Challenging a culture of cynicism

The line for the Late Show with David Letterman wound completely around the block. Arriving early to stand in the cold with a horde of fans, I was accompanied by several Northwestern University students who wanted their pastor to join them in experiencing Letterman’s visit to Chicago. I was delighted at the invitation and a chance to spend time with some wonderful young men.

Decades later, I cannot tell you who was on the program that night, but I have a strong memory of something that happened as we stood in line. A group of enterprising evangelists started shouting into megaphones, calling on these Letterman fans to repent and avoid an eternity in hell.

My first response was to cringe, realizing my group of students had more in common with the embarrassing street preachers than with the captive audience standing in that line. Though we would have never taken such an approach, we couldn’t help feeling somewhat dismissed by this crowd of seasoned cynics — gathered to laugh at Letterman’s latest Top Ten mockery of any leader in the news — now laughing at the faith we held dear.

Cynicism may be contemporary society’s favorite tool to absolve itself of responsibility. Just as it is reassuring when your physician produces a label for what ails you (incomprehensible as it may be), the cynic gains a false sense of mastery over any issue simply by clothing it in absurdity and reducing it to manageable dimensions to be neatly filed away somewhere and perhaps never re-examined.

Return with me to that Letterman queue. Initially, I identified uncomfortably with those inept evangelists, but cynicism rushed to my rescue. I would never use such inept methodology. I effectively absolved myself of responsibility. A more Spirit-led response might have been to admire the evangelists’ courage in braving the abuse of Letterman fans. I could have challenged my young friends to come up with their own creative strategies to reach the particular subgroup of people standing in that line.

Our Western culture of cynicism makes church leadership in the U.S. increasingly difficult. I’m finding, to my great surprise, that most pastors in the majority world (outside North America) receive much more respect than pastors in the U.S. Consider how easily we mock the President (any president) of the United States, for example, saying things we would not dare utter if we ever had the opportunity to talk face to face.

In similar fashion, discussion about the pastor around the Sunday dinner table is often loaded with cynicism. Why? Pastors and church leaders challenge parishioners to change. Cynicism provides a way out of change — a response restating the issue, often humorously, and allowing for a sense of intellectual superiority before dismissing the issue out of hand. If we are honest, we must admit cynicism is quite often a cheap substitute for honest dialogue.

What should we do about our cynicism?

First, we can challenge ourselves and each other. When the laughter dies down, ask yourself or others in the group, “What issue am I (are we) trying to avoid with this cynicism?”

Next month: what does the Bible say about cynicism?

© David G. Goodman

President, Entrust

You, me and King Herod

King Herod was a lot like me. Maybe you, too.

Each of us is probably similar to each character in the Easter story (including Judas) in some way. I see too much of Herod in me.

Luke tells us the king was pleased when his adversary, Pilate, sent Jesus to him to be examined (Luke 23:6-12). Curious, he wanted to see Jesus do a miracle. With high church officials looking on, Herod asked Jesus all sorts of questions.

Lyricist Tim Rice imagines Herod’s cynicism well in Jesus Christ Superstar. Herod: “Jesus, you just won't believe / The hit you've made around here / You are all we talk about / You are the wonder of the year. / Prove to me that you're no fool / Walk across my swimming pool / Prove to me that you're divine / Change my water into wine.” 1

Scripture tells us Jesus would not dignify Herod’s questions with an answer which led to Herod committing the ultimate in mockery. After he and his court made a laughingstock of Jesus, Herod took a king’s costume (perhaps from his own closet) and with a misplaced air of entitlement, sent the King of Kings back to Pilate’s kangaroo court.

How do I see Herod in me?

Often I want Jesus to act according to my script — bring in the funding my ministry needs, provide the staff I want to recruit. In short, “walk across my swimming pool.” Sometimes, to my shame, I am more interested in his answering all sorts of questions from me than I am in letting him tell me what he wants me to know.

A subordinate staff member and I kidded around the other day about how he was “delegating up” by assigning tasks to me which I’d originally asked of him. How often do my prayers reflect me telling God (in great detail) how he should come through for me?

Herod’s failing was that he wanted Jesus on his own terms. While he had long been intrigued by Jesus’ teaching and miracles (Luke 9:9) Herod’s priority was control. He was more interested in managing his life and his kingdom than in learning what Jesus’ agenda might be.

Now I ask. Do you see any Herod in you?


David G. Goodman
President, Entrust

Change: The new constant

My head started spinning when my daughter-in-law posted an article on her Facebook page called Meet Generation Z: Forget Everything You Learned About Millennials. As a boomer I am still trying to understand Gens X and Y and now they tell me Gen Z is totally different!

My second thought (after reflecting on how much I don’t know about Gen Z) was, “Oh, the implications for the leaders we are training in other parts of the world!” Let me explain.

Sociologists tell us Western culture has accelerated since the mid-18th century. But consider the whiplash effect experienced by our brothers and sisters in the developing countries of Asia, Africa and Latin America, living in cultures seemingly bent on catching up in just a few decades. Change has rapidly become their new constant, a disrupting tsunami washing across all continents.

An African family of three generations could consist of functionally illiterate, almost Stone Age grandparents, a generation of professionals living in Paris and another generation somewhere between the two. In previous centuries, each generation adopted – wholesale – the values and livelihoods of their parents. Now succeeding generations, brought up in an accelerated context, develop values and priorities in distinct contrast to those of their parents. People groups that previously gave little thought to life beyond their local borders find themselves buffeted by cultural forces emanating from halfway around this shrinking world.

Fittingly, it was my daughter-in-law’s Facebook post which prompted me to try to get ready for Gen Z. (Does babysitting my grandchildren count?) As a child in Africa, it took two weeks for us to learn of the death of my own grandmother by way of a telegram relayed from continent to continent and handed off to a bicycle courier who made the day-long trip in hopes of a gratuity upon delivery. Things have changed.

Reflect for a moment on the complexity of equipping church leaders across such diverse generations. In cultures which defer to older generations, patriarchal church leaders understandably feel threatened by a sophisticated, more educated younger generation; they may have little idea how to mobilize, let alone evangelize, members of that seemingly strange generation. In cultures where women are not considered to be “of age” until they’re 40, highly capable young women hesitate to step out and lead other women.

This tsunami of generational change reminds me again that one size does not fit all when it comes to training church leaders. In order to equip leaders overseas, we must understand the extent of change impacting a given culture and work together to develop ministry tools to deal with change yet to come.


David G. Goodman
President, Entrust