“There is a form of humility which consists in accepting neither people’s censure nor their praise, but in remaining simply before the judgment of God and one’s own conscience, as in the story of a brother who wanted to know how he should respond to praise and to criticism. ‘Go to the graveyard,’ said his spiritual father, ‘and abuse the dead.’ He did so and when he came back his father asked him what the dead had done in response. ‘Nothing,’ said the young monk, ‘they remained silent.’ ‘Go back and praise them,’ said the elder. And when his disciple had reported that the cemetery had remained as silent as before, he said, ‘Do the same as the dead, human judgment no longer affects them for they stand always in the sight of God.’” —Meditations on a Theme, Anthony of Sourozh

I was recently at a Vineyard leadership conference in San Antonio. I was excited about rubbing shoulders with some of the best, brightest and most effective pastors in our movement. Perhaps I would sit at a table with men/women that I had only podcasted previously. During the 3 hour flight into TX, I dosed off and dreamt of witty conversation, poignant stories and most certainly a promise of mentorship with these long distance heroes. I woke up jittery–seriously nervous. I realized, most certainly I will meet these men and women I have admired for many years. There will be conversation. Even worse, I know the conversation will probably be witty on their end, but all I can promise is a well-timed fart or a joke about a priest, a rabbi and a Vineyard pastor. Oh, the intimidation! I wanted to hide in our hotel room. I knew I could never relate to these leaders.

After we arrived and settled into our first couple meetings, I was struck how these men and women who lead churches of thousands and have been used by God to heal and preach boldly were really ordinary. I thought there might be a little more pizzazz. Not so though. Just a little older than me, a little more influence, a good bit more wisdom, but on the whole…they looked just like me. Somewhat relieved, I watched surprisingly as there was no jockeying for seats of position or stories of glorious church victories. Not one of my heroes stood up with “the answer”. In fact, what they all seemed to have in common was humility. A humility that was grounded in what James 5:17 says, “Elijah was a man just like us.” Even though many had achieved church success, it was almost like it didn’t matter to them. I realized this is where our similarities ended. On the most basic level they had caught up with the dream of mega-pastor, circuit speaker and book-deal kind of person. They had it all….and they didn’t care. Not that they don’t care about their church and imparting life at conferences and even writing books to help young guys like me, but they just didn’t seem to be impressed with who they were.

As I looked in the mirror in between meetings, I was looking at the antithesis of who they were. Humility? Sure. As long as it’s shrouded in praise. Quietly listening? Of course. As long they know I am listening. Submission? That’s a given. As long as I get my way.

It’s during these times where the veil is dropped that I once again realize my own sin, self-centeredness, and desire for more of people’s validation. The course of action is painful: I must die. I must constantly affirm what Paul said, “I am crucified with Christ, I know longer live, but it is Christ who lives in me…” Next time I find myself with these men and women, whom I admire more than ever, I will know they may not be just like me, but I am not too far behind. Longing to make a difference, praying for the kingdom, preaching for repentance and worshiping expectantly…and all for the sake of Jesus to be known and remembered.