Category: Essays

wretched theology

~ Jason Kanz ~ 2 Comments

Earlier, today, I posted the following thought experiment on my Facebook page.

Do you believe it is a good parenting technique to tell your children they are wretched and that it is a damned lucky thing that we are such loving parents that we accept them anyway? Or that everything they do is bad, and the only good thing about them is that we love and accept them?

Some of the first comments suggested that people may be questioning my sanity, or at least my psychological stability. Regardless, let me be crystal clear–I do not believe these ideas represents good parenting, nor do I say them to my children. I proposed the scenarios as a reflection on how a theology grounded in depravity understands God’s parenthood, what some have referred to as “worm theology.” Briefly, according to this theological understanding, what is truest about us after the fall (see Genesis 3) is our sinfulness. According to the doctrine of total depravity, everything we do, think, feel, or say is tainted by sin (though to be clear, it does not say that we are as bad as we can possibly be). Unfortunately, this theological understanding often skips past the deeper truths of Genesis 1 that say that all people were created in God’s image and that God called his creation very good.

The dialog on my thought experiment was rich (Really, you should go check it out here) and overwhelmingly, people thought that the scenarios I described were unhealthy and even abusive. Even when people acknowledged helping children to understand that they are sinners, or that their behaviors or character need correction, no one agreed with the questions as I presented them. And yet…and yet, many of have no trouble with assigning this language to God, whom we allegedly believe is infinitely loving. As Christians speak or sing about God’s love, it is common to refer to themselves as “wretched sinners.” When we use that language for ourselves, at what point does it begin to negatively affect our understanding of who we are as God’s beloved children? How does it affect how we begin to treat others?

How might things be different if we started from an earlier place? What if we believed that the truest, most essential thing about us is that we are God’s beloved children, regardless of anything else? What if, in light of a more compassionate self-understanding, we were comfortable acknowledging the brokenness in our lives, but realize that it is not our sin that defines us? What if God is absolutely, relentlessly wild about us? What if God’s anger is about those things that damage and disintegrate God’s image bearers and not about people themselves?

some thoughts on the rise and fall of mars hill

~ Jason Kanz ~ Leave a comment

I finished listening to the final episode of The Rise and Fall of Mars Hill today. Over the past few months, I have slowly worked my way through each of the twelve episodes and most bonus material. For those unfamiliar with this podcast, Mike Cosper tells the story of the meteoric growth and eventual death of one of the most influential churches in the United States, Seattle’s Mars Hill. Whether or not you are familiar with Mars Hill or pastor Mark Driscoll, this podcast is well worth the time it takes to listen.

Previously, I have not said much about it, but after listening to “aftermath” today, I wanted to share a few thoughts, perhaps as a part of my healing. I was once on the Mark Driscoll bandwagon–I listened to his sermons and read his books. He drew me in by his brashness and cool exterior. I also had friends who joyfully shared sarcastic Mark Driscoll quotes, aligning themselves with him. Whether we would have said so or not, Driscoll, like many other hypermasculine pastors and pundits, justified being an arrogant asshole. At the time, I was also a part of a denomination whose heroes were often outspoken and narcissistic, though they often talked about how humble they were as they encouraged people to be like them.

The thing is, many of us eventually become like our heroes. I did, at least. I remember leaving a meeting with a church member where I was the “bad cop,” and I felt proud. It was only much later that I was able to look back and see how unhealthy beliefs and behaviors like this began to affect the people I valued the most. As I have previously written, I became what I hate.

What struck me today is that I have had many of the same questions and felt many of the same torments that the staff who left Mars Hill felt. I have felt guilt and shame at the ways I mishandled others, and at the ways I overlooked how we treated people with contempt but called it love. I have felt angry at how I harmed and manipulated people in the name of Jesus. I have felt confused about who I have been and who I am becoming. I often don’t know where I fit. I don’t know if people are trustworthy, myself included. I weep for those who ignore warning signs because they believe they are protecting leaders and systems.

Many people have used the term deconstruction lately. It may describe people who have left the church, people who are trying to go back to the basics, or people who are just taking one step at a time on wobbly legs. I can be any or all of those people on any given day. Regardless, my prayer is that the way of love emerges from the rubble.

grateful for becoming myself

~ Jason Kanz ~ Leave a comment

This morning, on the best five minutes of the day with my friend Mark Halvorsen, he began by asking the question, “What is one thing you’re thankful for this year?” He was surprised when I didn’t mention the release of Letters to the Beloved. To be sure, I am grateful to see that project come to fruition, but that isn’t what I said. I told Mark that I was thankful for the difficult inner work I’ve been doing this year. Quite coincidentally, I came across this quote from Richard Rohr in his excellent book, Breathing Under Water: Spirituality and the Twelve Steps:

The more you are attached to any persona (“stage mask” in Greek) whatsoever, bad or good, any chosen and preferred self-image, the more shadow self you will have. So we absolutely need conflicts, relationship difficulties, moral failures, defeats to our grandiosity, even seeming enemies, or we will have no way to ever spot our shadow self. They are our necessary mirrors. Isn’t that sort of a surprise? And even then, we usually catch it out of the corner of our eye—in a graced insight and gifted moment of inner freedom.

As I survey the past year, it has been among the most challenging in my life. Like many others, the 2020 election, the January 6th insurrection, the pandemic, and national unrest have taken their toll. Amid this broad-ranging disintegration, I have continued to work on knowing and loving myself. This inner work involves pulling ideas and beliefs off of the cluttered bookshelves of my mind and carefully examining them for elements of truth. Every person has a unique story with different shaping influences, some healthy and some toxic. I find it uncomfortable to confront my core beliefs and presuppositions, but in my experience, standing confidently in the truth is much more challenging, especially when it leads to conflict and relationship difficulties.

Looking back, there has been a cost to living from my most authentic self as I currently understand it. Some people have criticized. Others have misunderstood. Some relationships have grown cool. Some people have checked out. Others have called me names. Still, others have questioned my beliefs and even my salvation. As a life-long people pleaser, all of these encounters have been challenging, but I’m still standing.

My life looks far different than it did five years or even one year ago, perhaps especially on the outside. My journey has been upsetting for some people. If I am honest, it is often unsettling for me. Still, my journey is my own. One thing that is increasingly true is that my path is not to live to appease others but to become more deeply myself, which involves pressing into my discomfort and standing firm in the truth of who I am. I have been working with two counselors who are helping me to become who I am. I am also attending a 12-step meeting, which has also helped me on this journey to know myself. Let me conclude with the adaptation of the Serenity Prayer that we use in our weekly meetings.

God, grant me the serenity to accept the people I cannot change,
the courage to change the one I can,
and the wisdom to know it’s me.

listening to my life

~ Jason Kanz ~ Leave a comment

A few days ago, I shared this on Twitter:

I spent several years training for the culture wars. The Christians I was learning from were clear that secular culture was the enemy. So I trained in logic, apologetics, and worldview studies. I learned the answers to confront the evil out there. Over the past five years, it has become clearer that “my team” also harbored considerable evil. Several of my faith heroes were credibly accused of gross misconduct, which they uniformly denied. I witnessed friends defend evil to protect the church. I profoundly harmed and shunned others on behalf of the church. In 2018, my eyes were opened to my complicity and I couldn’t stay. I wish I could say all has been clear since then, but I remain disoriented. I have been in good churches since then, but the confusion and internal disintegration have continued to have profound effects. I want to be involved in a faith community. And I don’t. What is true is that the evil that I naively believed was “out there” was inside as well. That is partly why I am less interested in the us vs. them approach. The church isn’t exempt. I am not exempt. We’ve all been wrong. So for now, I am trying to do my own work uncertain where it will lead.

To be clear, I know too many outstanding Christians to name. I have seen churches and Christian organizations pull together to do amazing things. For example, my friend Perry is a pastor of a small congregation and also the founder of Touched Twice United, which recently celebrated its 25th anniversary. My friend Peggy is the founder of Teamwork Africa, which recently celebrated its 10th anniversary. Both of these are amazing organizations. Countless believers have done and continue to do miraculous things around the world. I am grateful for every one of them.

However, over the years, I came to accept ideas that were not necessarily accurate, which were cultivated in the soil of an us versus them mentality. It is hard to say how much my thinking was shaped by those I was listening to and how much was shaped by my own mental life, but the fruit was division and arrogance. If I am honest, I believed Christians were better than non-Christians. The blogs and people I was reading suggested that if gays, liberals, atheists, or Muslims did something that benefitted the greater good, it was inconsistent with their own worldview. I even recall one blogger asking whether someone who was not a Christian could genuinely love others. The culture war mentality prepares soldiers to fight evil, and enemies are required, even if we have to create them.

At the same time my confidence in faith heroes was growing,[1] evidence was accumulating of abusive behaviors among more than a handful of them. I still do not believe that the majority of Christians or Christian leaders are abusive. I do not think that most churches are evil. Still, it became increasingly apparent that many of the thought-leaders who shaped my thinking, both nearer to home and afar, could be harmful. Once I became willing to listen to stories of hurt, I also began to pay attention to my own story and listen to my own questions. I actively started to look for things like goodness, beauty, and peace wherever I could find them. I have also been sensitive to hatred, violence, and divisiveness[2]– in the world, in the church, and in myself. And here’s the thing: the common divisions that many of us accept tend not to be particularly good predictors of goodness or evil, beauty or ugliness, peace or violence.

Having written all of that, I remain confident that many people who love me are concerned about the state of my soul or doubt whether I am a true Christian.[3] The 2011 me would certainly have questioned the eternal security of 2021 me. Still, a large part of my own spiritual journey has involved coming to a place where I am comfortable in my own skin and believe that God’s love is far more expansive than the divisions and categories I previously believed.

I am currently filled with both confusion and clarity. I have wondered if I am experiencing a dark night of the soul. I don’t know my destination, but I am trying to pay attention to where the Spirit leads.

[1] Some will point out that as Christians, we should not have faith heroes, but in truth all of us have learned about Jesus from someone. Even the apostle Paul said “follow me as I follow Christ.”  

[2] People will point out that I have often been critical of certain ideas and people. Granted. In some cases, I have acted in the very ways that I have tried to dispute. At the same time, I believe one of our tasks as humans is to speak out against divisiveness and hatred, which perhaps is divisive in and of itself.  

[3] Yes, please pray for me, but also sincerely pray that if your understanding is wrong that the Spirit may reveal truth to you. 

a fire in my belly: reflections on being an enneagram 1

~ Jason Kanz ~ 1 Comment

“Ones are idealists, motivated and driven on by a longing for a true, just, and moral world. They are honest and fair and can spur others to work and mature and grow. They are often gifted teachers who strive to go forward, setting a good example. They have a hard time accepting imperfections—other people’s and, above all, their own. Only when they are focused and at rest can they accept living in a (still) imperfect present and trusting in the gradual growth of the good (in Christian terms, the kingdom of God).”

-Richard Rohr, The Enneagram: A Christian Perspective.

As a one on the Enneagram, this week has been exhausting. I have been weary a lot recently. As Rohr suggests above, ones want everything to be perfect—others, institutions, the world, and especially, themselves. We have definitive ideas about setting things right and feel compelled to share, even if others are not interested. We can be frustrated and disheartened by imperfection. Ones are commonly described as idealists, perfectionists, or reformers. Some of the most influential reformers in history were probably ones, including Martin Luther, Mahatma Gandhi, Nelson Mandela, and the apostle Paul. They were great agents for change, but they all faced a great deal of pushback and criticism. I suspect these four all wanted to throw in the towel more than once, but still they persevered.

I believe they persisted through incredible heartbreak and sorrow because they couldn’t do otherwise. Consider Luther’s famous dictum, “Here I stand. I can do no other.” My belief may very well be my projection because that is the burden I feel. I am aware that I have written many controversial things over the years. Still, it has never been from a desire to be a provocateur but out of a passion for wholeness in myself and the world. Sometimes, despite trying to exercise the utmost care in writing (because, of course, for ones, everything must be perfect), I am misunderstood, or I unwittingly hurt others because, as Rohr also wrote, “Ones can become obnoxious fault finders.”

Yesterday, I was wrestling with deep sorrow and shame, with the belief that I should not even be allowed around other people because they will inevitably get my crap on them. It is much easier for me to accept imperfections in others than within myself. However, there is a deep desire for wholeness regardless. I have also been working with two people who are helping me process my own story. I am learning to befriend even those undesirable parts within myself and listen to what they are trying to tell me without judgment. It is in acknowledging the good, moral, and just parts and the broken and immature parts that I can continue to move toward wholeness.

is it too much to ask?

~ Jason Kanz ~ Leave a comment

Larger Story’s book of the month is  Becoming a True Spiritual Community, my favorite Larry Crabb book and the one I have probably read most often. His honest wrestling was one of my favorite things about Larry. In BTSC, he wrestled with what genuine spiritual connection looks like.

One of the traits I share with Larry is that of a restless spirit. He was rarely satisfied with accepting the status quo when it came to Christianity, a truism that resounds through his books. He pressed into his challenging questions, always from a desire to know the true God more completely.

I, too, have wrestled for a long time with seeking to know God better. The battle has intensified in the last few years. I am dissatisfied with the church in America. If I am honest, I don’t want to go to “church.” In many cases, we Christians don’t represent Jesus very well. I have no doubt some consider me a bitter cynic, maybe even an apostate. You may be right. God knows.

Here’s the thing: We talk about the importance of church attendance, but can we honestly say that our church rhythms model those things that Jesus valued? We gather in groups of tens or hundreds or thousands, all facing forward to listen to an “expert” in the Bible tell us what we need to know, which leaves little room to listen for God’s Spirit or share what is happening in us. Numbers of bodies, volunteer hours, and dollars determine success. Nevertheless, not a week goes by without another story of how some pastor or religious group has abused power.

I long for something more profound, but I find myself in the unfamiliar place of not knowing precisely how to put words to my longings. Still, here are some fragments:

I want to gather with people who are trying to understand and live an integrated life. A few years ago, I was involved in a weekly “integration” meeting. People from multiple backgrounds would gather for lunch and have lively conversations that mattered. Sadly, they are no longer scheduled when I can attend, and it is a considerable loss. I want to hear from people who think as I do and those who do not about how we live in a world that feels increasingly fragmented. What does it mean to live whole and holy lives?

I want to know and be known by the God of steadfast love, the one who is reconciling all broken things. I want to hear from others how they experience God and to know where they meet God. I want to share my doubt and confusion with others who are willing to share in return. I am not interested in neatly packaged answers but in acknowledging that the world is a muddled mess and that God is still bigger.

I want a community that fosters self-awareness, self-acceptance, and self-compassion. Too often, well-meaning Christians reject these ideas, but healthy spirituality does not neglect loving ourselves. I want to be reminded that there is a God who loves me “without condition or reservation,” as Brennan Manning would say.

I want a community that practices love for others, especially those who are often on the fringes or even outside neatly labeled biblical boxes. I want them to know, as I want myself to know, that God loves them and to demonstrate that truth not only in word but in deed. I long for a place of radical welcome and acceptance. I want to feast around a table where people of different worldviews and mindsets aren’t trying to fix or convert one another but celebrate their shared humanity and belovedness.

I want to honor and celebrate all of God’s good creation, to look for and celebrate beauty and goodness wherever it may be found: in late-blooming flowers and early falling leaves, in gently falling snow and torrential rains, in the warmth of the sun in a blue sky and the cool of a cloudless night. God called creation very good, but sometimes I think we’ve lost sight of that truth. God invited us to be creation’s caretakers, but we have instead abused it for our own ends.

I long for wholeness. I desire goodness, truth, and beauty. I want to honor each person’s unique journey and remember that we, the human race, are traveling together, and every one of us brings something needed by the whole group. I long for fellowship with those who long for integration, wholeness, and reconciliation.

Is that too much to ask? 

be careful little eyes what you see

~ Jason Kanz ~ 5 Comments

As a neuropsychologist, my day-to-day work involves assessing how people think and process information. Forgetfulness is people’s primary complaint when they see me; however, I evaluate more than memory. A thorough neuropsychological evaluation examines cognitive skills like memory, attention, and word-finding; emotions like depression, anxiety, or anger; sensory changes; and relational difficulties. Just as our thinking is complex, so are the variables associated with understanding and processing information. Although I use various psychological tests to assist in my evaluations, spending time with well over 10,000 patients over the years, I also notice behavioral trends that provide me with additional insight.

Increased anger and paranoia are patterns I have noticed more over the past few years, especially among my elderly patients. Although their doctors routinely refer them for evaluation of dementia, once they are in my office, their family members will tell me that dad has become much more irritable, judgmental, and paranoid. In my experience, it’s usually men who display this pattern. As a diagnostician, I am asked to determine what is wrong and what factors contribute to cognitive, behavioral, and interpersonal changes. In the case of dementia, changes in the structure and function of the brain are generally evident.

However, I have observed increased paranoia and anger often accompanied by constant exposure to cable news. More than once, as family members have lamented these behavioral changes, they have shared their exasperation, saying, “He watches Fox News 24/7” (n.b. I have only heard people say this about right-wing media. It does not, therefore, mean that the same thing does not happen with left-wing media).

Disease or injury can change our brains in drastic ways, but it is also true that experience changes our brains by strengthening or weakening synaptic connections. When we continually expose ourselves to toxic or divisive things, we unwittingly become more toxic and divisive. In truth, it is not only my dementia patients who are becoming this way; it is happening to many of us.

Thich Nhat Hanh wrote, “Many of the things we consume, both as edible food and as sensory impressions, have toxins in them. Just as we might feel worse after eating a whole bag of chips, we often feel worse after we spend many hours on social media sites or playing video games. After we consume like that in an effort to block out or cover up unpleasant feelings, somehow we only end up feeling even more loneliness, anger, and despair” (Silence: the Power of Quiet in a World Full of Noise, 2015).

So what can you do? First, understand that regardless of how intelligent, wise, or objective you believe you might be, what you expose yourself to shapes you gradually at first, but the effect can be drastic over time. Second, regardless of what you are taking in, be willing to ask, “what is the message behind the message?” Is this meme/newscast/article encouraging love and understanding or hatred and division? What emotional response are they seeking to generate? Third, set boundaries with people who seem to be driven by divisiveness and hatred; your heart will thank you. Unfollowing people on Facebook or Twitter can be a holy act. Fourth, intentionally turn off the television and do something else. Go for a walk and say hello to your neighbors.

Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.-Philippians 4:8

*There is a fascinating 2015 documentary titled “The Brainwashing of my Dad,” that provides additional insight into this phenomenon. I watched it on Amazon Prime, though it can be found through multiple sources.

Some reflections on my faith

~ Jason Kanz ~ 3 Comments

In their eagerness to defend their faith, many Christians refuse to look honestly at the crises American Christendom faces and the corruption within its ranks. They prefer to present to the world a spiritual Potemkin village, projecting an image of righteousness that hides some disturbing realities. There’s a desire to conceal the abuses and the wounds, the struggles and the failures, the harsh judgmentalism and craving to dominate and dehumanize others, the doubts and the dark sides. The viciousness of church politics can rival pretty much any other politics you can name; the difference is that the viciousness within churches is often cloaked in lofty spiritual language and euphemisms. 

Peter Wehner, The Scandal Rocking the Evangelical World

A few weeks ago, I told a friend, “I am as thirsty for the real Jesus as I have ever been, but I am tired of church bullshit.” Some of you reading this are more concerned that I said “bullshit” than you are about the state of the church in America. Some of you may have questioned whether I am still a Christian. I still believe Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life and because I believe that, I feel burdened to add my voice to those saying that evangelicalism is in trouble. Yet there are many Christians who want to blame the surrounding culture for our problems rather than take a hard look inside.

I am not alone in my disillusionment. Every week, I hear from friends and acquaintances about their disappointment and confusion about the church in America. Some continue to go through the motions of going to church but feel conflicted. Others have stopped attending services while still considering themselves to be Jesus followers. Still others have rejected Christianity altogether. A substantial number of people have adopted the term “ex-vangelical” to describe themselves in recent years.

Why the exodus away from the church? There are too many reasons and individual stories to detail here, but here are some of my concerns. First, it seems that every week in the news, there is a new story about some prominent Christian leader or denomination caught in sexual abuse and exploitation. As I watched how one denomination chose to handle a victim of sexual abuse who bravely came forward, I felt disoriented and disgusted. The denominational leaders called her a liar and said she was making up her abuse because she was no longer under the control of her husband. I have watched other churches and denominations ignore, minimize, or try to sidestep accusations of abuse within their midst. Leaders in one prominent denomination recently suggested that sexual scandals are distracting them from the work of sharing the gospel. Father forgive us.

Christians claim to be pro-life, yet in truth, they generally mean they are anti-abortion. When it comes to taking steps to honor and protect the lives and dignity of those already born, too often, Christians act in dehumanizing ways. Several years ago, I wrote a blog post about the viciousness of some of the pastors from my hometown directed against Muslims. We claim to desire religious freedom, but routinely act in ways that deny that freedom to non-Christians. We respond to violence with violence in words and sometimes in action.

Evangelicals want to pretend that racism is not an issue in the American church, but too often are unwilling to look at the historical and current hurts experienced by racial minorities. Dismissive responses to movements like “Black Lives Matter” fail to acknowledge the unique pain felt by blacks and people of color. In recent months, many prominent evangelicals are more concerned about Critical Race Theory, which the average congregant knows nothing about, than they are about the ongoing racism in our midst. Rather than listening to understand, we insist that we are not racist while we fail to recognize the insensitivity and dismissiveness of saying things like “All Lives Matter.”

All of these issues mix under the heading of Christian nationalism, which is not biblical Christianity. I had friends justifying the January 6 attack on the Capitol building because they believe in the need to take back America for God. Some continue to think the 2020 election was rigged despite all evidence to the contrary. They not only gave a pass to a leader who was self-centered, narcissistic, sexually immoral, caustic, and deceptive–the very opposite of Jesus–many claimed that he was the best Christian president ever. We have failed to recognize our own hypocrisy in suggesting that character somehow no longer matters.

Friends, what I see happening in the American church breaks my heart. We want to blame the surrounding culture, but our problems are primarily internal. Jesus came to show us a better way, the way of peace, love, welcome, and service. Until we are willing to take a hard look at the inside of the cup, we will continue to be clanging cymbals that drive people away from the loving arms of Jesus.

Fare Thee Well, Dear Friend

~ Jason Kanz ~ 4 Comments

I am certain I cannot capture Larry Crabb’s influence upon my life in a blog post. I edited a book about him two years ago that only provided a glimpse into his work; certainly, a brief essay will be incomplete. Still, I will try to honor my teacher, mentor, and friend.

Larry has been writing books nearly as long as I have been alive, though I am relatively late to his work. I have wrestled with what it means to be a Christian psychologist for twenty-five years, following many rabbit trails looking for an identity, though nothing rang true for me. I had heard of Larry Crabb but largely avoided him because his ideas were uniquely his own. In truth, I should have known that his unique way of thinking would resonate deeply within me.

In 2014, I attended Larry’s 52nd School for Spiritual Direction in Ashville, North Carolina. At the beginning of the week-long retreat, I still did not know what to expect, but I was thirsty for something. From his first words, I knew my life was about to change. My world was upended that week as I began to see the relational nature of God in fresh ways.

In the months that followed, I consumed his books, audio recordings, and online courses. Eventually, I read them all, and some of them, I read repeatedly. In fall 2014, I attended his Next Step School for Spiritual Direction, doing everything I could to become a “Crabbian psychologist.” However, one thing about Larry is that he was much less interested in my development as a psychologist than he was in knowing me as a person. From our first spiritual direction hour together, he saw beneath my professional façade to my heart.

Several memories stand out. When I went to North Carolina, I had a one-hour spiritual direction meeting with Larry. At that time in my life, I struggled with how to love my eldest daughter well, and I began to pour my heart out as he listened. He spoke into my strength as a man and, in the end, encouraged me to call home and talk to Grace and tell her how much I loved her and the beauty I saw in her.

When I went to Next Step in Colorado, I was talking in the group, and Larry said to me, “How about dropping the doctor?” One of the regular themes in our conversations has been my tendency to live in my head and speak doctorly. He saw it right away and invited me to be Jason. More than once, he said, “I am not interested in Dr. Crabb talking with Dr. Kanz, but Larry talking to Jason.” He invited me to my true self. Larry and I also have similar senses of humor. Engaging with Larry helped me to realize that even professionally, I could allow my humor to shine. Shortly before Next Step, Larry had fallen upon a stack of books he was carrying and fractured a rib. As he was telling us the story, I said, “Not many people can claim a book-related injury.” Watching him laugh, I realized our similarities grew.

As much laughter as there was at these events, there were also tears. I had always dreamed of writing a book, but I never believed it was something I would accomplish. In passing, I had mentioned my desire to several people but never took it any further. Sometime during that week, I talked with another SSD friend who said, “Jason, you’re a storyteller,” and something broke loose within me. I brought it before the group, and as I did, tears flowed. Larry, together with the others, helped me to press into my desire and my fears. Having now written 4 books, Larry’s influence is evident in each of them. In truth, one of the books, Living in the Larger Story, is about him, and he wrote the foreword to Notes from the Upper Room.

In 2018, I had a nervous breakdown. Clinically, I suppose we would call this an “acute stress reaction,” but I think the old school term fits my experience better. Larry did not hesitate to move toward me in my darkest season of life. He did not try to fix me; instead, he was with me, listening and reflecting.

After working on Living in the Larger Story: The Christian Psychology of Larry Crabb for far too long, it finally came together. It included contributions from many people whom Larry had touched. There was a universal fondness for Larry as a person and not only as a Christian psychologist. Out of that project, the Gideon Institute at HBU hosted a conference in Larry’s honor. We had some phenomenal speakers, but the real highlight for me was the opportunity to visit with my friend on stage for 75 minutes as we talked about his career. Though Larry was a popular speaker and author, what he really loved were conversations that mattered.

To try capturing the fullness of Larry’s influence is an impossible task. The outpouring of affection for him on the Larry Crabb Appreciation Club on Facebook over the last few days has been nothing short of beautiful. Larry’s influence on many people has been profound. I count myself privileged to be one of the grateful witnesses to his life. 

Fare thee well,
mentor, teacher, and friend
keep the coffee hot,
until we meet again.

the boy who cried wolf, reimagined

~ Jason Kanz ~ Leave a comment

The Shepherd Boy and the Wolf is one of Aesop’s best known fables. In the parable, a young shepherd was bored, so to make life interesting, he ran into the village crying out that a wolf was attacking the flock. The villagers were rightly concerned and came running only to find the boy laughing at them. He repeated the pattern until one day, a real wolf attacked. This time, when the boy “cried wolf,” the townsfolk did not believe him and the wolf killed many of his sheep.

As I watch the world today, I wonder if this retelling of Aesop might be more accurate.

There once was a farmer who owned many sheep who needed someone to watch over his flock. After interviewing several potential shepherds, he settled on a boy who was well-known in the village. Everyone knew that he was rough around the edges and had a reputation for telling tall tales. Several of the farmer’s friends raised questions about the boy’s character, but the farmer said, “I only want him to watch over my sheep. I care nothing about his character so long as he can manage, and maybe even grow, my flock.”

Time passed and the shepherd boy seemed to be doing a good job. The flock appeared healthy and the boy’s confidence bolstered the farmer’s faith in him. In the village, people often heard the boy boasting that the sheep were the healthiest they had ever been. Nevertheless, some of the villagers were concerned. They had gone out into the hills and the sheep did not appear to be doing as well as he bragged, and they were also concerned about his farming methods. Whenever they raised their concerns, however, the shepherd boy insisted that they were lying and were jealous of his success.

Eventually, the farmer’s flock began to dwindle and the farmer also became concerned. When he confronted the shepherd, the boy blamed the villagers who had previously raised concerns about his character and methods. Though the farmer was uncertain, several of the boy’s acquaintances said, “He’s right. It’s the villagers.”

As time passed, more sheep disappeared. The shepherd continued to proclaim that his accusers were at fault and that he had proof, though he never produced anything to support his accusations. Still, more people began to believe his claims because he stated them with such frequency and confidence.

Finally, the farmer had enough. He went to the shepherd and said, “You are ruining my flock. You keep saying that a group of jealous villagers is at fault, but you have never given any proof. In fact, I even have evidence that refutes your claims. How do you expect me to respond?”

Without missing a beat, the shepherd boy looked at the farmer and said, “Do you want proof? Nearly half of the villagers believe me. Nothing you say will convince them otherwise. You can cry wolf all you want, but they all know the truth.”

And at his words, the pack descended upon the farmer and tore him limb from limb.