Prima Verba – Part 8

The Church is always under attack.

Unless you’ve been living in a cave or under a rock for a few decades, you’ve likely observed that a particular focus of the enemy’s attack as of late has been in the area of human sexuality:

• from the free love movement of the 60s and 70s…

• to the ever-increasing availability of pornography, first on VHS and DVD, and now on the internet…

• to today’s oxymoronic notions of so-called gay marriage and trans-genderism…

• to many other perversions of God’s created order and intent for humanity.

All of these have contributed greatly to the decline and disintegration of biblical and traditional marriage, as well as the erosion of personal purity.

Of course, in the final analysis, these attacks are all of a kind. That is, they are all attacks on the image of God in man and woman—something the devil hates.

And since, as I said above, the Church is always under attack, these attacks on culture are also attacks on the Church. There is no ecclesial community that remains unaffected by these assaults. Not in the West, anyway.

And such is the case for my former denomination. We too had to fight this battle. They are still fighting it, in fact. But unlike the disappointing outcomes in many other denominations, my former one has seen great victories for sexual morality and biblical marriage. I couldn’t be happier for them.

In various ways, I was a part of this battle for about two years, alongside a lot of good people who care deeply about faithfulness to the Lord and to his Word. Many of them had already been engaged in the battle for years when I joined it. Most of them still are.

And I think they would generally agree that while we chose that battle, the battle also chose us. For such a time as this, and all that. However, it was this battle that became the fourth wave of my burnout.

But let me back up a bit…

By the time 2021 had given way to 2022, the stress of the first and second waves was beginning to subside. A little. The third wave, bookended by the deaths of my in-laws, was still regularly crashing. But it also ebbed and flowed like the tide—not with the phases of the moon, but with the filing of paperwork and the waiting on responses. This was mostly in connection with Cami’s guardianship of her sister. It was in the midst of one of these ebbs that I entered the fray within my denomination.

Perhaps foolishly.

But before continuing, I have to risk boring you by defining a few relevant church polity terms. Please bear with me. This will make the next part of the story easier to understand.

Classis: a regional group of churches that conducts certain church-related business together two or three times a year. Churches send three officer delegates (pastors, elders, and deacons) to these meetings.

Synod: the week-long annual business meeting of the entire denomination. Each classis sends four delegates to synod—again, pastors, elders, and deacons.

Overture: A petition for synod to take some sort of action on some church-related matter. Think of an overture as a bill sent to synod by a classis. Synod is asked to pass the bill into law. Overtures typically start at the church level. A church submits an overture to a classis, and if the classis approves the overture, it is submitted to synod by that classis.

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In June of 2022, I attended my first and only synod meeting as a delegate, and I was appointed to an advisory committee that dealt almost exclusively with issues concerning the fight I’ve been referring to. I found myself deep in the trenches of that battle, and frankly, it was exhilarating.

I hate to say it like this, but it’s the truth: Fighting felt good.

Especially when so much was at stake, and when right and wrong were so clearly defined and easily identified. I found that engaging in this fight gave me focus and purpose—two things I’d felt were lacking in me for quite some time.

When I got back home after synod, I threw myself headlong into the conflict in whatever ways I could. This included writing overtures for our church to submit to classis. I wrote one for the September 2022 classis meeting, and another one for the following meeting in February of 2023. I found this to be a welcome distraction from the arhythmic crashes of the third wave. And as an added feature, it seemed to give me energy to weather those crashes. But writing an overture is only the beginning of the process.

When a church submits an overture to classis, a delegate from that church stands on the floor of classis as the presenter. People may make comments, ask questions, or raise objections. They speak in favor of or against the overture, which has come to the floor as a motion. The presenting delegate answers questions, makes clarifications, and accepts or rejects proposed ‘friendly’ amendments to the overture. I was the presenter for both of the overtures I wrote.

At the September 2022 meeting, there was a lot of discussion and debate, along with a few very strong objections. However, when it came time for us to vote, the overture passed by a large margin.

Now, I need to make something clear here. This was a good decision. I stood by the overture then, and I stand by it now. But when it passed, it wasn’t just good for our classis and our denomination. It was also good for me. I was largely unaware of this dynamic at the time, but I see it clearly now. After everything I’d been through, I needed a victory. And with the passing of that overture, I got one.

Energized as I was by this, it didn’t take me long to begin working on another overture for the February 2023 meeting. The same basic thing played out there, though with fewer objections. But after it passed, I didn’t feel infused with energy as I had before. Instead, I felt drained of energy. I remember barely having the stamina to simply stand and talk to people at the break and at lunch. I was beat.

What had happened?

At the time, I had no idea. But I do now.

Engaging in this battle to the degree that I did had provided me with a temporary rush of energy. A high, if you will. But it wasn’t sustainable. And as with any high, a crash inevitably follows. This is what happened to me in the process of presenting and defending that second overture. I crashed. What I thought had been fueling me with energy had actually been burning up what little reserves I had left.

That meeting of classis was the last time I was actively engaged in the human sexuality and gender battles that continued to rage in the denomination. I stayed alert to what was going on, of course. And I supported those who still had energy for the fight. But I left the fray. By the grace of God, I knew I had to, even if I didn’t fully understand why.

If you’ve watched my interview with Keith Nester, you’ve heard me say that there came a point at which I had no fight left in me. This was that point. It wasn’t long after this that Keith and I met for lunch, and I started reading the Catechism of the Catholic Church. But that’s a tale for another time.

Anyway…

By the time I bowed out of the battle, effectively ending the fourth wave, I still had a little over a year left to go in the third wave. But while that wave continued to slowly wear away at me, like actual waves eroding a shoreline, something wonderful was happening at the same time.

And that’s what I’ll turn my attention to in Part 9. Because it’s worth writing about.

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As always, thanks to everyone for your ongoing interest and support. As I publish this installment, it’s just one week from Thanksgiving 2025. I don’t know if I’ll finish Part 9 before the holiday, so let me take the opportunity now to wish you all a Happy Thanksgiving!

Additionally, I have some exciting opportunities coming up that I hope to be able to share with you here soon. But until then…

May the Lord bless and keep you all.

Gloria in excelsis Deo

Aaron