“Men do not follow titles.” William Wallace said that; or, at least the Mel Gibson version of the somewhat obscure historical figure did. Wallace, in the movie Braveheart, is speaking to Robert the Bruce, a noble who is hiding behind a title instead of walking in his confidence as the true heir to the throne of Scotland.

“They follow courage,” the zealous warrior continues, admonishing the genteel nobleman. “If you would just lead them, they would follow you… and so would I.” History tells us that Robert eventually learned to walk in his identity and led Scotland to freedom.

Truth be told, I love titles. Maybe it’s the yearning in me to be respected and counts an “official title” as affirmation of my manhood. Maybe, I need an ego boost every once in awhile. Maybe, I’m just looking for an easy “out” of a Christ-like life, where no one, not even the Christians who respect me, can really tell the difference.

 

In Acts 19, there is a group of “itinerant Jewish exorcists” who try to use the name of Jesus to cast out demons. Like expert imitators, they say, “I adjure you by the Jesus whom Paul proclaims.” But things don’t go as planned. These seven men, who call themselves sons of a “high priest” named Sceva, are met with the evil spirit’s challenge: “Jesus I know, and Paul I know; but who are you?”

From jeffgoins.myadventures.orgThe demon calls their bluff. He knows his enemy, and these foolish workers of magic are not it. The possessed man leaps on them and overpowers them. The seven Jews run away, wounded and humiliated.

Don’t take this lightly, folks. Scripture says that the evil spirit “mastered” them; they were stripped of their clothes and mercilessly beaten by a denizen of hell. That has to hurt.

The sons of Sceva are like the American Church – at least, the church in which I grew up. We grab hold of Jesus’ name and run into battle unprepared. We wield a religious title over true spiritual authority. We carry it around like a banner, flashing Bible verses and right-wing politics, claiming power by name alone, and we get torn apart by the Enemy. That is, if we step out into the battle at all.

There is a growing rift between Christ and Christians in this country. I have some friends in seminary, and I hear from them that the Number One plague of the Church right now is burnout. There is seminar after seminar and class after class on intimacy, getting ministers to plug into true relationship with the Lord and not get bogged down by committee meetings and long to-do lists. I once heard a pastor adjure his congregation to try to pray for five minutes a day, and they would see significant spiritual change. I also heard that the average minister spends about 15-20 minutes a day in his or her personal “quiet time” with God. Did you know that Christians in South Korea pray no less than three hours a day?

In some institutions, getting back to this basic principle of praying and not being anxious about anything is becoming the norm – seminaries are treating this as serious as systematic theology. I’ve heard ridiculous, but true, stories of pastors completely snapping mid-career, ranging from bizarre sexual fetishes to public outbursts of violence. Retreats and camps geared towards burnt-out ministers are becoming a necessary ministry.

What is happening to our shepherds? They’ve lost their identity as disciples of Christ to being some young person’s discipler (and poor ones, at that). How backwards is that? Yet, I can empathize. In a position of leadership, it is almost natural to put a group’s needs, even spiritual ones, ahead of your own. What begins as a noble effort degenerates into a pitiful spiritual walk that is virtually empty, except for the name alone. Hence the term: “nominal Christian.”

I struggle with this daily. A few summers ago, my eyes were opened. A kind and gentle Father drew me into the desert (away from a romantic relationship, a best friend, and a predictable future), where I could begin to understand true intimacy – hours on the floor in front of a Maker who loves to listen and even has a few things to say himself. This was YHWH, the great “I Am,” wanting to have a relationship, not just a quick confession and rehearsed prayer, with me.

I began to understand that intimacy is the key to avoiding spiritual burnout and defeat in this Christian pilgrimage. It is the only route to victory.

Is the title of minister, pastor, youth worker, small group leader, prophet, deacon, elder, committee chair, worship leader, or donut-fetcher just that? Only a title? If so, then there is no power, no authority, and no hope of ever winning the battle. And that’s what we’re here to do, friends.

You can fake it for awhile, but you will be found out. A well-rehearsed formula can only work for so long. Some believe that the Sons of Sceva made a living off of exorcisms; the text suggests that this wasn’t their first attempt at casting a demon out. Whether or not they had previous success, they were headed for failure, wielding the name of Christ without a real relationship with him. So, let’s be courageous in our endeavor to know Jesus and then wield his authority properly – not like the sons of Sceva – an authority that comes only from true intimacy with him.

(Photo courtesy of: http://goetheblog.se/pics/exorcism.jpg)

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