Removing the speck from Steven Furtick’s eye

This story about a pastor’s new house has gotten a lot of attention. Enough that a half-dozen people have sent me links to it.

A summary: Steven Furtick, pastor of Elevation Church, is building a 16,000 square foot house valued at $1.7 million.

People across social media and the news media have rushed to share their opinions – most of them disapproving and condemning. I’ve seen two objections from people — one about the church’s money, the other about extravagance.

1. “A church shouldn’t pay their pastor enough that he can afford this kind of house.”

Some people have heard this story and concluded that Elevation Church is paying Furtick too much. Not many people in North Carolina can afford a $1.7 million home.

Let’s suppose that’s the case.

How much compensation is too much for a pastor?

Let’s assume Furtick’s salary + housing allowance is $680,000. That’s what CNN Money suggests he’d need to earn to afford this house. Is $680k too much?

How do we decide what too much is?

Every time I’ve questioned pastors’ pay within my denomination, other pastors have rebuffed me: “We have managerial-level jobs and professional degrees, why shouldn’t we have incomes comparable to other managers and professionals?”

If these arguments are valid, couldn’t we argue that Furtick is worth every bit of $680,000 per year? He started a church in 2006 with 14 members and leads a congregation of more than 12,000 today. That kind of talent is rare.

If we see no problems with a $130,000 package for pastors who have inherited and maintained congregations of 500, why should we object to paying Furtick much more?

Or is there a simple ceiling? $500k? $300k? $100k? Anything that would put our pastor’s household in the top 10% of the region? Top 5%? Top 1%?

Without having a line, what grounds do we have to criticize Furtick’s church and not our own?

Now if you read the article linked at top, you’ll see that Furtick says in defense, “I didn’t even build that house with money from the church. I built it with money from my books.”

In Furtick’s mind, the criticism is because people think he’s receiving too much from the church, and this proves that they’re wrong. (His church doesn’t disclose what he makes — a major transparency problem, in my opinion.)

Others might say, though, that the problem is extravagance.

2. “A pastor shouldn’t live this extravagantly.”

Perhaps the story is getting attention because of a gut reflex people have — something telling them that the gospel and extravagance are ill-matched — the same reflex that endeared Pope Francis to so many when they learned that as a Cardinal he rejected chauffeured cars and palaces and opted for the city bus and a simple apartment.

If this is how they feel, they have plenty of support from the church’s best theologians. Saint Augustine called extravagance (along with its opposing tendency — avarice) a mistress that enslaves people to its temporal lusts. John Wesley urged people to spend nothing on the pleasures of taste, expensive apparel, or vain purchases for the sake of status.

Furtick reveals no felt tension between gospel and extravagance. I suspect many people are reacting because they think his choices are unnecessarily lavish. “Who needs 7-1/2 bathrooms?”

But when do we cross the line from appropriate to unnecessary?

Is a $600,000 house in a gated community too extravagant? How about a home with 5 bathrooms and 6,000 square feet? House in a good school district, 1,200 square feet, and a big screen TV?

And what if we learned that Furtick gives half of his income to charity? Would that make the 16,000 square foot house more acceptable?

It’s hard for many of us to say that we’re living according to Wesley’s standards: never indulging in food, apparel, or other material things more expensive than we need to survive. So why have we determined that Furtick’s extravagance is unacceptable while ours is okay?

Taking the speck out of Steven Furtick’s eye

I began to feel a bit sorry for Furtick in all of this. We’ve raised him in a culture that bases pastors’ income on market rates and sees no problem with them living like their professional peers. If Furtick followed those same principles, who can fault him for accepting a CEO-type income and living like his celebrity peers?

Unless we’re constantly grappling with our own extravagance, why are we spending so much time looking at the speck in our brother’s eye?

Examining our own eyes

What level of pastoral income or extravagance is too much? Many people resort to the “I’ll know it when I see it” test. That’s what has happened here, isn’t it? People saw it, and it was clearly too much.

But the “I’ll know it when I see it” test fails. We grow soft with time. Gradual accommodation lulls and deceives us. Endless clichés prove the point: the slippery slope, the boiling frog, the married couple that forgets to keep dating, “first they came…”

In short, when we stop scrutinizing our own lives, we lose our edge. I think that’s true of any areas of our life — our health, our work, what kind of media we’re consuming, our parenting, our romantic relationships, the list could go on. Autopilot may work for a while, but stay there for long, and we’ll discover we’ve lost ground.

If you’ve read this blog for long, you’ll know that I have some pretty strong feelings about clergy income and about Christians living simply and giving generously. (By the way, that’s Christians — not just clergy. Where did some people get the idea that only clergy should avoid extravagance?)

What I may have failed to share is that this is a constant tension in my life. I have plenty of areas of extravagance remaining, and I know it. I go back to these words of Augustine regularly and ask how far off I still am: “Let the rich keep to the habits their delicacy requires, but let them be sad that they cannot do otherwise… So if the poor man isn’t proud of his beggary, why should you be proud of your delicacy?”

I’ve begun to think I’ll probably struggle the rest of my life with how much is too much (or too little) in several areas of life — simplicity, generosity, the media I consume, my use of time, etc. I used to lament that, but I believe it’s a good tension.

To be clear, if I become obsessive or paralyzed by these questions, it’s a problem. But if I ever get comfortable and complacent about these, I wonder if it will be a signal that I’m caving — either to my own desires or to hopeless despair about never knowing exactly where to draw the line.

What I may have also failed to share is that when the lines aren’t black and white, I don’t dare call people to hold the same line that I’m holding. My line is at least somewhat arbitrary and still being worked out.

But does that mean we say nothing at all?

Drawing lines when we can’t identify black and white

In some cases where the lines are too difficult to draw, we give up trying and excuse anything — or only go after the most extreme cases. This seems to be what happened to Furtick. None of us know where the line is, but his case is extreme enough to call out. Similarly, we don’t know where to draw the line on pornography, so we only worry about the stuff that’s classified as X-rated. We don’t know how to draw lines about appropriate sexuality, so we tend to ignore all but the cases that offend our own sensibilities most…

In all, it seems that Christianity’s inability to draw hard lines has caused us to accept as neutral a lot of things that have no business in the lives of Christians. We don’t want to speak too forcefully — and don’t want too much accountability — when we’re not sure exactly where to call something enough. Or on the other end, we draw an arbitrary line and walk it as tight as we can (think high school dating relationships) rather than constantly asking if we might be walking a bit too close to the edge.

Though we can’t draw hard and fast lines, we still have to do our best to discern what’s appropriate for us, and we should err on the side of prudence. For pastors, we have a duty to warn people, saying something like, “I don’t know where the line is, but I’m pretty sure this is over it…” That was my attempt in a post on pornography. That has been my attempt in talking about church salaries and justice.

In conclusion, I don’t actually defend Furtick’s decision to build this house. I believe his house is too much. It’s unnecessarily extravagant. I think the burden of proof is on him to show how this use of God’s money (it’s all God’s money) is most glorifying to God. And if his church is paying him anywhere near $680,000, I think it’s a horrible misappropriation of the church’s collection — which is sacred to God and the poor, not to enrich pastors. But is it Furtick’s mentality, or only his means, that’s so far different from many other pastors’?

I say all this because I believe it’s true and should be said. But I say it also with trepidation, knowing that I need to spend a lot of time examining my own life, my own income from the church, and my own indulgences before I spend any time pointing out the speck in Steven Furtick’s eye.

The coming church budget crunch

This is a revised version of a post from last year. I thought it appropriate as churches are beginning to budget for 2014.

I just asked a friend to run a quick analysis for me: “How much of your church’s contributions come from people age 55 and over?”

His number was 70%.

My friend was unflinching. “Isn’t it always that way? That’s the group that has the most to give, so they give most of the money.” His church looks healthy. The UMC would consider it a “vital congregation.”

But I wasn’t convinced, so I asked him to try a second analysis, if his software could do it. “How much of your church’s contributions 10 years ago came from people age 55 and over?”

This time, my friend came back concerned. Ten years ago, only 50% of contributions came from ages 55 and over. In ten years, giving from people age 55 and over went from 50% to 70%.

A few reasons I had this hunch:

If your church is at least 10 years old, it’s probably older now than it was 10 years ago. You may have anecdotal evidence to argue otherwise (that booming parents’ Sunday School class, the three infant baptisms last week…), but unless you can show me the numbers to prove it, I bet you’re older. The average age in the American UMC has gone from 30 in the 1950’s to 57 in 2008.
Most churches – even ones that look healthy – have been living off the leadership and giving of the Baby Boomers for a long time. The Baby Boomers are now ages 48 – 66.
The Older Boomers (those who were draft age during Vietnam) are all now 56 and older. They’ve been stronger leaders and contributors than the Younger Boomers.
The Silent Generation (whose youngest are now 67) were loyalists, committed to the Church, and committed to supporting it with their money.

This shows a fundamental non-shift taking place in our churches. As the Boomers and Silent Generation age, the younger generations aren’t shifting to handle more of the church’s financial burden. There are no signs they plan to fill that void.

We’re living off the fumes of earlier periods’ growth. Meanwhile, we have increased our debt, enlarged our campuses (and their accompanying maintenance and utilities costs), and inflated our staffs and salaries.

If giving from ages 55+ went from half of a church’s giving to 70% in the last ten years, what will happen in the next ten? Unless we experience major change, we’ll see a lot of budget reductions.

What I expect in the next ten years… Since we can’t reduce debt and building maintenance costs without serious consequences, the coming budget crunch will hit staffing, programming, and missions the hardest.

In the UMC, I expect many churches will cut their apportionment payments as they try to preserve ministry locally. Politics will ensue. I would be especially concerned if I were a Wesley Foundation or camp that still relies on money from the conference. Look at your recent conference budgets — what’s going up (e.g. directors’ salaries) will plateau, what’s already going down or plateaued will be decreased or eliminated.

I don’t write this to scare, but I do write it as a wake-up call. Most churches and conferences budget as if giving is going to increase in the next decade. They give raises, take on debt, and defer maintenance because they assume they’ll have enough money in the future to support these items. You might want to do more research before making those assumptions. Budgeting on hope and faith sounds nice, but plenty of churches have had to close after they spent their money on hope/faith rather than reality. Some of those churches even hosted Dave Ramsey courses…

Finding a Church for My Kids

Last week I wrote about why, as a father, I’m not looking for the exciting children’s ministries I keep hearing advertised. And as a pastor, they’re not what I want to promise. Here’s more about what I’m looking for.

I’ve talked to several people who say their kids are their first priority in choosing a local church. It’s hard to disagree. I want to see my kids grow up to be zealous followers of Christ. There are few things I want more. What role does the church play in that? Here’s a list of the things I’m looking for, in priority order. Some may come as no surprise, but others may not be what you expect…

The state of Kentucky's minimum adult-child ratios and maximum group sizes for childcare services. — The state of Kentucky’s minimum adult-child ratios and maximum group sizes for childcare services.

1. Safety. If I’m not confident my children are reasonably safe in a local church, it’s a deal breaker. Reasonable safety means I know two adults are always in the room and both have been screened and trained. It also means they abide by the state’s minimum adult-to-child ratios and maximum classroom sizes (see at right). These are the minimum requirements. I’d like to see better ratios and rooms that aren’t at maximum capacity, but I wouldn’t accept any worse than meeting these standards.

2. A church where my wife and I will be challenged and strengthened in faith. Note that I’ve put this before anything about my children’s faith. I’ve had several conversations with parents who tell me they’re “suffering through” somewhere they don’t believe they’re growing, but they’re sticking it out because of the great children’s ministry. This is a noble thing to do. I also think it’s a terrible decision. Not just for the parents, but for the children.

Parents, please hear this, your own spiritual condition and growth are more important to your children’s faith than any church programs. Take a look at the diagram below if you don’t believe me. That diagram comes from a huge national survey of youth and religion. It shows the six most likely paths teenagers took to become faithful Christian adults. I’ll reference it several times below. The diagram is for youth, not children, but what’s invested in the childhood years continues into adolescence. You’ll see that four of the six paths include “high parental religious service attendance and importance of faith.”

Stop bearing through in a community that does nothing to strengthen your faith, just for your children’s sake. Your kids see you seven days a week. They’re in the church once or twice a week. You are their primary influence; the church’s programs are a complement. Sadly, since the inception of big youth and children’s ministries, the church has taught parents the reverse. The best children’s ministry in town… is in your living room.

teens who remain adult christians — Found in *Souls in Transition* by Christian Smith. New York: Oxford University Press, 2009.

3. A church where other godly adults will develop relationships with my kids. I put this next because we can do all the things below at home. We want the church’s help with them, but we expect to lead the way. However, we absolutely need the congregation for this piece. In fact, without this larger sense of a “church family,” I think our kids will miss much about what it means to be the church.

In the United Methodist Church, when a child is baptized, the congregation pledges to surround that child with a community of love and forgiveness. In my experience, First UMC of Lexington took that pledge seriously. There were people like Dulaney Wood and Dale Muse and T. O. Harrison, and later Hope Harvener and Paul Shafer and Aaron Mansfield, who took the time to get to know me and encourage me. I believe that made a big difference. I’m looking for the people who will be the same for my kids. You’ll see that having “many adults in the religious congregation to turn to for help and support” is listed as important twice in the diagram above. (more on this in “Exciting is Fickle“)

Where are we leading our kids? There's little more important. — Where are we leading our kids? There’s little more important.

4. A church that helps and encourages my children to pray and read Scripture. Do you notice from that diagram how important these are? It was interesting to see from the study that “frequency of youth group participation” or “satisfaction with youth group” were much less important than Scripture reading and prayer. Christian practices are important for forming people in the faith. I’m looking for a church that will help me teach my kids to pray and read Scripture.

I have fond memories of my parents praying with me and reading Scripture with me at a very young age. And then I had a youth minister, Jerry Ernst, who taught me to love and rely on the Bible and prayer. My parents started it; Jerry complemented it. Their teaching and example have influenced the rest of my life.

5. A church that is committed to teaching Christian doctrine and giving my kids an opportunity to ask questions and express doubts. You’ll also see in the diagram that most of the youth who continued in the faith had “no doubts about religious beliefs.” I’d be interested to know more about this. I don’t think it’s healthy or helpful to raise my kids in an atmosphere where they’re not allowed to question or express doubts. On the contrary, I think the best way to help them have “no doubts about their religious beliefs” is to (a) actually teach them what the Church believes, and (b) give them opportunities to ask lots of questions.

I think a lot of people who walk away from the Christian faith never understood what it was to begin with. In many places, the Church’s focus on teaching doctrine has been cast aside and replaced by social clubs that teach good morals or Bible lessons. I plan to teach my kids Christian doctrine at home, but I would appreciate my church’s help. (See “Why we’re teaching our kids a catechism“)

6. Opportunities for my children to have “religious experiences.” Finally, you’ll see from the diagram that “many personal religious experiences” shows up in four of the six paths. Those are defined as (1) committing one’s life to God, (2) having prayers answered, (3) having experienced a miracle, and (4) having a moving spiritual experience.

That’s an interesting, broadly defined set of experiences. No church can assure these. They can help, though, by putting my kids in a good position for these things to happen. That would involve (a) presenting the gospel and asking them about committing their lives to God, (b) teaching them to pray and spending time in prayer, and (c) expecting that God will be present in their midst and can work miracles.

In my own experience, when I think of things like this, I think back to camps and retreats. I’ll always remember some profound and life-altering experiences I had at Aldersgate Camp during summer camps and youth retreats. These aren’t the only times and places to have profound religious experiences, but I also don’t discount the power of a group of people gathered to worship in a special place and expecting the presence of God. That was routinely the atmosphere at the camps and retreats I participated in. We had lots of fun, to be sure, but we always had serious time devoted to worship. I hope my kids might have similar opportunities. I’d love to find a church that values these things.

How does all this look in simple practice? If I were put in charge of a church’s children’s ministry (something I hope never actually happens!) – I would probably do something very similar to our own “Family Worship,” adapted for a larger setting.

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