Stories of faith

Tennesse isn’t California, and Nashville isn’t Santa Barbara, but there are scenes and reflections in Nora Gallagher’s Things Seen And Unseen: A Year Lived In Faith, that resonate with what I hear from people in and around the church. Commercially, the book is old news; it was a bestseller in the late 90’s. But that also means you can get it really cheap from used book sellers.

When I returned to church in 1979, I did not know why. I was and am an ordinary person with ordinary concerns. I’m an ordinary member of my generation. But I am almost always the only practicing Christian at a dinner party, often the only “religious” person, certainly the only one who attends a church regularly, believes in God, prays, has a denomination. Throughout much of the eighties, I knew this about myself in secret and never mentioned it to anyone outside the Church, as if I were gay and still in the closet. (p. 64)

As far as being in the closet is concerned, Nashville is probably the San Francisco of United States Christianity, but that doesn’t necessarily translate into high comfort levels of talking about our relationship with God.

The cause of my secrecy was largely embarrassment. I feared being thought of as fundamentalist or stupid or both. From the time I started attending church again in my late twenties to my middle thirties, I kept my secret. While my friends (…) knew I went to Mass, we rarely spoke about it. To be fair, I didn’t know how to speak about it. My faith at the beginning wasn’t coherent: what words came out were sentimental, defensive, distorted, like bulbs that bloom too early are bitten by frost. (p. 64-65)

Are you afraid of embarrassing yourself talking about how your faith shapes who you are and what you do? I used to, until I became more comfortable with who I am and who I am becoming (which, of course, has been a result of my faith shaping my life). The hard thing is to simply be honest, because honesty makes us vulnerable. On a work trip to New Orleans, back in December and early January, we (ages ranging from 6 to 82 years old) told each other stories every night, simple, honest, beautiful and moving stories. All of them were our responses to a simple question, “Where did you see God today?” You can ask yourself that question every night, and write your answers in a journal. Or better yet, you can ask your spouse, your child, your best friend; it’s a much better invitation to deepening your relationship than “How was your day?”

And if you want to learn from a woman who tells her stories with honesty and beauty, I recommend that old bestseller by Nora Gallagher.

Ash Wednesday

Lent is a journey, a spring trip. The journey begins with ashes. Ashes smeared on our foreheads. Ashes representing all that’s left of our Palm Sunday exuberance. Remember how excited we were, welcoming Jesus into the city? We stopped the traffic on Broadway. We greeted the ruler of our days with expectations of real change, expectations of new life, true community, and a different kind of world. We threw our coats on the road, convinced that we’d be wearing kingdom robes from now on. We waved palm fronds and leafy branches, turning the sides of the road into the lush banks of the river of life.

The palm fronds went up in flames, and all that’s left are ashes. We’re wearing our dusty old coats again – dust and ashes. You alone know what else went up in flames since that day: what hope didn’t survive the attacks of cynicism; what love didn’t last; what certainty turned into anxious doubt – dust and ashes.

We are not the people we thought we could be. We’re not as strong, as loving, as committed, not as patient as we thought. None of us, not one, nominated for Best Disciple at the Golden Zion awards… We’re mortal, we’re human; earth creatures with hopes of heaven.

It would be tempting to wear a dirty grey smudge on our foreheads as a sign of regret and a promise to try harder this time. It would be tempting to engage in impressive acts of pennance, giving up shopping, TV, and red meat for seven weeks. After all, isn’t Lent about giving up stuff?

Nora Gallagher remembers a friend of her’s saying, “Annie’s giving up drinking, Terri’s giving up chocolate, and I’m just giving up.” (Things Seen And Unseen: A Year Lived In Faith, p. 80) When I first read those words, I laughed, but not for very long. Suddenly I heard great sadness in them. I imagined one of my friends saying them, and how I would put my hand on his arm and say, “Don’t give up; you’re not alone.”

And then I read the words again and I smiled. Lent isn’t about giving up this or that – chocolate, or caffeine, or scotch – it really is about “just giving up” and giving in. Lent is about giving up resistance to God’s persistent grace. Lent is about giving in to a love and power greater than our own, strong enough to save us. Lent is about learning to trust the promise again.

Lent is a journey, a spring trip. The journey begins with ashes smeared on our foreheads, and the smudge shows the outline of a cross. At the cross, all our journeys end. At the cross, everything goes up in flames. The cross is the end of the world – and the beginning of the new creation. The journey ends with the joy of mortals who discover that the tomb is empty. The journey ends with new life flourishing on the banks of the river of life.

Adaptive change

Holy Conversations is a good resource for strategic planning. It's very flexible, i.e. adaptable for specific needs, as well as simple. I read through it once, and am now reading it with a small group of leaders. We'll discuss the basic concepts and determine the scope (and length) of the planning process. Part of the discussion will be funding and use of an outside facilitator.
I'm also reading Good to Great by Jim Collins. It is based on research with for-profit corporations, but the findings can easily be transferred to organizations in general: it all boils down to identity, context, purpose, and relationships.