Haggard

Unless you've been living under a rock or on another planet, you've heard the news about Pastor Ted Haggard and New Life Church here in Colorado Springs. It's actually old news; the election hoo-hah has buried the story for now. Oh, it'll surface when the papers need a story, but for the most part, we've moved on...Ted Haggard will begin a process of restoration, guided by a couple of megachurch pastors who evidently know alot about restoration (I hope) and New Life Church will have a new leader christened by the first of the year to guide the church into the future.

I've kept some clippings from the newspapers during those days. I have the text of the letters from Ted Haggard and Mrs. Haggard - letters read to their church this last Sunday. The text is important in this story, but its the images that I've found most substantive. I found it interesting that the photo the paper chose of Ted presents the square jaw and white teeth of a megachurch pastor and national evangelical leader. The photo of Ted's wife is nothing like that; her picture fits her married name - haggard. She presents the eyes of woman steeling herself against winds that are blowing with hurricane force and her mouth looks like that of a little girl about to cry. There were a couple of pictures of their sons in different editions; one son in a group of church members presenting the confidence of his father and two other sons in the backseat of a pickup with looks that resembled those of the disciples when the soldiers came to get Jesus in the garden. These Haggard family pictures, all of them, made me cry.

However, there was one that stopped me in my tracks and made me mad. It was that of the group of pastors who read the apology letters this last Sunday at New Life Church. They were/are men who have had some type of accountability relationship with Ted Haggard over the years. The front and center man in this particular photo is a very successful pastor from down south. He is standing in front of one of those Plexiglas pulpits and his arms are outstretched in a pose I've seen used in statues of Christ - hands extended, inviting or welcoming people. He's wearing one of those fashionable microphones that fit over your ear and run down your cheekline. His hair is coiffed and it appears he's got on several layers of makeup. His suit is tailored with four or five buttons down the front and his shirt and tie are the stuff of GQ spreads. And I thought, "damn." This whole story is about not being able to let the dirt show, not feeling safe enough or brave enough to take off the cuff links and let the demons fly. The pressure to maintain the image of success and flash and suave-vey and confidence and blessed assurance was so great, so huge, that Haggard kept his flesh and blood at bay for years. And instead of an observable humility this past Sunday, that church was led by the gatekeepers of the imago mega. I realize you can be a horse's ass in Levis and a t-shirt, but I saw nothing "new life" about that scene; it was the same "old life' and same "image-laden" leaders who put all their eggs in the baskets of words and looks. I would have ponied-up a C-note if that old boy from down south would've shown up in sackcloth and ashes, weeping like Jeremiah the prophet and scaring a lot more people than he comforted. I'd of stood up and said "amen" if those guys would've said, "You know, enough with this image stuff; we're all bastards here and maybe it's time that you heard that message from us, your leaders, and maybe it's time you know that Ted H. ain't the only pastor who wrestles with demons and loses. Maybe it's time we get off this Americanized-fast-track-to-God-train and stop trying so hard to hold each other accountable and maybe try a little harder to hold each other close, even when the smell is the sulfurized rank of sin." I haven't walked an aisle in years, but a message like that from the polished boys and I would've released the chair and made my way down front humming "ye who are weary come home, with my pocketbook open to give to an orphange or something."

Ole' James Dobson pulled out of the restoration team today; he said he was just too busy. My guess is that James knew the dirt was dirty with Ted and getting closer to him would probably result in more frequent trips to the dry cleaners. He was raised with the notion that you're known by the company you keep and he didn't want to keep that kind of company. Keep it clean, keep it coiffed, keep it button-downed and clear as Plexiglas. Forgive us, Father, for we know what we do and keep on doing it; know what we see and keep on supporting it; know what we hear and keep on listening. We just don't know ourselves.