Disappointment

a weight I carry on my chest

I’ve read variations on this quote, attributed to multiple sources: “Leadership is disappointing your own people at a rate they can absorb.” - Ronald Heifetz and Marty Linsky.

The Christian spiritual deke is to say that the spiritually mature don’t experience disappointment. They don’t get disappointed. They live in such a state with God that they receive all things with such humility and acknowledgement of God’s sovereignty that there’s just no room for disappointment.

My heart feels led to switch out salt for all the sugar in this group of Christian’s pantries and vice versa and then drop in on their disappointment while they eat their morning cereal, drink their “sweetened” coffee, or eat their salted birthday cake.

Disappointment is a normal part of our human experience.

Remember when Jesus asked his friends to set up and pray with him after dinner one night? He turns to them and finds them snoozing while he’s in agony and says, “Couldn’t you watch with me even one hour?” You can dance around that one all you want, but that’s what human beings call disappointment.

Or maybe you remember this Jesusy classic, “Why are you afraid? You have so little faith!” Again, reframe that in whatever Christianese you want but normal, everyday people recognize that as disappointment.

Disappointment is part of being human.

The original quote by Heifetz and Linsky is an observation that requires some nuance. They aren’t intending to say that leadership sets out to disappoint, it’s not the destination. The observation being made is simply that there is an inevitable amount of disappointment for some as things change and develop, as they take unexpected turns or go through necessary growth pains.

Tod Bolsinger breaks it down in his blog post from 2010, “Disappointing Leadership: The Core Competency.”

The kind of disappointment that Bolsinger is talking about, the kind that Heifetz and Linsky are referring to is not the kind of disappointment that Jesus was feeling in the Gospel of Matthew and it’s not the kind of disappointment I’m wrestling with right now.

For me, these are disappointing days to be a Christian.

Have you felt any of this kind of disappointment?

Long, long ago, when I was physically fit, I would put ankle weights on when I walked or ran to increase resistance and build more muscle and increase my stamina.

In my last few days of being 59, I find myself physically having developed built in weight around my middle. Emotionally and mentally, I’ve developed another kind of weight, a heavy weight of disappointment that rests on my chest. This emotional and mental weight feels like it’s decreasing my strength and robbing me of stamina.

As a “professional Christian,” I’m worn right out by the ongoing, ever developing list of well-known Christian personalities who have established themselves as paragons of virtue and the kind of people we would all like to be who are finally having their “indiscretions” catch up with them at this age and stage I’m in.

And in many, if not most, if not all, of these situations, someone knew. Usually someones knew. And they were made to keep quiet out of fear, out of shame or out of pressure to “protect the greater good.”

This list just keeps growing, month to month, sometimes week to week, and I’m finding it emotionally and mentally exhausting. When I think I can’t possibly feel more disappointed than I do right now, someone on a church staff somewhere says, “hold my grape juice…” and news breaks of yet another pastor (or “apostle”) living a destructive life while telling the rest of us how God wants us to live ours.

The weight on my chest increases when I read the way some of us respond to the harm done by people who have sworn to do no harm.

Our tendency seems to be towards circling the wagons and protecting our institutions and our heroes. We seem to think the cause of Christ will advance because we cover things up, turn a blind eye or just deny that harm was even done or claim there’s nothing we can do about it now. We shout forgiveness and reconciliation and keep offenders and abusers on platforms because they are “anointed” or because we’re afraid we’ll lose people if we’re honest and tell the truth.

And we ignore the harm we multiply on those who have been harmed and used and abused.

I’ve listened to denominational leaders play word games and create little integrity loopholes for themselves so they can ignore the harm that has been done. And it all just sits on top of me and it’s hard to get it off of my mind.

I can’t get it off my chest.

I’m disappointed because much of my evangelical family continues, in the name of God, to put their support behind politicians who are anti-christ in the things they do and in things they say. And every time one of these politicians does something that makes me think, “Finally! Everyone will see how horrible this person is and they will stop supporting them.” A fellow Christian somewhere says, “hold my grape juice…” and proceeds to double down on their support, denying established facts, ignoring our common reality, pretending like the Scriptures don’t say.

Worse, some of these politicians who loudly claim to follow Jesus get caught doing harm, telling lies, abusing their power and when they get caught and called out for it, claim they are being persecuted. And some of my evangelical brothers and sisters jump right in with them agreeing they are being persecuted because none of us are perfect and who wants to have all our actions and decisions and behaviors scrutinized by the Press anyway? They are being persecuted, not for doing wrong, but because they are our “champions” and our “shepherds.”

When I was walking the Camino de Santiago with my friends Bill and Derrick, I would sometimes feel this same feeling of disappointment when we climbed the path up another mountain. The path ahead would be steep, but I could keep myself going up, despite the weight I carried, despite the pain I was in, because I could just make out the peak, ahead of us, through the trees.

But when I got there, it was a false peak, the path turned and started climbing again.

And again.

And again.

In my head I know that the weight of my pack was constant, but every time we hit a false peak and had to climb up some more, my pack felt a little bit heavier.

And then a little bit heavier.

And then a little bit heavier.

That’s sort of where I am right now.

Because I’m conscious, after my dad’s recent passing, that I’m running out of path ahead of me. As I turn 60 this weekend, I am aware that there’s more path behind me than there is ahead of me and this steady stream of disappointment that feels like the beginning of a flood, has me disappointed because this is not where I thought I would be at this point in our Story.

I thought by now we would be treating each other better than this.

I thought by now we would be comfortable and even eager to make amends and do remuneration.

I thought by now that we would be telling each other the truth.

I thought by now we would have made the sermon of the mount a central feature to this Jesus journey.

I thought by now we would stop being seduced by power and corrupted by lust.

Honestly, I thought that by the time I reached 60, love would be our greatest priority and integrity would be the other thing we’re known for.

I realize I’m painting with a broad brush here.

But not THAT broad.

And I’m very well aware that I am someone else’s disappointment.

Today I am being honest with you about how I am doing and what I am feeling. I do not need help – you have already helped me by reading this – and I do not need solutions, I am not without God or friends in this journey. Neither do I need you to feel the weight I feel in my own chest.

What I am looking for are those on this same journey who are feeling this same sort of weight and are, perhaps, unaware of how many of us are walking this path together because of the inherent darkness that shrouds this path. I want you to know I’m here. I’m with you and I still believe there are better days ahead.