A short rant about a lawyer, a pastor, and being a woman

The other day I was in a serious meeting with professionals that I had just met.  I was being asked some significant questions regarding my work and the mission of my university in my role as dean of spiritual life. At the end of the conversation/interview, the attorney who was present (a man probably mid-forties), said nothing about what I said or responded to my content, but instead said,

"Can you talk without using your hands?"  He laughed, and I laughed (awkwardly), and I tried to make a joke about "no, I can't, it's impossible...hahahaha).

Truly, I do use my hands A LOT when I talk.

At first, I wanted to laugh this off and let it go, but I have found myself growing more angry over this encounter.   What he meant as a shallow joke (perhaps even trying to be warm and friendly in some misguided way), came off as sexist and belittling to me.

I am very aware that if I was a man in that interview, it would be highly unlikely that anything that I did with my hands, my voice, my appearance would be drawn attention to in such a way.  This attorney would most likely not have remarked regarding any mannerism of the provost, president, or other senior leader that he was interviewing.   Can you imagine him saying to a male senior leader (without responding to his content), "So, you use your hands a lot? So, you cough a lot? So, you kind of close your eyes in an odd way when you talk? I notice that you talk in a very low voice?".

No.

Over the years, I have been counseled that I have to lower my voice, make my hand motions slower and wider, not nod so much, not be so positive, not be so friendly, smile less, not be so authentic/honest,  not admit when I am wrong so quickly...etc, etc, to be taken seriously as a leader.  Essentially, be more masculine (sorry to you smiling, friendly males that use hand motions).

Essence of Leadership

"Prayer is not merely a condition for compassionate leadership: it is its essence.
As long as we keep from speaking about prayer as a way to restore ourselves from spiritual fatigue, or worse, to recharge our batteries, we have reduced prayer to a method and compassion to a commodity.
Reminding each other that we should not forget to pray in our busy lives is like reminding each other to keep breathing!
Prayer is the essence of the spiritual life without which all ministry loses its meaning."


--H. Nouwen--from "Compassion: The Core of Spiritual Leadership"

Falling Upwards

Richard Rohr's Falling Upwards has caught my attention.  Rohr describes the first half of life as the season in which you are creating the container of your life.  You concentrate on the shape and appearance of the container--its image, and functionality.  What are the external motivations in life that you are responding to, what are the things you put into place to create the life that you think that you want, how will others know you and perceive you externally?

In the second half of life, you turn your attention to what the container of your life is holding.  At that process is disorienting and redefining.  It often involves turns the container over and shaking all of the contents on the table and sorting them for what you really want in the container and what you don't.  

This process is happening in my life.  I describe it this way.  For a long time in life, I was very motivated by external gold stars.  I knew deeply at my core what those stars were that I wanted and they were also important to me as a person and to my unfolding sense of spiritual call.  I wasn't just externally motivated, but certainly there were certain people and things that I wanted to accomplish as goals that I set for myself (many of these goals I might not even have articulated they were so much a part of the fabric of myself).  

But now, I find that there are few gold stars that I am that interested in finding or earning.  I suppose for some of you, I am very late to the table on this.  You left behind external motivations when you were 25. But all I have is my own story, so here it is.  Over the last few years, increasingly what matters most to me is my own internalized passions.  Many of the externals and internals are integrated, but some are not.

It is a different think to look ahead at the second half of life and realize that there are no stars to collect or work for unless they are in my heart. As a goal oriented person, this is a little shattering. 

It means that my Pleaser and Performer are slowly leaving me...and that is what I have worked for...but now that they are departing, I wonder what will be my motivations? What will be the fuel that moves me forward or deeper?

Now, don't get all know-it-all on me and say something easy and simple like: "God will provide."  I know that God is up to something.  But I am so much more about the process than the destination. So let me have my process and my journey and my angst. 

It's the labor pains of the Self continuing to be born in me and God's image continuing to be developed and grown.  

when preaching

When preaching




words pounding like blood through veins
message: conceived, alive, with pulse
one, two, three--go!

Begin. Smile. Breathe.

be confident, they can smell fear.

words coming forth, dancing together
weaving in and out and around.

Holy Spirit, Speak.

catching breath, where am i going?
i know this, it's inside of me.
i lose sight of it for a moment,
it takes on its own life,
moves its own direction.

catch an eye. one is sleeping, another is with me.
faces respond, some cloud over, some stare, some nod.

i see the end of the way.
my voice raises...steady, steady, slower.

the message is born.
listen for the first gasp of new life

Holy Spirit, Speak.

i step away
pretend to pray
skin crawling with vulnerability.

Holy Spirit, Speak


to me,
please.

Trust the path.

A few days ago I introduced the labyrinth to a group.   Only one had experience with a labyrinth before.  We sat on the warm stone in the early morning, at the center of the labyrinth, talking about the practice of walking and praying--the kinetic spirituality of integrating movement and prayer. Labyrinths are meaningful to me because almost without fail, when I walk one, I leave centered, more clear, heart open to God in a way that I was not when I entered.  It is sacred movement for me.

As I explained a way to walk a labyrinth, one woman asked a series of questions "Where does it begin?", "What if I can't figure out what to do?", "How will I know when it is done?".  I responded, "You can trust the path. You don't have to figure it out.  The path will take you to the center, then, retrace your steps, the path will take you back out. You can't get lost and you don't have to worry about the path.  Trust the path to take you into the heart of God."

Awhile later, I walked the path as well, listening to the screeching voices inside of me begin to relent a bit.  Listening for that shift when my internal voices eventually part, making way for the Spirit to speak. It doesn't always happen fully.  But it almost always happens a bit. 

This day as I walked, the Holy Spirit spoke to me in my own words, "Trust the path."  

All summer I have been doing what I do really well:  Analyzing.  Discerning, oh, I mean WORRYING.  Dwelling.  Wondering. Questioning.  Some of it is good.  I do contemplate life.  Am I living congruently? Am I living out of my shadow or in the Light?  What are the questions that go unheard during the busy year that need attending to?  But there is also the ongoing nagging  and stressing and anxiety and over-thinking, and tossing and turning that happens as well.   Too often my contemplating is simply dressed-up worrying.

Is my daughter going to the "right" school for her?

How busy is the upcoming year going to be?

How do I want to spend the next decade of my life? (for real, this has been my overall question of the summer)

Who are the people that make up my inner circle? How can I be more intentional?

What is the state of our marriage? What needs attending to?

How can I beat the constant "edge of chaos"living that pulls at my life?

Is there a way to complete my dissertation and be the pastor/mother/wife/friend/you-name-it I want to be?

Can I be content with one child? 

Ok, see what I mean.  Some discerning, A LOT of worrying.

And that day and this year, the word the Spirit has for me is "Trust the path.  You can trust the path you are on, Sarah.  I will use it to bring all that you need to grow to maturity.  I will use everything, every relationship, and every experience to make you become who you are created to be.  Focus attention on the path.  Love the people that cross your path.  Respond to the opportunities that come into your path.  Follow through on the commitments that We have made together on this path. We have chosen this path together, you and Me.  This is Our path, not just yours.  Trust Me that the path will bring into your life all you need for abundant life and ministry."

I felt a sense of relief.  The Holy Spirit is my life's guide, not me.  Generously and with love, the Holy Spirit gives the life given over to the Spirit back to me, to share together in ministry.  The Holy Spirit is my Guide, Leader, and Wisdom, yet, amazingly, trusts me enough to walk with me, beside me, partnering in my life.  

Will I trust the path that God and I are on together?  This path will for surely take me into the heart of God.  My life belongs to God, and God will not squander me or this path.  

Trust the path is lingering with me as I move into this academic year. 

There are still decisions to be made, discerning to happen, yet, my life is Sacred. It belongs to God. God and I share this journey.  We are in this together. I will trust the path to take me to the center of God's heart and there is no turn in the path that will be squandered. 

Being Real, from the Velveteen Rabbit

to become Real

A fb friend posted this today, and it reminds me about the power of being Real, Vulnerable, Loved.
And that sometimes it hurts.  But it always brings beauty.



"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long,

 long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."



"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.



"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."



"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"



"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in your joints and very shabby.



 But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't

understand."



Velveteen Rabbit,  by William Nicholson

Glittering Images--the imprisoned true self

I am re-reading The Glittering Images by Susan Howatch. This piece on the false self/true self won't let me go it is so speaks to the condition of my soul as I recognize more of the false self in me. This work of false/self true self is at the crux of spiritual direction--and is the place I find many conversations around (p.235).

"You're not the villain of this story, Charles," said Darrow [the spiritual director].  "You're the victim. It's the glittering image [false self] who should be locked up in jail."
There was a long silence while I struggled to adjust to this new perspective on my identity, but eventually Darrow added: "I'm beginning to feel very, very sorry for this true self of yours.  Terrible things happen to him but no one knows because he's not allowed to talk about them.  He's cut off, isolated by that ruthless jailer [the false self].  He only ever escapes when the jailer has had too much to drink and then he's always so aggressive that he seems thoroughly beyond [the boundary line], but no wonder he's so angry! He's been imprisoned on a false charge by a jailer who should himself by behind bars.  Tell me, can you really feel no sympathy for him in his predicament?"
...
"Yes, but what would my sympathy do?"

"All the good in the world because if you regard him with sympathy instead of horror then a different image will begin to appear in the mirror.  Love and compassion breed understanding and forgiveness, and once a man's understood himself sufficiently to forgive himself for his mistakes, the unfitness is made whole, the unworthiness is redeemed...We want to restore your belief in your own worth so that you can find the courage to set aside the glittering image and triumph over this tyrant who's tormented you for so long."

Ash Wednesday: Frail & Glorious

Yesterday I was able to make the sign of the cross with ash on a few foreheads and say these words:

“From dust you have come, to dust you will return.

Repent and believe the Good News.

In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.”

As my fingers made the shape of the cross out of ash, I am reminded of our human condition: frail and glorious [from Macrina Wiederhehr—A Tree Full of Angels].

My human condition: dust…..

I am frail and small.  And yet within me is the glorious God who breathes life into me that is eternal.

My life is glorious now as I am living in heaven here on earth. Not because it’s easy or perfect, but because I am in the eternal heart of Christ.

My life is dust, but for Christ.

Frail and glorious.

Small and eternal.

Forgotten and begotten.

Dead and alive.

You can follow my lenten posts at SoulMidwife.

Theology of the Land and Being Known

Toward a Theology of the Land...

Certainly the Hebrew people connected hope and redemption with living in the land. Either they were journeying to a land yet revealed to them (Abram) or enroute to the Promised Land, or trying to find ways to keep their land from the Assyrians--whatever it is, land was significant to them. It identified who they were as a people and where their home was. Jesus redefined the Israelite ideas of land.  It's not where you live that defines you, it is how you live. It's not who is in the ancestral line of the twelve tribes, it's who your heart is in line with.  Family and place is redefined as belonging to the family of God. A family that is not specific to a physical place or destination.

And yet, our relationship with the land is still significant in other ways. God gave us responsibility over the earth--to care for it and oversee its use.  We have failed this in many ways. Many people speak into the Christian community today calling us to take up this God-given responsibility and delight and be earth-keepers.  I am inspired by people in my life who are planting gardens, sharing food, getting their hands in the dirt, and restoring in active ways their connection to the land.

Others deep concern is that our land does not belong to us.  As white North Americans we have taken it from the First Nations people.  How can we ever move fully in the direction of God when this is unreconciled?

We also spiritually come to understand our new places in God as journeying to a new land or place.  Henri Nouwn talks deeply of the "new country".  You can see one of his reflections here: Soul Midwife: New Country.

But there is also another understanding of place.  It's the place of our physical home that intersects with our spiritual home: our community. Nouwen calls community the place where we celebrate and where we seek forgiveness.  It's the real flesh and blood place that we work out who we are as a children of God.  Without a community of people that knows us over time, no one knows us. And to be known is one of the greatest thing about being human.  It's also terrifying and humbling and hard work.  Because as soon as we are known, then the mask is off.  Our real, authentic soul is revealed with all of its blemishes and cancers.  Also, when we are not known, it is easier for people to idolize us and glamorize us.  It is easier to be a leader from a distance or to be a "friend" from a far.  When things don't get messy because we are at a distance, it is easier to stay in relationship.  But it's only pseudo-relationship because we are not known, nor do we really know.  I think that our Christian culture is often built on perceptions, but not real knowing.

I have a strong desire to be known in this place.  Sometimes it overwhelms me because it is so painful to not be known and to be lonely.  Other times I want to shrink back because when someone starts to know me I am not sure if what is revealed is what I want it to be.  I am overwhelmed with not being who I want to be.  Yet, what choice is there?  To walk in the land of the upright and just, I must show up, be present, and be real.  That is the only way to be known.

This terrified me 20 years ago, and it still does.  But perhaps less, and perhaps differently.

Provers 2: 20 says:  Therefore, walk in the way of the good, and keep to the paths of the just.  For the upright will abide in the land, and the innocent will remain in it, but the wicked will be cut off from the land, and the treacherous will be rooted out of it. 


The path of the good and the just, the path of the innocent is only found by walking alongside in community. No one abides in the land without knowing and being known.  It is one of our greatest, most humbling and terrifying ways to abide.  That's my take on theology of the land: place, knowingness, community--it at the heart of what it means to live the spiritual life.

Today, I wonder for you and for me--what is the step forward into the Land of the Known? What is the path to walk on is that is the path of the just and the way of the good?  How can you know it without knowing?  Who knows you? And what do you do with the loneliness that overwhelms you at times?

Learning wisdom from all ages

Let the wise also hear and gain in learning, and the discerning acquire skill, to understand a proverb and a figure, the words of the wise and their riddles. Prov. 1: 5-6

Learning is not just for the young and the simple (Prov. 1: 4), but for the wise and the discerning. The pursuit of wisdom is a lifelong apprenticeship to a wisdom community. And wisdom is not always straightforward and clear--sometimes it is a riddle of the circuitous path.

Who are you learning from today or in the past? I think that we need teachers who are 20 years younger and 20 years older and everything in between.  Actually, our teachers defy age and experience. A child becomes the person of God for us in the intersection of kairos and chronos. An elderly person that we have a moment of connection with become a vessel of God of wisdom in our life.

I am celebrating some of my teachers of life today: Clint, Koby, Anthony, MaryKate, Rusty, Sara, Andrew, Kayin, Andrea, Madi, Allie, Kim, Liz, Phileena, Chris, Steve, Jill, Amy, Doug, Shel, Miss, Krissi...so many more.  I am glad to be apprenticed to such a large, diverse, and beautiful wisdom community.  Hopefully, I lean toward the side of the wise and not the fool, and I look forward to growing deeper in wisdom as I grow in age chronologically.

To pastor a King: The King's Speech

Last night my friend Koby and I went to see The King's Speech and I woke up this morning with it still playing in mind.  A friend suggested to me before that this film is an example of what the Church is or could be, and I think that truly it is.  And certainly it is how I understand the Church in my own life.
In this historical account, an uneducated speech therapist with unorthodox methods coaches the future (and then current) King of England in the 1930s.  The relationship between the future King--the Duke of York, Albert--and his speech therapist is nothing short of magnificent.
Bertie (as the future King is called in the film) at first wants only to fix his stammer--simply change the mechanics of his speech.  The therapist--Lionel--insists that to cure Bertie they must do the work behind the stammer--addressing Bertie's fear, anger and the abandonment he experienced as a child. What entails is the real work of a soul in the process of change and fighting it and every step. As friendship emerges between these two men, both of them are transformed.  Both find voice that they did not fully have before.
Lionel was essentially Bertie's spiritual director.  As a spiritual director, Lionel walked alongside Bertie through darkness and rejection, continuing to open windows of truth and grace in his life.  Lionel heard the booming voice of a soul behind Bertie's stammering words and called it out of him.
This is the work of a spiritual director: to call out the hidden self from the deep place in another, to listen to and name the voice deep inside the other that is perhaps only a whisper at the moment.
Lionel gives Bertie the gift of Belovedness.

I have a few people who have done this kind of work in my life. My friend Koby is one of those people. Spiritual friends, spiritual directors, true pastors, and real mentors are precious gifts in life.  When you divinely stumble on someone who calls out the Belovedness in you, pushes you to hear the sound of your own voice, and teaches you to express your anger and move through it, you have found a person of God for you.
And amazingly, God works through people who may not even know what it is to be a follower of Christ.  And doing the work of calling out Belovedness in another, enables that person to begin to receive it more as well. The work of God begets the work of God. Giving Belovedness away allows you to receive more Belovedness.  This is our spiritual work as the Church.

Housekeeping God or the God Who Searches

In Luke 15, there are three losses.

The Shepherd loses a sheep.

The Woman loses a coin.

The Father loses a son.

The shepherd leaves the 99 sheep behind in the wilderness, and goes out and searches for the lost lamb until it is found.  When he finds it, he rejoices with his neighbors.

The woman has 10 precious silver coins.  She loses one, and searches the house for it.  Finding it after much effort, she calls her neighbors together and says "rejoice with me, for what I have lost, I have found."

The father grieves the loss of one of his two sons. He waits for the return of the younger son and when he catches a glimpse of the boy, he runs to him, throws his arms around him, and begins to celebrate.  The son was lost and now is found!

God as a shepherd seeks out the lost sheep.

God as a woman sweeps her house and searches for the lost coin.

God as a father waits for his son, runs to him and throws his arms around him, finds the one who has been lost.

I am not a shepherd or a father, nor have a I lost a sheep or a son.  But I certainly am a woman who sweeps her house, looks for lost keys and phone rechargers, and coins deep in the sofa. 

And so I get to live into this story almost every day, because almost every day something is lost.  This is the parable that I can step inside of and understand in a practical, daily way.

I love this image of God as a housekeeper.  I can imagine God with a apron and a broom, putting things into order in my house, just as the Creator puts things into order in my life; sweeping up the mess, finding the lost parts of me, and brewing some coffee to wake up my soul. 

I also get to do this work of God as I search out the lost people in the cracks of the world and get to be part of the embrace, the homecoming,  and the finding.   All of us are looking for Home.   God the Holy Housekeeper, the Good Shepherd, the Embracing Father  seeks us out and brings us home. It's the work of the Creator God, and it's the work that we too step into. As women and men keeping house and keeping souls.

Crucible of Leadership (i.e. Change)

reposted from Aug. 1, 2011

“The ability to extract wisdom from experience is a skill honed in the crucible”. (p. 109, Leading for a Lifetime by Bennis).

“Seeking God in the crucible of ministry”. (from the tagline of Strengthening the Soul of Your Leadership by Barton).

This summer the word crucible has been floating around me– in a conference seminar I attended, in the Barton’s book about soul leadership, in scripture (Prov. 27:21–we are tested in the crucible of the words say about us) and in my own spirit.

A crucible is defined as:

1. A vessel made of a refractory substance such as graphite or porcelain, used for melting and calcining materials at high temperatures.

2. A severe test, as of patience or belief; a trial.

3. A place, time, or situation characterized by the confluence of powerful intellectual, social, economic, or political forces

Leadership and intensity go hand in hand. I am learning (which is super obvious on further reflection) that leadership is not about if you find yourself in a crucible, but is about the constant crucibles of heat, testing, social and political forces, and my own emotional and spiritual tensions.  And as I look to the future, I am growing in awarness that as I grow in leadership, the stakes only go up, the crucibles only become more intense.

In its the crucibles of ministry and leadership that you change.  Crucibles can become defining moments of transformation that we most likely on realize after time has given us the opportunity to see the experience as a whole.  According to Bennis and Thomas in their book Leading for a Lifetime, what sets people a part is how they respond to the crucible.  The ability to emerge from a time of crucible and to learn from it and to grow in wisdom and experience does not happen to everyone, or perhaps to many.  The practice of a reflective life is to find meaning from the experience and to integrate that meaning into purpose and vision.

Bennis and Thomas call this our adaptive capcacity. Our ability to change.

Ruth Haley Barton speaks of going to the bottom of our souls–to the place beneath the surface where our demons lurk.  Crucibles of ministry and leadership bring forth our demons more than perhaps anything else in our lives.  Barton says that in order to become who we are created to be as leaders, we must give space and attention to our shadow sides.  We must look our jealousy, our fear, our anxiety dead in the face.  We even embrace the reality of ourselves, knowing that we–just as we are–are precious to God, in both our shadow and our light.  As Merton talks about, it is only in loving the poverty of ourselves that we begin to understand the love of God for us in our humanity.  When we know what lies beneath, we are able to release ourselves to a deeper place.  We are able to change through the Holy Spirit.  We have adaptive capacity.

Teaching others to learn the art of reflection is one of the great gifts of being a pastor and a leader.  I have been thinking about how we teach this gift (even as I am learning it).  Cultivating a reflective life is a challenging task in our world that lives without margin.  More on that later…

Preaching on the path

reposted from Jan. 6, 2011

Henri Nouwen challenges pastors to become deeply familiar with their own interior life–”it’s dark corners as well as the light spots, the closed doors as well as the drafty rooms,”–in order to be ministers who are able to help others navigate the inner world. We are able to step into the shoes of others as we recognize our own path.

This then leads into how we preach.  Nouwen says:

“In this context, preaching means more than handing over a tradition; it is, rather, the careful and sensitive articulation of what is happening in the community so that those who listen can say: “You say what I only suspected, you clearly express what I vaguely felt, you bring to the fore what I fearfully kept in the back of my mind. Yes, yes–you say who we are, you recognize our condition.”

This to me is the call of real, authentic preaching. It is the connection of the story of Scripture, the directives of scripture with our own journey–at such a place of depth from own souls that others recognize the hidden in their own hearts.

When this place of vulnerability and connection is reached, the soil is ready to recieve the Word of God.  This is relational preaching–that which is engages the human and Divine in all of us–calls us into God, releases us from the binds of ourselves. This is the walking-alongside, sherpa-style preaching that draws us into the presence of Christ.

My life, broken and blessed

Reposted from Jan. 7, 2011

I sit at my desk to begin my work today. Pondering the bread of my life. Is it enough for others to eat?

A candle is burning, coffee brewing.  The office is quiet. I am aware of the voices and pressures that tug at my consciousness.  I find this work so wholly good, beautiful, lifegiving.  I feel honored to sit in this chair, move forward into work that seems significant to me in my small sphere. People to care for, questions to think about, administration of programs, classes to prepare, and messages to write.  This is holy work.  It is more than I am capable of doing.  I am a bit of a fraud, really.  My insides are so small, and my thoughts aren’t deep enough or wise enough to be who all of these different people and facets expect me to be.  All I have to offer is myself.

There is someone who could do this job better.

There is someone who would preach with more relevance and clarity.

There is someone who would pray with more fervor and intentionality.

There is someone who would administrate with more careful precision and follow through.

There is someone who is more mature and wise, someone who is more equipt. Someone who my students would like better, my staff would rather work for, and people would respect more.

But here I am. Small me, to do work that is God’s work. Deep and holy, and wide and shallow. Everday and ordinary, spectacular and holy.And all I have been given is my gifts, my energy, my background, my story, and my experience with God.  That’s really what this is all about.  Not what I have to bring or what others would do better.  But that my God is big enough for this work and somehow, God seems to like to partner and use people who are not enough.

And that is enough for today and everyday day.

I believe in my heart somewhere past the voices that God can use me.  I really believe that.  I really believe that I am called and prepared and ready to take one what comes in my path today. And that there is no one else who do the work that I have been given in the manner that I can do it.  I press into that truth and breathe it into my being.

My life has been bread broken to feed the multitudes inasmuch as I press into Jesus.