Outside the Camp: A Former Pastor Looks at the Church from a Distance

By Garth Cross

If youre looking for a feel good read, Outside the Camp is not it. If you want joy without lament, grace without sin, light without darkness or love without pain, read something else. In fact, the wince factor of this book is through the roof, and I thought someone ought to warn you. But if you want to read something that is profoundly and Biblically true, revolutionary and life-changing, this is it. Garth has given Gods people a wonderful gift, and I rise up and call him blessed. You will, too!

Steve Brown, professor, author, radio show host, and leader of Key Life Network

I have more thoughts, emotions, and places your story took me than I am able to capture. I had to let you know that the Lord has deeply impacted me through your book. Thank you.

Jim Amandus, Senior Pastor at Highlands Community Church near Seattle

Outside the Camp tells the story of a former pastors journey through a season of turmoil and personal failure. The story of his decade of disillusionment sets the context for his observations as a church outsider in regards to how evangelical churches often fail in response to the wounded, the outcasts, and the sinners in their midst.

Offered in the form of Biblical lament, three concerns are addressed:

the evangelical church does not truly offeror even fully understandthe gospel of grace it preaches, instead suggesting that believers need to try harder and do more to prove themselves worthy of Gods favor,

the faith community is artificial rather than authentic, and too often the wounds of its soldiers are left unattended, people whose pain is too deep and complex for the church to easily comprehend are referred outside the church for the help they need to survive, or they are simply neglected. The book concludes with a consideration of Gods intent to restore sinners by offering grace that is full and free, with a call for the church to once again communicate the unadulterated gospel to all who need its healing balm.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Jan 13, 2017
• ISBN: 9781512766936

Garth Cross

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Copyright © 2016, 2017 Garth Cross.

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Scripture quotations are from the ESV® Bible (The Holy Bible, English Standard Version®), copyright © 2001 by Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

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ISBN: 978-1-5127-6694-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5127-6695-0 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5127-6693-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016920116

WestBow Press rev. date: 1/13/2017

CONTENTS

Author’s Note And Acknowledgements

Introduction

Part One: Fallen

Chapter 1   Storms A-Comin’

Chapter 2   Shattered Trust

Chapter 3   The Bumpy Road To Restoration

Chapter 4   Downward Spiral

Chapter 5   Where Is God In All Of This?

Part Two: Three Laments

First Lament: On Sin And Shame

Chapter 6   Something I Am

Chapter 7   Toxic Shame

Chapter 8   The Heart Of The Gospel

Chapter 9   Recovering The Doctrine Of Justification

Second Lament: On Broken Community

Chapter 10   For Whom The Bell Tolls

Chapter 11   Tilted Halos

Chapter 12   Restore Such A One

Third Lament: On People In Pain

Chapter 13   The Cry Of The Afflicted

Chapter 14   Two Words

Chapter 15   When Darkness Falls

Chapter 16   Depression And The Church

Part Three: Falling (Into His Arms)

Chapter 17   Reaching

Chapter 18   Neither Do I Condemn You

Afterword

Bibliography

To those few dear souls whose support has been constant

and whose love has been unconditional …

thank you for accepting me just as I am.

AUTHOR’S NOTE AND ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I have something to confess. My name is not Garth Cross. The name does hold some significance for me. It hints at an obscure historical reference to a refuge for those in need built by a distant relative during the Middle Ages. (Don’t bother with an online search. Like I say, it’s obscure, and you would need an additional clue to find any valid references.)

The identities of the others you meet in my story are also hidden. As Joe Friday used to say at the beginning of each episode of Dragnet, the story you are about to [read] is true. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent. And the guilty, too, I suppose.

In this book, I write about my failure and the failure of the church in response. Of course, it is impossible to write about my experience truthfully and transparently without casting others in a negative light from time to time, or without revealing details they may consider an invasion of their privacy. My story is a real story, so all the players have faults and weaknesses. Yes, even church leaders—gasp! But it is not my desire or intent to hurt or embarrass or defame anyone, so I have chosen not to reveal their identities. As a consequence, mine must be hidden as well.

I will admit that hiding my identity by using a pen name was not my idea, and I kicked and screamed a bit before succumbing to the suggestion. Telling the story in this way seems contrary to a major component of my message: a call for the church to better understand that all its members are both saints and sinners, that we all live in need of God’s extravagant grace, and that we all must live without pretense if we are to experience the deep sense of community to which we are called.

My fear is that I do damage to my message by hiding behind a pen name. I would certainly prefer to use my real name. So believe me when I say that my identity is hidden not for my sake, but for the sake of others who might find offense in what I have written about them. It has always been my intention to fully own my story and my sin. If I ever have the opportunity to hand you this book, I will not hesitate to say, My name is ________, and this is my story.

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After hearing my story when I was in therapy a few years ago, my counselor (a former pastor who had gone on to earn his doctorate in psychology) said to me, I don’t know how you are still alive. At the time, I had little emotional or practical support. I had no job, few friends, a pile of debt, a failed past, and little hope for the future. The counselor feared for my safety—and for good reason.

What kept me going? Largely, it was the truth of the gospel as expressed in a myriad of ways through the written and spoken words of a diverse group of people, most of whom I have never met. Each of them contributed to my understanding of sin and shame, of life and faith, of God and his grace. You’ll see their names often throughout this book in my comments, quotations, and footnotes. In effect, my work is a compilation of their good work implanted in my mind and soul.

Foremost on that list is Michael Horton, professor of apologetics and systematic theology at Westminster Seminary in California. Dr. Horton hosts a radio program called The White Horse Inn, is editor-in-chief of Modern Reformation magazine, and has written numerous books and articles. His writings and radio broadcasts have been a consistent encouragement for well over twenty years as I have striven to know what I believe and why I believe it. And I should not fail to mention his radio co-hosts, Kim Riddlebarger, Rod Rosenbladt, and (formerly) Ken Jones. Their consistent focus on the gospel of grace has been a great encouragement through my darkest days.

The lectures and writings of Dan Allender have also been instrumental in encouraging me, first to understand my story and then to tell it. His prompting is to listen to the heartache and hope that are etched in the narrative of your life… [and] find the meaning God has written there.¹ I will not forget the empathy that exuded from him as he listened and responded to an abbreviated form of my story while sitting across the table at a seminary luncheon a few years ago, nor will I forget that he took time to pen a lengthy reply when I emailed him with a longer version of my story.

Several years ago, I discovered a website for pooped pastors, and I gained access to the private forum in which struggling pastors anonymously share their honest questions and stories, along with responses and encouragement for others. I posted five short paragraphs outlining my struggles, and several pastors responded. One of them, Pooped Pastor #1, asked me to email his office and provide his assistant with a phone number at which he could reach me so we could cuss and spit together. His name is Steve Brown, and after completing thirty years of pastoral ministry, he now serves as an author, radio show host, and professor. We had a pleasant and encouraging phone conversation. Before we concluded I asked for his thoughts about a book idea. His response encouraged more than five years of effort that have gone into completion of this project.

Many others whose writing and teaching have influenced me might be mentioned: R.C. Sproul, David Wells, Michael Wilkins, and Garry DeWeese among them. I have gained additional insight from original sources: the writings of the Church Fathers and Augustine, of Luther and Calvin, and of more recent classics from the likes of C.S. Lewis and Dietrich Bonhoeffer. Others—such as Brennan Manning, Gordon MacDonald, and Henri Nouwen—have influenced my thinking regarding the Christian life in times of woundedness. I have appreciated the emphasis on grace provided by pastors like Tullian Tchividjian and Paul Tripp. Chap Clark and the late Dennis Guernsey have contributed to my understanding of social systems, and Joe Myers expanded my thinking regarding various aspects of belonging within a faith community.

I am indebted to each of these pastors, professors, and scholars, though I have met only a few of them. But there are others who know me well and whose encouragement and help along the journey have also made it possible for me to face life and the hard lessons it has been teaching. Sadly, the list here is not as long and, regretfully, I cannot mention any of these people by name without giving clues as to my identity.

It starts with my family of origin. Throughout my life, my parents (who are now in their mid-nineties) have loved me deeply in ways that I feel to my core. In my darkest times, when I think to myself, nobody loves me, there is always the caveat: … except Mom and Dad.

At one point on my long journey I would certainly have been living on the streets except for the largesse of my siblings, who made sure that I did not drown financially and provided the bulk of the emotional support I was receiving as well. Frankly, I had not been particularly close to any of them during most of my adult life, with lifestyles and geographical distance separating us. My ordeal has reunited us, and I am thankful for their concern and their tangible expressions of love.

Of all those in my former church, I can count on one hand the people who have made an effort to stay in touch—and have a thumb left over! Their encouragement, acceptance, and support has, quite literally, kept me alive. I have also enjoyed renewed relationships with my best friend from high school and my best friend from my college days. They seem willing to relate to me as if nothing had changed over the years. That is true of so few.

Others have also provided significant support from time to time: my first youth pastor has remained a friend and offered knowledgeable advice and acceptance; a Presbyterian pastor you will meet in the opening pages of chapter one served as a confidante during my darker days and has also remained a loyal friend; and a nationally-known ministry leader—who I first met when he spoke at a conference during my early years in ministry—has stayed connected and been a great encourager.

When I made a major geographical move several years ago, I wanted to re-engage in church life, and I found support from the pastor of a church I began attending near my brother’s home (where I was staying at the time). During the few months I attended his church, he met with me frequently and arranged for the church to provide the funds needed for me to seek counseling. It was that counselor who affirmed my struggles and helped me take positive steps to overcome all that was destroying me. Another pastor I met at a megachurch we attended for a few years has also provided consistent encouragement and friendship ever since.

I regret that I cannot mention the names of these personal friends, pastors, and counselors who have provided so much support and encouragement. I am indebted to each one of them, and I hope they recognize themselves in these brief comments.

But above all, it is my wife to whom I am most indebted. She has kept me on firm footing. When no one else believed in me (except Mom and Dad, of course), she did. When I felt lost and lonely, she was there. She knows all too well the road I have traveled, yet she is willing to join me on the journey. She understands me in a way that no one else does. She has encouraged me in my writing, even when it means that I hole up in front of my computer while she is left to herself. She knows that writing is my therapy, and she has allowed me the time and space to pursue it. It is to her credit that she is willing to risk pain by allowing me to write my story in the way I would tell it when the telling of my story opens old wounds in her as well.

Thank you, my love, for persevering by my side and for giving me the courage and strength to keep moving forward each day. Without you, I could not take a single step.

INTRODUCTION

He is unclean. He shall live alone.

His dwelling shall be outside the camp.

~ Leviticus 13:46

I used to be concerned that my life had seen so little heartache. Until a little more than ten years ago, I served as one of the pastors of a successful, growing church, and I loved spending my days helping to envision and implement God’s plan for our local ministry. In addition, I had many opportunities to extend the reach of my ministry by leading short-term missions teams, pursuing writing projects, participating on various ministry boards, and occasionally teaching at or helping to organize several ministry conferences. I considered my marriage to be good, and God blessed my wife, Sue, and me with three great children and many dear friends.² We were a one-income, homeschooling family, so we didn’t have a lot, but we handled our finances well and generally lived a comfortable middle-class life. The members of our extended family were all healthy and seemed happy. Life was good. All was well.

But, as I say, I often wondered why I had not faced greater struggle and sorrow in life, and I feared that at some point I would be put to the test. In fact, I sometimes envisioned possible tests of faith that might someday come: the death of one of my children, perhaps, or of my wife; the destruction of our house and our belongings; a crisis in my own state of health. In each of these scenarios, I considered how I might respond and, of course, my imagined response always reflected great faith, courage, and grace. I was thankful, though, for the blessings God had provided, and deep within I hoped life’s trials would never be terribly severe.

Ten years ago the test came … and I failed!

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As a result of my failure, I lived outside the camp for nearly a decade. I borrow that phrase from Old Testament usage regarding the encampment of the Hebrews as they wandered in the wilderness. God issued specific instructions for how the twelve tribes were to set up their camp at each stop along the way. Three tribes were to be positioned on the north side of the camp, three others on the south, and three tribes as well on the east and west sides. The tabernacle, where God dwelt and was to be worshiped, was to be positioned in the center. And anyone who was declared to be unclean was to be put outside the camp (Lev. 13–14; Num. 5:1–4).

That’s me—unclean, unwanted, and unwelcome. At least, that’s how I felt at my former church following my failure. The senior leadership made it clear that my expressions of repentance and attempts to rebuild my marriage after an inappropriate emotional relationship with another woman were not sufficient to welcome me back into meaningful involvement in the life of the church. After twenty years of participation and service at a church I loved, the message that was communicated to me in a myriad of ways was you’re not as good as the rest of us … you don’t belong here … we will be better off without you.

Many, many days of darkness and disillusionment followed, and until recently I have been reluctant to fully engage in the life of any church. It is this story, in which faith and failure collide, that I detail with great remorse in Part One (chapters one through five). Entitled Fallen, it is a narrative of which I am certainly not proud, but which is necessary to set the context for all that follows. The lessons learned come later, in Parts Two and Three. If you are more interested in the content of the book than the context, you could certainly skip the first part. I would advise against it, however. Understanding the circumstances that so shaped my thoughts regarding myself, my God, and his church can only help, I think, in assessing whether my notions are useful.

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Deep within my crisis of faith, during which the things I knew to be true intellectually didn’t seem to work themselves out in my experience, two questions were predominant. The first was what went wrong? The answers have proven to be far from simple.

I have asked this question first, of course, in relation to my marriage. I never believed I was in any danger of being unfaithful to my wife, emotionally or otherwise. But I was. I never thought my marriage would end in divorce. But it did. Now, after many years of reflection and counseling, I better understand the dynamics that affected us, some of which extend back into the earliest days of our relationship. We established poor patterns in handling conflict, and the level of intimacy we experienced as a couple was correspondingly compromised. But this book is not about what went wrong in my marriage, and I will say little in that regard.

Instead, my intent is to ask what went wrong in the process of restoration and reconciliation within our church following my failure. While the response of the church to my behavior came in a specific setting, at a specific time, and under a specific set of circumstances, I maintain that the attitudes and actions of the church leadership in that time and place are indicative of a broader failure in the modern American church. If that’s true, perhaps my reflections can sound a warning for the church today to reconsider how it deals with the wounded, the outcasts, and the sinners in its midst, and how it understands and communicates the gospel of grace.

The second question I have asked is the question that always emerges in the midst of personal crisis in the life of a believer: where are you, God? Even the most faithful among us asks this question from time to time—when trials come, when grief strikes, when pain and suffering overwhelm us, when life’s circumstances turn in a wholly unexpected direction. As we did in infancy with our earthly parents, we cry out to our divine Parent, longing for his extravagant and unrestrained care and comfort. At times, God responds to alleviate our pain. But when the suffering and the turmoil continue unabated, we begin to feel that our cries are unheard or unheeded. We may know God has not departed, but we feel he is distant and non-responsive.

This questioning of God’s presence in time of need is at the heart of Biblical lament, and so I adopt the form of lament in Part Two as I explore three areas of tension between how I once viewed the church and how I think of it now. The function of a lament is to provide a structure in which to express pain, grief, and despair in order to move from pain to joy, from darkness to light, from desperation to hope. It is, says Claus Westermann, a movement toward God,³ and it is the movement I am seeking to make both in this book and in my life. Discussions regarding these three laments comprise the major portion of the book as I attempt to communicate the principal ideas and themes that have rattled around in my three pounds of brain during the last ten years of despair and disillusionment.

While I have been wounded by the actions taken by the church I once served—yes, in response to the wounds I inflicted upon them—I have neither the heart nor the intent to condemn the church. While I seek to provide critical analysis regarding failures I have observed from the perspective of one who was once deeply embedded in church ministry but who now views the church as an outsider, let it be understood that my thoughts are meant to be instructive rather than destructive. I love the church as God designed it, and I am attempting to reconcile myself to the church as it is. May the latter become more in accord with the former.

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It is my contention that a misunderstanding of grace and the misapplication of forgiveness and compassion in the spirit of true Biblical community are among the greatest weaknesses of the evangelical church in America today. My three laments are intended to further clarify how these weaknesses contribute to the church’s decay.

I first lament the church’s failure to fully comprehend the nature of sin and shame—not in its theology, but in its practice. The church acknowledges the reality of sin, but seems surprised and confused when sin is discovered within her midst. The gospel is often viewed as something to be directed to unbelievers, while the message to sinning Christians involves a good dose of law to return them to the straight and narrow path. We speak of the gospel, but we fail to comprehend its scandalous nature. Without a deep understanding of the reality of sin, even within the church, the gospel itself is diminished. I argue in the first lament (chapters six through nine) that a right understanding and application of the gospel of grace is needed if the church has any chance of regaining its voice within our society.

Next, I lament the church’s failure to embrace true Biblical community by acknowledging and rejecting American individualism (chapters ten through twelve). The church often falls far short of the Biblical imperative to love one another and does not seem to genuinely comprehend that when one member suffers, the entire body suffers. And because we hold an inadequate view of the gospel, we believers too often hide our fallenness from one another in an attempt to live up to the Christian ideal that seems to be expected. As a result, today’s church promotes artificial community created in the context of ministry programming rather than counter-cultural authentic community.

Artificial community is not up to the task of addressing the deep needs of people who experience real pain, further affecting the influence and significance of the church. The third lament (chapters thirteen through sixteen) addresses the church’s failure to focus its efforts on people in pain. Rather, the church often seems more concerned with promoting its programs in pursuit of numerical success. Far too many people experience real, heart-wrenching, faith-threatening troubles and turmoil, and the church too often responds cavalierly, if they respond at all.

While once only the fodder of academic study for me, these three spheres of thought now flow from the context and perspective of my story. Sad and tragic and ugly as it may be, it is the story God has given me, and I believe that God wants to use even the repelling, acrid fragrances of my life to spread the fragrance of the knowledge of him everywhere, an aroma of God’s life-giving grace (2 Cor. 2:14–17). In our lives, writes Amy Grant, the darkest times, the days that are bleak and black, add depth to every other experience. Like the dark bits of color in a mosaic, they add the contrast and shadows that give beauty to the whole, but they are just a small part of the big picture.⁴

Slowly, I have been putting together the pieces of my life’s big picture, although the dark bits still seem pervasive at times and the picture remains somewhat dark and blurry. Writing has been my catharsis, my way of finding a sense of purpose and hope again. It is my attempt to take that first hesitant step back inside the camp by contributing my small voice to the ongoing dialogue within the faith community, a community to which I believe I still belong.

But while the themes of this book arise out of my story, it is ultimately God’s story that is at the heart of what I have written. When it comes to lament, God’s Word is always the final word. The complaints contained within my laments can only be adequately addressed by God’s character and his authoritative communication to mankind through Scripture. So in Part Three (chapters seventeen and eighteen), I run like the prodigal son into the embrace of the loving, forgiving, and grace-giving Father. And so it is entitled, Falling (into His Arms).

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The first sermon I ever delivered was entitled God’s Amazing Grace and my starting point was Romans, chapter 9. In that controversial passage, God’s sovereign choice is emphasized by the illustration of two twins, one chosen and one rejected, before birth and before they had done anything good or bad—in order that God’s purpose in election might continue, not because of works but because of him who calls (Rom. 9:11).

Like Jacob and Esau, I am a twin, and my brother and I have followed different spiritual paths to this point. Though we look alike, talk with the same intonations, have the same sense of humor, and have very similar skill sets, God chose me as a recipient of his grace. (My brother would certainly see things quite differently.) His choice was not based on anything I have done or will do, whether by my will or by my effort. Nor is it negated by anything I have done or will do. It is simply, inexplicably because God, in his sovereignty, chose my life—warts and all—to serve in demonstrating his gracious character.

His grace isn’t something I have opportunity to preach about formally anymore, but by writing my wrongs and the lessons I am learning, I again recognize the truth I started with so many years ago: that God’s incredible, wonderful, freely-given, incomprehensible, amazing grace is mine, regardless of my shortcomings, my failures, and my sin. That’s what makes grace so amazing.

My purpose in all that follows is to offer a unique perspective on how today’s evangelical church has missed the mark. My prayer is that my thoughts may, in some small way, contribute to a renewed resolve within the church to exist as a true agent of forgiveness, grace, and hope for those who discover that they are far, far less than perfect. May the attention of the church be turned again to where it belongs—to God and his scandalous grace, and to renewal of a heart for the ministry of reconciliation toward sinners like me.

May God’s grace abound to you all!

PART ONE

FALLEN

The telling of my story begins as I gaze at the snow-covered peak of Chair Mountain to the west. I am sitting on a second-level deck at a retreat center in the middle of the Colorado Rockies. It has been sunny and pleasant for the past several days, with signs of spring all around, but a strong breeze blows and dark clouds pass overhead to warn of a coming storm. Winter has not yet passed.

So it is with my life.

~ from a short-lived journal I started after my failure was exposed

CHAPTER ONE

Storms A-Comin’

To live by grace means to acknowledge my whole life story, the light side and the dark.

~ Brennan Manning, The Ragamuffin Gospel

T he phone call was unexpected, and it changed the course of my life—perhaps more so than any other event in my life. I had just come through my most tumultuous year. A little more than a week earlier, my church had held a restoration service in which my failings were revealed and forgiven, and I was pronounced free to return to the normalcy of church life and ministry. It had not been an easy road, but I felt my family and I would finally be able to move beyond the pain I had inflicted upon us. The darkest days, it seemed, were behind us.

Then came the phone call from Bill, one of the pastors at the Presbyterian church my wife and I had been attending as a respite while the restoration process was playing out at our home church. He had attended the restoration service to provide emotional support, and he informed me that the senior pastor at my church had called him the day after the service to request a meeting. Bill called me immediately after their meeting that day, and Bill’s words were alarming: You need to know what he is saying about you …

Let me tell you the story of what came before, and what followed.

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The senior pastor had presided at the restoration service, offering brief comments about the general circumstances related to my resignation. He commented on how hard my wife and I had worked to rebuild our troubled marriage: Had it not been for their deep desire and commitment to bring glory to God by seeking restoration in their marriage relationship and relationships at church, by repenting of sin, and by seeking forgiveness for that sin, he said, we would not be here today.

Then, he called on the chairman of our spiritual care team to explain the restoration process we had completed. The chairman thanked us for our resolve to work through this difficult chapter … the way in which they submitted to church leadership … the effort they have put into correcting weak areas in their lives and in their relationship … and their patience with us in this process. And then I was offered the opportunity to speak.

The auditorium was filled with people who had waited to learn what sin had caused the elders to request my resignation a year earlier. Fearing a lawsuit, I had been asked at the time to withhold the details and state only that I had sinned. During the year, no additional information was ever provided, and I was seldom acknowledged or mentioned. Now I was finally free to fully confess what I had done.

I spoke at length, revealing inappropriate emotional involvement with another woman—it’s called an emotionally-entangled affair in psychological literature. I expressed the sorrow I felt for the harm I had brought to my family and our church, and I asked for the church’s forgiveness. I also spoke about the successes and difficulties of our journey during the preceding year: the relational progress Sue and I had made at a counseling center in Colorado for pastoral couples in crisis; the lessons we had learned about ourselves through our long, bi-weekly counseling sessions with a pastor from a nearby city; and the feelings of rejection and isolation we felt as the proverbial elephant in the room each time we stepped through the church doors. Because I felt the cloud of secrecy in regard to my sin was not healthy for me, my family, or the church, I challenged the church family to respond to sinners in their midst with greater honesty, understanding, and compassion.

The church members were allowed to ask questions at the conclusion, and I will never forget the question that one retired pastor asked from the back of the room: You don’t fire someone for that, he began. "Are you going to tell us what he really did? The question arose out of the many rumors that had spread throughout the preceding year—rumors of embezzlement, sexual affairs and, shockingly, incest. The senior pastor replied that there was nothing more: Garth was involved emotionally with another woman. He has said that there was no sexual involvement, and we believe him."

The response following the service was a welcome relief. So many people offered forgiveness, hugs, and encouragement, and many acknowledged they had not known how to respond to us since the nature and extent of my sin was unknown. My wife and I were delighted that we could return to our church family the following Sunday. That day, we truly felt the embrace of the church for the first time since my unexpected resignation a year earlier. But two days later, the phone