We've invited Shauna Niequist to be a guest blogger for John Ortberg's session on A Leader's Greatest Fear. It's no surprise that one of Shauna's favorite books is Anne Lamott's Traveling Mercies. Shauna & Anne share a real-world love of life and of Jesus that is compelling and wonderfully artsy and free. She shares with her father (a senior pastor from Barrington, Illinois you may have heard of) an undeniable gift of leadership and belief that the church can be all that God first intended. Yet, Shauna's voice, as you will read, is all her own .
Shauna worked in Student Ministries at Willow Creek for five years and as the Creative Director at Mars Hill in Grand Rapids, MI for three years. In the last year, she has become a mother to Henry, turned 30, celebrated her fifth wedding anniversary to Aaron, and written her first book, Cold Tangerines, coming this fall. You can read several chapters from at her website at shaunaniequist.com.
During some of my most formative years as a Christian, John Ortberg’s pastoral voice was one of the most important in my life. I have hundreds of memories of the stories and ideas and challenges he offered to me and to my friends. We hung on his words, talked about them, and digested them hungrily.
In the same way that hearing a certain song takes us very precisely back to place we were when we heard it last, John’s voice, literally and metaphorically, will always remind me of that season. We were fresh from college, in our first ministry jobs, idealistic and wound up, and ready to take the world and the church by storm. His words anchored us and traveled down to deep places in our hearts.
In addition to being our pastor, John is our friend. Six years ago this month, John officiated our wedding, on a very hot evening on Michigan Avenue, and the sound of his voice will always remind me as well of that day. My friendship with John’s wife, Nancy, has been one of the most influential of my life, and there have been many points in the story of my life where Nancy’s words and example have made a profound difference.
All that to say, it feels familiar and significant to be sitting under John’s teaching today…even the jokes about my dad’s...frugality. Since the time that I regularly sat under John’s teaching, life has surprised me over and over. We moved to a new town and a new church, with all the challenges and adventures that go along with new homes and new roles. I’ve become a mother, written a book, and weathered a ministry disappointment that shocked me in its intensity.
I listened, back then, to John’s words, but I am listening with an entirely new intensity today. I was all ideas and ideals then, all potential, all passion. Now, almost ten years later, I hope that I’m a realist without being a cynic, but I’m not always sure I know the line that divides them. I am cautious which might be a euphemism for fearful. I’m listening.
The term “Shadow Mission” feels heavy, like a lump in my throat, like a rock landing with a thunk. Before even the definition, I think each of our own Shadow Missions flash before our eyes, whether we’re willing to admit it to ourselves, let alone anyone else. I know in an instant what mine is. Do you?
The Shadow Mission is the authentic mission hijacked by my ego and my woundedness. If John’s is “talkative boy wins acclaim,” mine is something along the lines of “funny girl eats, drinks, and is merry.”
At my worst, I’m a bad stand-up comic/short order cook/tap dancing monkey who glosses over the realities of life in favor of keeping the party going and keeping the laughs coming. I want life to be a wide-open celebration, each day shimmering and glowing with life and beauty…but ten degrees off from that makes me frantic and shallow and disconnected from pain, my own and anyone else’s. Because I know this about myself, I work hard at, well, working hard. I practice silence and writing and pursue deep conversations, not because those things are natural to me, but because I need them like I need vitamins to keep me healthy.
One of God’s greatest gifts to me is that I have several Mordecai voices in my life. My husband and the men and women in our house church are on to me every time I tiptoe over to that lesser, shallower version of myself. They look me in the eye, and tell me to get back to work, to get back to depth, truth telling, and focus, to get back to life as I was meant to live it. Thank God for them. Who is Mordecai in your life?
What can you do today that will take power from that Shadow Mission? What ways of living will keep you close to God’s dream for your life and increasingly far from the seduction of the Shadow Mission? What conversations could you have even today that could make things right, even if they haven’t been right, inside of you or at your church or in your marriage, for a long time?
What person comes to mind as John talks about the pastor that isn’t here this year? Is there someone in your community whose life is littered with warning signs and red flags? Are you willing to be a voice of honesty in his or her life?
Or are there things that people have been trying to tell you for years that you’ve chosen not to accept? As you scroll through hard conversations you may have dismissed in the moment, are there patterns you’d rather not see, but in the quiet moments, recognize as true? Is there a shadow you’ve been unwilling to face?
