Having spent time at the Dream Center in Los Angeles while writing the book The Cause within You with Matthew Barnett, this phrase brought to mind the people I’d met and worked with at DC-LA, people who pour themselves into helping struggling people find God, themselves, and their God-given purpose for living. It is inspiring to be around such people, and uplifting to watch the mighty works that God does in and through the lives of those who give themselves fully to Him. They fit my notion of those who are devoted in very tangible and productive ways to a great and holy cause.

During the 30 years of research I’ve been blessed to conduct, it may seem curious that I never directly asked people to identify the single “great and holy cause” to which they are devoted. That question never occurred to me because the questions I have posed regarding purpose, meaning, influence, service, holiness, and the like have consistently revealed that very few Americans are devoted to any cause greater than their own well-being. Most people say they want to “make a difference.” Few people are willing to sacrifice and suffer on behalf of a cause that may be righteous and other-centered but also controversial, challenging, underfunded, or culturally invisible.

Forgive me if this seems like a rant. It’s not meant to be. After spending the last six years immersed in the research and personal struggles related to holistic transformation, as described in Maximum Faith, I know that transformation must start with me before I can hope to facilitate it in the lives of others.

So today I am challenging myself to produce a full profile of the “great and holy cause” to which I am devoting my life.

And I am asking you to do the same.

As a cautionary note, we cannot seduce ourselves into believing that simplistic and pious answers like “I am devoted to the cause of Christ” or “I am devoted to the advance of the kingdom of God” are adequate. Those are pleasant concepts, but what specifically is the heartbeat of our activity in such a grand pursuit? What do these sweeping expressions, like “the cause of Christ” or “advancing the kingdom” really mean – and look like? What, specifically, are you and I doing – today – that reflects our total commitment to a great and holy cause? This is the difference between mission (we are servants of God) and vision (the specific and unique calling He has gifted and prepared us for). Getting beyond mission to vision is where the rubber meets the road, and getting beyond vision to execution is where transformation becomes a reality.

In conducting the research for and then writing my latest book, Maximum Faith, it became apparent that the leaders of Jesus’s day struggled with evaluation, too. So Jesus gave them a simple solution: look for the fruit.

The transformational journey is inextricably connected to the fruit we produce as we become closer to and more like Christ. As I explored the dynamics related to each of the ten stops that one must master to achieve wholeness on earth, I discovered that each stop correlates with specific types of fruit. Our goal is to become like Christ, integrating His identity and character but the means is not to strive to produce a life marked by such fruit. Rather the fruit is the evidence of our metamorphosis to a holier nature, a natural outgrowth of who we have become more than what we have learned to do. The distinction is critical but is often lost in the well-intentioned noise of our teaching, programs, and evaluation processes.

My research revealed that certain outcomes – behaviors, attitudes, desires – do not emerge until a person reaches a particular level of growth. For instance, those who are struggling with implications of sin and have not yet asked Jesus to forgive them (stop 3) bear overtly different fruit than those who have been broken of sin, self, and society, and have fully surrendered and submitted their life to God (stop 8). Knowing where a person is on the journey helps us to know what fruit to look for or expect. After all, you can’t naturally produce stop 8 fruit if you’re a stop 3 person.

My friend’s article reminded me how important it is that we measure the right things. To their credit, most churches voluntarily measure various outcomes. Unfortunately, most of what we measure is, frankly, irrelevant. Jesus didn’t die a painful death so we could fill our auditoriums and sanctuaries. He didn’t suffer unjustly so we could raise enough money to build out a 50-acre campus. He didn’t endure public humiliation simply to enable us to hire more religious professionals or add more programs to the ministry menu. His sacrifice was meant to prepare and motivate us to pursue the ultimate transformational adventure, enabling us to become intimate with Him and intimately like Him.

So if we look for fruit as the evidence of growth and advancing maturity – say, for instance, tangible evidence of love, joy, peace, patience, goodness, kindness, compassion, sacrificial service, truthfulness – then how do you measure such things?

Although I’ve been conducting surveys for 30-plus years, I think the best way to assess one’s transformational standing is through observations borne out of relational engagement. Americans usually over-estimate their spiritual maturity in surveys. Perhaps that’s a sign of our lack of humility, or simply ignorance about the true meaning and depth of genuine transformational outcomes. Rather than answering survey questions, conversation with and observation by those closest to us are more likely to provide the unfiltered and objective insight we need. After all, it’s much easier to claim personal growth and maturity in a survey than to bluff your way past those who know you best and love you enough to raise tough, pertinent questions and to give you truthful feedback. The people who know me best can capably discern whether I’m making progress in my journey to Christ-likeness, and what kind of fruit I’m really producing. Those same people are most likely to address my reality with a bluntness and compassion that I need in order to grow.

What have been your best – and worst – experiences in measuring people’s progress toward whole-person maturity? What do you measure? How do you measure it? What can you do to upgrade your evaluation process?

Armed with this iron-clad guarantee of salvation, most believers think they can then work on becoming a “good Christian” at their leisure. This effort usually entails attending church, donating money, praying, reading the Bible at home, and living a mostly-moral life. Protestants, warned by Reformed theologians about the insidious trap of confusing the merits of personal works with the gift of God’s grace, blindly accept the notion that their acts of religious engagement and spiritual commitment done after their prayer of confession are simply icing on the cake that win them extra “jewels in your crown.”

Of course, the idea that good behavior is laudable but unnecessary in light of how eternal judgment works is utterly wrong. Jesus did not die an unjust and excruciating death on the cross just so people could get a free ride into Heaven. In fact, Jesus’s death was not so much about keeping us out of Hell as much as it was designed to stimulate an intimate, life altering relationship with us that initiates our journey to eternal joy in God’s presence. (It’s fascinating – but culturally consistent – to witness how American Christians also mistakenly imagine life in Heaven as an opportunity to have a self-satisfying, unrestricted pleasure romp in the afterlife. However, that is not what God promises or how the Bible portrays our possible relocation to Heaven. Our presence in Heaven, like our time on earth, is meant to be about God’s joy, not ours, even though we will undoubtedly experience unparalleled ecstasy. The joy we experience will come from giving Him pleasure and from the personally unwarranted privilege of being in His wonderful presence.)

I understand why many preachers avoid passages such as those in James (1:22-27; 2:12-26; 4:7-10) which extol the role of good behavior. But of course the context is not that such behavior makes us more loveable or redeemable; it simply demonstrates that there has truly been a change of heart toward God, life, and people. American Christians radically undervalue the worth of the spiritual fruit that reflects their maturation and intimacy with Christ.

Jesus proclaimed that salvation was available to all people, but He also noted that most people would not accept God’s offer of salvation through grace alone. The research in Maximum Faith suggests that full-life transformation is something that few will experience because it demands that we surrender everything and submit every aspect of ourselves to God in order to be truly victorious. In a culture like ours, cheap grace is a whole lot more appealing.

As I left my hotel to drive to dinner one evening after a midday game at the stadium, I was stopped at a traffic light. While waiting for the light to turn I noticed a homeless guy maybe a dozen feet away, sitting in the median strip with a sign asking for money to buy food. I am always conflicted about those situations. I never hand money to street people, but instead will either buy them a meal or groceries so I know they’re getting the food they’ve requested. This was one of those moments where I had an inner urge to take the guy to the restaurant with me and pay for his meal.

Glancing back and forth between the traffic light and the guy sitting on the grass, my mind raced through a series of reasons why it made no sense to get involved. I couldn’t get my car over to the lane next to his place on the median strip, to invite him in the car. Stopping traffic while he ran around to climb in the car would inconvenience the drivers behind me and would be unsafe for him. I didn’t know if he was dangerous or armed. The considerations kept coming to mind. Yet, the inner urge – yes, a “still, small voice” – persisted.

In mid debate the traffic light changed and the line of cars jolted forward. I followed suit, still debating the wisdom of helping the man in need. Finally, two blocks further down the road, I decided that this urge had to be the Holy Spirit promoting me, maybe testing me, and I needed to go back and get the guy. But, of course, the traffic patterns conspired against me making a u-turn or other diversion for another several blocks. So I impatiently sat in traffic at a couple more lights. Eventually I did reverse my direction and arrived at the original traffic light where the fellow had been sitting with his sign. It probably took me 10 minutes to get back.

He was nowhere to be found.

I couldn’t believe it. I went a few extra blocks, scrutinizing that median strip as if he’d be hiding under the turf. I drove into a couple of the parking lots of strip malls near the intersection where I’d first seen him, anxiously looking between parked cars and on the pavement for the man. No luck.

After a few more minutes of searching, I gave up and went to dinner, pondering the situation. Here’s the lesson I took from the experience.

When God speaks, recognize His voice. Listen to what He says. Obey.

The rest of my trip was tainted by this latest instance of my failing to heed God’s offer to bless someone. It’s not the first time I’ve blown it and unfortunately I am sure it won’t be the last. But getting the simple things right are important. And this was so simple. Following the practice of knowing God’s voice and doing what He says is a central part of the transformation process. Listen and obey. It doesn’t get much simpler than that. But sometimes the simple things seem so hard…

Many churches I have worked with or observed struggle to discover how to facilitate such relationships. I received a powerful reminder in the “how to” over the past few months through one of my life passions: music.

In August I attended a Styx concert with a fellow musician. In November I saw the Carl Palmer Band up close and personal with a good friend who is a drummer. This month I attended a performance by bluesman Walter Trout, accompanied by a good friend who is a guitarist. In each case, our excitement over the shared experience drew us closer together. Because the guys who accompanied me to those shows are all active musicians, the events gave us a lot to enjoy and discuss. Our show-related conversations covered everything from the expected – quality of performance, stage presence, sound system details, song selection, audience engagement – to more esoteric, artist-type banter such as the guitar models used, the effects boxes relied upon, subtleties of the sound mix, picking techniques, band cues, and so forth.

Do these common moments have any lasting value? More than I expected. For instance, a few years ago I flew to London and met a friend from Florida there to see Cream’s reunion concert at Royal Albert Hall. That friend and I have stayed close ever since then. Two years ago I flew to Chicago to see Clapton’s daylong Crossroads Festival, a showcase for Eric’s favorite guitarists. My drummer friend met me there and the experience has been a long-term point of discussion as well as fond memories. Last year I flew to New York to see the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame’s 25th Anniversary show, featuring Jeff Beck, U2, Springsteen, and others. Again, that night has been a topic of conversation with the friend who flew in to meet me there, a shared bit of music history that brings us closer together.

Shared experiences – and the special moments that flow from them – are a cornerstone of marriage. They are also crucial in the formation of healthy business partnerships, vital congregations, effective parachurch ministries, influential movements, and significant community groups. When people share a passion for something, many of the typical relational barriers are minimized or eliminated. Genuine bonding happens.

Most churches in America are struggling today – if not numerically, then transformationally. The lack of accountability in people’s lives is just a symptom of the real problem. That problem is the absence of dynamic, frequently-shared experiences – and not necessarily the kinds of experiences we orchestrate in the “big show” environment.

Should we continue to believe that the 30-second stand and greet module built into the Sunday service is a genuine or meaningful relational time? Does having 100 people gathered in a church building simultaneously singing predetermined songs at the back of someone else’s head really constitute a shared worship experience? Is church membership synonymous with belonging? Do we struggle to raise money for ministry because people are selfishly “cheating God” or because they do not feel ownership of the ministry due to having had so few times of genuine connection with God and people in that ministry? Is it wise to believe that because people attend a small group they have developed relationships that facilitate accountability? (Note: our survey decisively says “no.”)

Have you witnessed any creative ways of fostering real accountability for which there is valid evidence of positive results?

This is a superficial use of the data, ignoring the reasons for the apparent discrepancy between atheists and born agains. For instance, merely looking at the divorce numbers overlooks the fact that atheists have less divorce because they marry less often; they tend to substitute cohabitation for marriage, and those relationships have a shorter duration than marriages.

Another common error in such arguments is that of assuming that being Christian is synonymous with being morally perfect. As any thinking Christian will admit, we remain sinners – aware of our moral failings, convicted of our moral imperfections, and seeking to raise our game to a higher level. I am not aware of any mature Christians who claim moral superiority over other people – that would be judgmental, which itself is a moral failing – but know many who lament the fact that Americans (be they atheist, Christian, Muslim, Buddhist, Jewish or otherwise) are not living up to a higher moral standard.

Another dimension of the atheist arguments I have recently read is that there is no standard to live up to; morally, in that view, is a personal choice, based on their determination of what serves their needs best. To me, that’s really scary since that renders murder, rape and other atrocities morally viable if so determined by personal preference.

It is abundantly easy to identify social statistics that support any desired perspective. What’s harder is to offer a compelling, comprehensive and viable worldview that does not have God’s moral standards at the center.

His comment reminded me of some research we conducted among churches and pastors, examining longevity and impact. We found that church leaders have their greatest impact on the lives of congregants during years five through fourteen of their tenure at a church. Prior to year five they are clarifying, articulating and seeking buy-in of their vision. After year 14 they tend to get stuck in a routine that produces diminishing returns.

Some pastors remain fresh and effective after year 14, but they seem to be the exception to the rule. It is quite easy to become complacent and comfortable in the lead role after a decade and half in the same ministry. Leaders can often justify to constituents their continuation in a comfortable role, but Christian leaders must remember that they answer to the God who called them to leadership – and He will not be fooled.

Great leaders keep reinventing themselves, stimulating both themselves and their organization to reach new levels of impact. That means continually looking at the vision in new ways – coming up with a new vision, but adapting the organization to the ever-changing realities the ministry faces and implementing the vision in new ways and contexts.

But we also discovered that most leaders have a ceiling they must recognize for their leadership abilities, and work within those parameters. Certainly a great leader grows, but part of what makes them great is being realistic about themselves and responding intelligently and honestly to their limitations. Too many leaders engage in denial about their limitations, to the detriment of everyone involved. Great leaders seek situations in which their gifts and abilities are a perfect fit – and they are savvy enough to depart when their abilities are no longer a good match for the circumstances. Operating within one’s limitations is a sign of wisdom not defeat; staying beyond the time when one can add value is selfish and bad stewardship. Learning about these matters from some of the excellent research on the stages of organizational growth is helpful in this regard.

It wasn’t that Henri’s presentation was bad. He was simply more spiritually mature than I was – so much more mature that I was completely incapable of grasping his understanding of spirituality and the way that God transforms us.

Over the past six years I have been doing research on the spiritual transformation process. The middle two years were a black hole when little was intentionally accomplished on this project while I tried to sort out my frustration with the subject matter.

Upon returning to the project with a renewed sense of calling and energy two years ago, one of the tools the Lord provided was exposure to Henri Nouwen’s writing. After studying a few short pieces he wrote, I have read three of his books in the past two months and have truly enjoyed them. As I have come to realize, whatever his faults and quirks may have been – which he discussed quite openly – he was certainly a man motivated to know God more deeply and to become the Henri that God envisioned, not the Henri that Harvard, Yale, Notre Dame, the church, L’Arche Community, or even Henri envisioned. His journey with God is an interesting trek. I have learned a lot about God, myself, spirituality and ministry from his honest reflections.

If you have never read any of his work, try Spiritual Direction, which was written and compiled in 2006, a decade after Henri’s death, by several of his protégés. It will give you a broad introduction to his ministry, his heart, and his mind. He was a man of substantial wisdom. Let me know what you think of the book if you get the chance to read it.

The others I’ve read so far: Life of the Beloved and The Return of the Prodigal Son – have also been interesting. If you are a Nouwen fan, which of his books has been most helpful to you, and what value did it add to your life?