Weak Enough to Make a Difference

Strong and Weak: Embracing a Life of Love, Risk, and True Flourishing: Andy Crouch, Intervarsity Press, Downers Grove, IL, 2016.  192 pages, including charts, discussion guide, and notes.

Not long ago, our family watched the well-loved 1993 movie, The Sandlot. Judging by the way the audience echoed the script right along with the movie, this movie was indeed a familiar friend to many. It's described as a "coming-of-age" movie, one  in which 9 neighborhood boys grow together and grow up over the course of a summer spent at the neighborhood sandlot.  Early in the story, "Smalls" -- the new kid on the block-- is given the chance to play ball right along with the rest of the "in" kids. All well and good, except Smalls has never played much ball, and the first hit that flies his way is just that: a hit, right off his head and onto the ground. His marked inabilities leave the rest of the team quite literally rolling on the ground in laughter, and in utter embarrassment, Smalls leaves.


Anyone who has ever teetered on the edge of being accepted or rejected by a group of peers knows how high the stakes are for Smalls: will he have an opportunity for redemption? Or will he be doomed to live out his Middle School years in his bedroom, with only his erector set for company? Here's where Smalls' friend Benny "the Jet" Rodriguez saves the day. Benny, you see, is the star of the team. For everyone else on the sandlot, baseball was a sport; for Benny, it was life. So, Benny hangs his reputation, his credibility, and all the social capital to his name on the line and vouches for Smalls to have one more chance. And then, positioning Smalls in just the right spot in the outfield, and even extending his glove for him, Benny simply tells Smalls to stand there and wait. Stepping up to bat, Benny hits the incoming pitch with the precision of a professional, right into the waiting glove dutifully held there by Smalls -- who now appears as though he has just made the catch of a lifetime. Instantly, the tone of the neighborhood changes. No longer mocking, the boys now shout their approval. Benny "the Jet" Rodriguez risked his position in the group, and used his power, in order to better the well-being of another.

And that brings me to Andy Crouch's book, Strong and the Weak: Embracing a Life of Love, Risk, and True Flourishing. Crouch's thesis is simple: human beings are meant to flourish, but in many cases, we do not. Instead, we buy into worldly ideas of what "the good life" looks like, and we trade in true flourishing for a counterfeit that actually depletes us. He invites the reader to rediscover what it means to flourish -- what it means "to live fully, in these transitory lives on this fragile earth, in such a way that we somehow participate in the glory of God." Easier said than done, perhaps, but thus his book. Crouch proposes that true flourishing is possible, but for a person to flourish, it "requires us to embrace both authority and vulnerability, both capacity and frailty, even, at least in this broken world, both life and death." In other words, flourishing -- in the Christian way of looking at the world -- is a paradoxical approach in which a person is willing to embrace weakness and vulnerability -- they will be willing to use whatever power they may have, not for their own gain, but ultimately for the good of the broader community, much the way that Benny "The Jet" Rodriguez used his power for the good of Smalls.

Crouch's 2x2 grid

Central to understanding Crouch's book is a 2x2 grid, comprised of a vertical and a horizontal axis, thus making four quadrants. Imagine, on the vertical quadrant a spectrum of authority -- which Crouch defines as "the capacity for meaningful action." The level of authority a person possesses, then, isn't related to a title, or a position (indeed, as Crouch will point out, many who possess such things actually lack  genuine authority), but are the talents, abilities, relational capital, and other such things that allow a person to influence the world around them A teacher has authority to the degree that they can influence the hearts and minds of his students -- but so does a sculptor who (although may not interact nearly as much with other people) is able to use her abilities to create a sculpture that beautifies the world. A business owner has authority to the degree that they offer a product or a service that serves the needs of the greater community, provides employment for others, and manages those employees -- and so on.

Along the horizontal axis, picture the word, "Vulnerability." Vulnerability, Crouch is quick to point out, is not simply the readiness to share the more personal parts of a person's life, but rather, Crouch defines it as "exposure to meaningful risk." That is, to be vulnerable "is to be exposed to the possibility of loss -- and not just the loss of material things ,but the loss of self." Benny was vulnerable when he risked his reputation with his peers in order to give Smalls a second chance. A hiring manager is vulnerable when she hires a person with a prison record in order to give that person the opportunity at a second chance. A business owner is vulnerable in that they may offer a valuable good or service -- but they may also lose their business when the market fails. Yet vulnerability also happens when a husband reveals his true self to his wife, and risks rejection or indifference along the way; one friend becomes vulnerable when she confesses her sin to another and asks for accountability -- and so on.

This quadrant presents four models of living (see the diagram, above) -- and only one of them allows for true flourishing. Flourishing, according to Crouch, is what happens when those who have high levels of authority embrace high levels of vulnerability. In other words, the people who flourish are those who have the capital (social capital, position, talent, education, etc.) to make a significant difference, and then use that capital for the good of others, even when that means they pay a costly price in the process. More on that in a moment.

Meanwhile, there are three other models of living -- models that may or may not appear to be flourishing but are in fact life-taking. Those who suffer have a high exposure to risk -- they experience great loss: loss of health, loss of relationship, loss of influence, and yet they often have little ability to change their circumstances. A person on hospice, for example, copes with the loss of many things -- but try as they might, they lack the ability and the authority to alter their situation. This is suffering: high vulnerability, low authority. Crouch's argues that worse than suffering is what he terms "withdrawing" -- a way of living in which a person has or seeks no real authority, and they will not or cannot embrace any form of meaningful risk. In other words, it is always playing it safe -- emotionally, relationally, physically, and the like.  Finally, Crouch illustrates that authority can be abused -- those who have a high ability to exert their influence on others, yet refuse to embrace any form of vulnerability will exploit others. Idolatry, he points out, is our enslavement to something that promises great authority, divorced from weakness, and this condition is endemic to the human race. "In the long run," Crouch warns, "unless you are delivered by a miracle of grace, you will find that the very thing that promised authority without vulnerability has betrayed you, handing you over to the depths of suffering -- vulnerability without authority."

So, the million dollar question, then, is how do we arrive at that place where we embrace both authority and vulnerability? Lest we think this is a simple adjustment in our mental attitude, Crouch insists that two major, and difficult things must happen. First, he outlines how those in authority must learn to bear what he calls "Hidden vulnerabilities." Neither the company, nor the CEO, for example, flourish when the leader shares every potential threat to the business or uncertainty about the future with every employee. Pastors must exercise great care not to share every burden of their flock with the whole congregation.  Benny "the Jet" Rodriguez could not have allowed Smalls to flourish had he broadcast every reservation he had about Smalls' lack of baseball abilities. And so, Crouch maintains, "if we want to be agents of transformation in the world, we must be willing to bear the burden of visible authority with hidden vulnerability."

But Crouch goes on to show how flourishing demands suffering. Crouch succeeds here as he illustrates how successfully exercising authority and influence in our world does not happen in spite of suffering, but because of it. To use Crouch's language, "the greatest paradox of flourishing is found on the other side of suffering: specifically our willingness to actively embrace suffering." Hear that carefully. Those of us who wish to flourish as agents of change in our world -- those of us who want to live the life we were created for, those of us who want to come alive in the deepest sense of the world -- can only do so by embracing suffering. We must know what it is, concludes Crouch, to be vulnerable and yet unable to do anything to fix it. We must be experience both risk and loss, without authority. Doing this requires at least two disciplines. First, says Crouch, we must be willing to die. That is, we must be honest about the frailty of life, and live in tune with that reality -- namely in such a way that we are ready to die at any time. Second, we must practice death in a spiritual sense through the discipline of confessing our sin. To be weak demands that we are honest with ourselves and others about our own failures, and that we strive to put to death these habits and practices that are sinful and destructive. In embracing our hidden vulnerabilities, and in walking the road of suffering, Crouch's thesis comes clear: we will move "up and to the right" into the life that welcomes great risk, but is also rife with the potential for great change in the lives of others -- in other words, a life of great flourishing.

Crouch largely succeeds in making his case -- and gives the reader much to wrestle with and reflect upon along the way. A number of questions come to mind that may be worth some further thought.  What is it, for example, that makes these two traits -- authority and vulnerability -- the requisites for flourishing? Could not other qualities be selected -- wisdom and intelligence, for example; or a love for justice and a love for mercy? Incidentally, I'm convinced that Crouch makes a solid case for his conclusion that both authority and vulnerability that are key for flourishing -- but I wanted to see a bit more of his work in arriving at that conclusion.

Another weakness -- if you'll excuse the pun -- could, with a proper perspective, also be viewed as a strength. Initially, I was looking for clarity on just where these ideas apply. Is this a book that is targeted at a CEO for a Fortune 500? Is the "vulnerability" that Crouch invites us to embrace a discipline meant for Christians in a Small Group setting?  I wasn't always clear -- but it began to dawn on me that I was looking too narrow. Crouch is not so much prescribing methods as he is expositing a worldview.  Looking back, it seems obvious -- he is giving us a way to look at the world that can be used to better approach everything from marriage, to church life, to your role in your neighborhood, to your profession, to your parenting style, to your...

This blog is all about the way in which faith and culture intersect -- that is, how do we, as Christians, approach the broader culture? Crouch gives us a solid answer here.  Early in the book, Crouch quotes Psalm 8 -- a Psalm that beautifully describes the glory of God's good world, as well as the role that human beings have in this world. And, those familiar with the Psalm will recall, this role is one of dominion. In other words, authority is something all human beings have, from God, as a part of their divinely-given mission in this world. As Christians, we are tasked with the authority and the mandate to cultivate this world -- to take the raw material of the created world and to form it, shape it, develop it, and draw out all the potential in it in ways that enhance what God has already made. We exercise our authority in our relationships -- in parenting, in marriage (remember though, how Crouch defines "Authority"), in our workplaces, and Crouch is revealing to us that this authority only leads to flourishing when it is exercised with great vulnerability. As Christians, our relationship with culture, then, must be one of both authority and vulnerability, if we and it are to flourish.

So, what might it look like? As the owner of a small business, for example, you might take the risk of hiring a person transitioning from prison back into mainstream society. You might find ways to share the vulnerabilities in your community -- volunteering, for example, to mentor at-risk youth, or becoming a foster parent. Your parenting style will not be a domineering style, but one in which you are open with your children (appropriately, of course -- remembering Crouch's guidance about bearing hidden vulnerabilities) about your own struggles and failures. In your marriage, you will take the risk of exposing yourself to your spouse in your marriage -- rather than hiding behind the facades we so often maintain. It goes on.

But the joy is that in doing this, we not only flourish, but we cause others to flourish as well, and as we make this our practice, the communities of which we are a part begin to flourish. There was a look on Smalls' face the moment he caught the ball -- a mixture of disbelief, and relief, and perhaps even joy as he realized that "his" catch meant that all would be well. But there was also a look on Benny's face -- a joy evident there as well, a joy that came from the knowledge that he had taken the risk and put his reputation on the line, using his authority for the good of the neighborhood. That's the joy of human flourishing.