Morning Thanks--CT

I can't help but think it's unusual. I certainly didn't expect it from Christianity Today, and I've been a subscriber for years. Podcasting itself is nothing new, of course, but the gritty reality of the story CT is telling in this series, the spectacular fall of a rising star in the evangelical world, is, for some reason, surprising. I just didn't expect CT to be doing epic-scale journalism, no-holds-barred truth about a man who created an evangelical enterprise that, at its height, was bringing in sinners by the thousands. 

It has the attributes of classical tragedy--a singular hero blessed with extraordinary talent, who somehow triggers his own horrifying demise by way of a flaw that is entirely his own. If he's a victim, he's a victim of his own sin and that sin, in old-fashioned tragedy, is almost always hubris, which is to say, pride. In classical tragedy, pride most often goeth before the fall.

And thus it was in Seattle at an religious (evangelical) business that went up like a rocket, reached heights everyone could see, then simply blew up. Tragedies are always memorable because they are engineered by the very person who suffers--in this case, a greatly talented young street-fighting preacher named Mark Driscoll.

You want to know the story? Go to where you get your podcasts, or else head toward the Christianity Today website and look for the title above. Just start listening. It's an amazingly adept bit of raw journalism, an hour at a time. But then, there's no alternative way to read the story. It's raw because Driscoll, apparently, was known far and wide for being raw--rawness came with the territory, I guess. 

His rawness was part of his appeal, of which he had mega.  The man had--and still has--the kind of "skill set" which makes for charismatic champions. Mars Hill wasn't just a church; it was a huge business--books, videos, satellite campuses with huge screens. Driscoll was a star. 

When he began to act like one, the business became a meteor shower. What was a clarion call to salvation became a power grab. The series of podcasts are not at all pretty because the fall is extraordinary, epic.

Mark Driscoll is or was not the only big-time pastor to take a fall. There are/were others, including, perhaps most spectacularly, Bill Hybels, who ran a similar, big-time operation at Willow Creek before he crashed and burned for his adoringly concealed sexual exploits. 

In each case, problems were buried, not investigated, not disciplined, because the cause--saving souls--was so perfectly righteous. People were flocking into the churches, souls were being saved, men and women were coming to Christ--can't we just look past a couple of trip-ups?

"He who sups with the Devil had best use a long spoon."

The arc of the Driscoll story, like the Hybels story, is not particularly surprising. Soon enough, a spectacular fall takes down a multi-million dollar enterprise. 

CT tries hard to dig for grace in the Mars Hill story, a job which requires some digging. There's nothing particularly lovely about flat-out deceit and elephantine arrogance. Pride is and likely forever will be the first of the Seven Deadlies.

The Rise and Fall of Mars Hill is a big helping of bitter herbs really, always a part of the Seder meal. In the religious world, where people look up to heaven, they frequently deign to take in what is happening in real time in the real world. 

CT doesn't flinch. Good for them.

I'm thankful they didn't.