Replacing William Barber

A Wonderful Opportunity Turned Sour... Then Wonderful Again.

Imposter Syndrome is a slick and twisted companion, because it presents itself as a wonderful opportunity perfectly suited to you, only to mock you as insufficient and unqualified after you’ve accepted the offer.

In August 2021, while minding my own business and doing sermon prep, my phone rang. It was the Dean and my former New Testament professor, Dr. David Watson, from United Theological Seminary.

“I know this is short notice,” he said. “In two days, I need you to come and speak during a plenary session for our doctoral students. William Barber, you might know him, had to back out at the last moment.”

Since Watson is someone I admire, I happily said yes. He told me the subject was racism and the church, or something like that. Since this was in the midst of another racial uprising in the country, I had already given a few talks on the subject and felt prepared enough to do another one.

Over the next day and a half, I prepared my comments for the context I’d be in. What I didn’t do was look up the name William Barber. When Watson said, “you might know him,” I assumed that he was another United Methodist pastor who had a sickness in the family, a funeral, or some other important church obligation pop up. In other words, someone I had seen before but couldn’t put a face to the name.

I arrived at the conference center in Dayton, OH, and immediately got the sense that something was off. There was a bit more energy than I was expecting. Then I began hearing people whispering about William Barber not coming anymore. So I did what anybody would do, I whipped out my phone, punched “William Barber” into the search box, and pressed enter.

Imposter syndrome hit me like a fear-seeking missile!

I immediately found Watson. “Why didn’t you tell me that it was William Barber?” I said.

“I did tell you,” he said.

“You said it like it was a William Barber from some United Methodist in No Name, Ohio. You didn’t tell me it was ‘regularly called to speak in front of Congress,’ William Barber.” I anxiously said.

There was nothing I could do about it at this point. There was only 30 minutes until my address.

Dr. Watson and another good friend, Dr. Scott Kisker, prayed for me, then we walked into an auditorium packed with people! I knew doctoral week was filled with people from all over the country, but I sensed that there were more people there that morning. Perhaps they came to hear a prominent speaker address them!

As we were sitting there, the announcement was made, confirming everyone's fears.

“Unfortunately, Rev. Barber couldn’t be with us today; he got called to testify before Congress, and I think that’s a worthy reason for an excused absence. He was gracious enough to send a video that we will watch later. In the meantime, we are blessed to have an alum of the United Theological Seminary, Rev. Meshach Kanyion…”

I’m sure my mind dubbed in the sound of groans. Christians wouldn’t groan audibly, right?

After that announcement, I had about 10 minutes before it was my turn to speak, so I went to the bathroom to pray and splash some water on my face. As I was drying my face and muttering a prayer, “God, HELP ME!”, a disappointed man came in.

“I came all this way to hear Barber,” he said. “Not no Meshach or whatever his name is.”

I looked at him and said, “I know exactly how you feel, brother.” Then I walked back into the room to deliver my speech. (I wonder how that guy felt when he came back in the room and saw me on the stage?)

The talk went well. After I began, I realized that public speaking is public speaking. You can watch the video here and judge for yourself:

My problem continued after my talk concluded. This wasn’t a sermon, but a presentation. And being a presentation, there was an opportunity for Q&A time. With it being such a contentious topic, I found myself immediately on edge, prepared to defend myself against people who took issue with my stance before they even uttered a word.

Some suggested that I was too lenient on racists, and failed to properly acknowledge the pain their victims experienced. Others asked questions that were really just opportunities for them to make a speech. Still more asked questions related to the justice of God. I think I responded well enough, but I was on the defensive the entire time. This led to some of my responses having bite to them, and that bothered me.

I tend to be a very reflective person, wanting to understand my behaviors so that I can improve. Over the next few days, I pondered and pondered, with no eureka moment. So I shared the experience with a few friends, and one, in particular, led me to see the reasons for my actions immediately by asking one thought-provoking question:

“What were you afraid of?” he asked.

At first, I balked at the notion. Nobody readily admits being fearful. But after some silence, I realized that I was afraid.

“I guess I didn’t want people to think I didn’t belong up there, that I didn’t know what I was talking about. I didn’t want the gap between me and a William Barber to be so evident.” I said.

This is classic imposter syndrome. It is something that everyone has experienced at one point or another. I took some time to reflect on why it hit me so hard, and why I became so defensive during the Q&A.

A Theological Perspective

Imposter syndrome forces one to look at ones own self and make a value judgment. When I got the call at first, I was elated because others thought me worthy of the opportunity. I felt honored by this. I even allowed myself to dream about what could happen if I killed it! Speaking tour? Maybe.

But when I found out how big the opportunity was, I saw myself as insufficient. All thoughts of opportunity gained turned into the potential of reputation ruined. In short, I was standing on my identity as a pastor, public speaker, theologian, etc.

As Christians, we are not called to stand on anything other than Christ, the Solid Rock. We are commanded to live from Him as our foundation and find our identity in Him. This leads to a life that is saturated in love, because it is safe and accepted by God; thus freeing us to serve people great and small alike.

Elijah is my favorite model of this. When standing before King Ahab, he said, “As the Lord, the God of Israel lives, before whom I stand, there shall be neither dew nor rain these years, except by my word” (1 Kings 17:1).

Because he regularly stood before God, he could easily stand before the king. That day I stood upon my reputation and forgot about my standing in God.

Holy Curiousity and Generous Assumptions

My fear led me to experience the Q&A portion as a battle, rather than an opportunity to learn and help. Because I was afraid of being found out, I embodied a defensive stance towards my interlocutors (I definitely used this word to sound smart). Instead of answering their question, or even seeking to understand, I doubled down on what I said earlier.

If my standing were in God — beloved and safe — I would’ve felt free to be curious about each questioner. Before responding, I would’ve made sure I understood, and I would’ve seen myself in a fortunate position to help them.

This even applies to those on the attack, with God as my foundation, I could have interpreted their zeal as passion for the subject and perhaps offered something that could help them along the way.

Conclusion

Living from our divine identity empowers us to overcome the fear of inadequacy. Just as Elijah stood confidently before King Ahab, because he had been standing before God, we too can stand before anyone, knowing 1) that we belong and 2) that we have been uniquely equipped to make a valuable contribution and bear witness to our faith.

Moreover, embracing curiosity and making generous assumptions in our interactions can transform how we perceive challenges. Instead of feeling defensive, we can approach questions with an open mind, eager to engage with others and learn from their perspectives.

The experience was humbling — and I really didn’t do a bad job 😇 —, but it taught me valuable lessons about self-assurance and fear. Every opportunity, whether big or small, is a chance to grow in Christlikeness.

I am grateful for the opportunity and the growth it provided. Jesus will use every experience to teach us, and I look forward to each new lesson life throws my way.

PS: William Barber, if you’re reading this, I’d be happy to stand in at any time.