agree. Can you take me to the airport? Perhaps I can catch an early flight home.” He said he would.

As I was walking down the lonely corridor I heard a voice. “Excuse me,” a man whispered, “may I ask a question?” I said, “Sure.” He said, “I am sorry about how you were treated. I am new to this denomination, recently ordained, and I don’t share all of the same views as my fellow pastors. All I know is that I am unable to help my people grow in discipleship, and it seems you might be able to help me.” His sincerity was clear, so I stopped to help. “Look,” I said, “just do this. Read Celebration of Discipline by Richard Foster. You will have plenty to work on for many years. Read it for yourself and put it into practice in your own life first. In time you will change, and then you will naturally pass it on to your people.” He thanked me, and I shuffled off, completely defeated, down the hallway to the parking lot. As I flew home, I leaned my head against the window and started to cry.

FALSE NARRATIVE: IF WE DISAGREE, THEN WE MUST DIVIDE

James Bryan Smith, The Good and Beautiful Community: Following the Spirit, Extending Grace, Demonstrating Love (Downers Grove, IL: IVP Formatio, 2010), 53–55.

If you would like to explore this new study, it is available on Amazon, as well as part of Good Questions Have Groups Talking