He Kissed Jesus Goodbye

In 24 days I'm going to leave my church. I've been a Senior Pastor for 12 years, and I'm leaving. I'm not leaving Jesus. Just the opposite actually. But exiting traditional pastoral ministry is its own kind of spiritual journey, and it is as a person on that road that I heard the news that Joshua Harris, the pastor and writer most famously known for his 1997 mega-hit I Kissed Dating Goodbye, is both divorcing his wife and exiting Christianity.

As I ponder that, it occurs to me that Harris' meteoric rise and catastrophic fall shines yet another ray of light into a central theme of modern Christian subculture: our shared addiction to celebrity.

Three thousand years ago the nation of Israel decided that in addition to being the people of God, they also wanted to be like everybody else. And from that motivation, they demanded that their God give them a king to fight their battles for them. Today the church continues in that pattern. We demand a constant stream of heroes to fight and win our battles, and then write books, host conferences, and construct cottage industries built on selling us the secrets to victory. But just as the kingship didn't turn out so well for the Israelites or for Saul, our modern equivalent isn't turning out so well for the church or our champions.

The hardest thing about being a pastor is the disconnection. You might think that serving a church well earns you a place within its ranks, but it doesn't. Just the opposite, in fact. Very often, rather than earning you a place within the church, good service condemns you to a place above it. Regardless of theology, very often pastors are elevated into the position of priest. Instead of standing alongside brothers and sisters in the shared exercise of callings and giftings for the sole glory of God, pastors often times find themselves standing glorified as lone performers serving God above by serving the people below. And from that false position, it is easy for unhealthy things to grow.

In Christian leaders who experience this false elevation, it is often easy to merge Jesus with the job. Over time, the two become one. Private prayers become public preaching. Personal struggles become public conversation. You call people to the wholehearted following of Jesus, and yet many of the people choose instead to follow you.

Personally, I have been very blessed in pastoral ministry with a great church whom I love, and who truly loves and accepts me. But regardless, the disconnection between the church and I remains. And regardless, the over-connection between Jesus and the job is powerful. And that is true even though I serve in only one church in one community and am never more than 50 miles away from glorious anonymity.

Scale that experience exponentially, and Joshua Harris is a 44-year-old man with an ex-wife and three kids. His life is his own to live and, ultimately, to answer for. But I think the church owes him an apology. Harris was 21 years old when he wrote I Kissed Dating Goodbye. Most churches would never elevate a 21-year-old from their ranks into a high leadership position, for the sake of the person as much as for the sake of the church. Yet during the phase of Harris' life when the things he most needed from the church were mentors, brothers, and sisters, instead we put him on a lonely throne high atop the altar of our own idolatry. We fed him well as we worshiped him, but we also set him up for failure. We robbed him of the status of young single man walking with Jesus and we made him our Relationship Jesus.

In doing so, we played our part in contributing to his fall. And now, Harris joins a long and growing line of people who were Christian-famous before they had the chance to really be Christian-formed. And like most stories of fame and celebrity, the end tends to be much darker than the beginning.

I suggest two actions as we ponder the de-conversion of Christian Hero Joshua Harris.

First, may we the Church remember that we don't need another hero. Our constant need to elevate our local Christian leaders to a higher plane of being and our need to raise up and elevate national and international leaders to near-deified celebrity status is wrong. Just as the Israelites’ demand for a king stood as proof against them in their faith, our celebrity addiction stands as proof against us in ours. The truth is that there are no superior people out there to go out and fight our battles. And we do not need for there to be. We have Jesus, our God and King. The role is perfectly filled. To seek its filling elsewhere is idolatry.

Second, my hope is that as Joshua Harris walks his very difficult road, the Holy Spirit will guide him into the truth that there is a radical distinction between Jesus and the job. As he heals from a decades-long stint as a Christian idol, may Joshua find a group of Christians who will love him as a normal person, and remind him of our glorious King.