A recovering pharisee…

Hi, my name is Charlie, and I am a recovering pharisee. No, I was not a “member of a Jewish sect that flourished during the 1st century b.c. and 1st century a.d. and that differed from the Sadducees chiefly in its strict observance of religious ceremonies and practices, adherence to oral laws and traditions, and belief in an afterlife and the coming of a Messiah.” (Dictionary.com) I am using the other definition of pharisee: “a sanctimonious, self-righteous, or hypocritical person.”

At the ripe old age of 60 I have finally figured out what was and is wrong with me and understand why I have such a hard time with “normal” church. How did I become a pharisee? Was I born that way? Well, in a sense, yes. From the time I was a little baby I was an attender and then a member of a denominational church. Of the many denominations I have been exposed to in my adult life, I can tell you that the denomination of my youth was by far the most legalistic. Our list of do’s and don’t’s was extensive. Membership was exclusive and salvific, and this was just fine with me, what else did I know?

I am sure I heard about Jesus and grace and all of that stuff when I was growing up, but not in any relational sense. This all worked well for me. I was a member, and an active one. Yes, I struggled with managing my “holiness (sin).” That produced the requisite guilt cycle. All was well until my first marriage failed and the church kicked me out. Now, I will have to admit, this wasn’t as bad as being publicly whipped, humiliated, falsely accused, and executed. But it still felt pretty bad. I used to be in, part of the remnant faithful. Now I was out.

If my condition wasn’t so addictive I probably could have recovered pretty easily. But the need to be right and in, may as well have been burned into my DNA and my brain chemistry. I imagine that it is something like the way an alcoholic who is sober feels. He’s not drinking, but the urge burns in his bones.

I was raised that if you love God you will be part of “His” church. Eventually I wasn’t in a church anymore. I wasn’t happy with that condition so I was pleasantly lured back into church when a denominational pastor who preached a more “grace-full” theology started a local church. And this time I was not only in, I was in it up to my eyeballs! Worship leader, church council member and eventually full-time executive pastor were the roles I cycled through in a five year period. Boy, did I enjoy it! Imagine my surprise when a rapid turn of events found me once again on the outside and embarking on a stint as a pastor in another religious movement. This wasn’t quite as bad as the first time I was kicked out of church but it was a bit jarring!

And then I found a group of people, my congregation, with an entirely different set of do’s and don’t’s. I lasted three years at that endeavor and came out the other end this side of a psychiatric unit, but nonetheless scarred. You see, my condition loves being right. It loves being the one with the answers. It loves being the up-front decisive person. It loves being thought of as a righteous person. Of course, there is the downside. I know who I really am and what I am really like inside. Others don’t think I am always right. Frequently there are those that don’t like my answers or decisions. This is always quite disappointing.

It’s been over ten years since that experience. By the way, my second marriage failed and I have married again! during this last ten years I have not been able to “join” another “normal” church. I have been trying hard during this time to figure out what is wrong with me! The way I usually express it is in terms of what is wrong with the churches I don’t want to join. I just figured out this week what the problem is. Recovering alcoholics can’t hang out in bars! Recovering pharisees can’t join a church! It brings out the worst in them.

Don’t get me wrong. This does not mean I am opposed to joining a “normal” church. I think I am just not strong enough yet. In the meantime I remain committed to following Jesus and continue to try to discover what that means. I’ll keep looking for a “recovery” group for folks like me. If you hear of one, let me know.