Reclaim your too-muchness

When have you been told that you were too much?

Too intimidating?

Too emotional?

Too opinionated?

Too invested?

Too smart?

Too beautiful?

The church and the world often tell women that we are too…too…too. Our too-muchness makes people uncomfortable. Our too-muchness threatens the status quo. And yet, the church and the world need our too-muchness. As Tectonic plates shift beneath the church and culture, women have the insight and innovation that can result in a more just and sustainable society.

AnaYelsi Velasco-Sanchez, an IndoLatinx mujerista and faith-based organizer, spoke about reclaiming our too-muchness at Nevertheless She Preached. She said that people want to celebrate the survival of women who have experienced trauma. They often do not, though, want to celebrate what made it possible – our too-muchness.

This too-muchness is both forged in circumstances and God-given. As a matter of faithfulness, then, we must lean into our too-muchness. But how do we do that?

  • Think about when you have felt most powerful. What made it possible for you to claim your strength? What influence do you have in recreating these conditions?
  • Think about when you have felt least powerful. What were the circumstances? Which of these circumstances can you change or work around in the future in order to claim more of your strength?
  • Who affirms you in your too-muchness? How might you amplify those supportive voices?
  • Whom can you affirm in their too-muchness? How might you go about it?
  • How has your too-muchness served you well? How might you remind yourself of those good outcomes on a regular basis?
  • What does it look like to be grateful for your God-given too-muchness?

I hope that these questions provide some points of reflection for wearing your too-muchness with pride and helping others do the same.

[Note: this is the third of four posts inspired by the Nevertheless She Preached conference.]

Photo by Ryan Riggins on Unsplash.

Advertisements

Vulnerability as rebellion

“Sometimes vulnerability might look like rebellion to someone else.” So proclaimed Kyndra Frazier – a pastor, mental health professional, and self-described hope innovator (I love that term!) – from the Nevertheless She Preached stage. If God is working for our thriving, she said, then we can risk standing in our truth and fully inhabiting our bodies.

I confess, I struggle with the V word. Mightily. I’ve assumed for a long time that it’s because I am an internal processor, a left-brained thinker, and a deeply private person. But lately I’ve remembered I was more outgoing – more willing to wear my heart on my sleeve – at one time. Case in point: I remember holding a boom box out the window of a friend’s house, crying and blasting Debbie Gibson, to try to win back a boyfriend in the sixth grade. Most of the girls in my grade were inside the house, while many of my male classmates were outside. I was not deterred by the gazes and whispers of this party-sized crowd. (The aim of this exercise was problematic, for sure, but also indicative that my resistance to vulnerability is learned, not inherent.)

I pinpoint the first day of seventh grade as my withdrawal into myself. New school. New people. New universe, as a formerly public school kid starting private school. The first bell rang, and I was clueless. Was I supposed to go to my first class, or was there some sort of orientation first? The first night of homework – a trauma that devolved into tears and lashing out at my parents and lasted into the early hours of the next day – zapped my confidence. The first weeks went by, and the best friend I’d followed to this new school disappeared into a new circle of peers. It suddenly felt too risky to lay out my hopes and fears and anxieties, so I stopped doing so. I was being strong and stoic, I told myself. Who wants to be a walking puddle?

What I didn’t realize was that I was playing into cultural messages that keep us isolated so that we cannot find each other, band together, and affect change. But vulnerability as rebellion exposes those messages and the systems they support for the evils they are. It prompts us to tell our stories to one another so that we see God in all people. It broadcasts the needs we each have and the barriers we encounter to having those needs met so that we can remove those obstacles. It joins us at the heart with people we see as soul siblings, and it reminds us that our vulnerability is exactly the power we need to overhaul unjust institutions. Sharing my vulnerability in service to rebellion is the least I can do as someone with relative privilege, recognizing that others’ efforts to be authentic have much higher stakes.

I’m going to try to be more vulnerable, because these times call for rebellion. Will you join me?

[Note: this is the second of four posts inspired by the Nevertheless She Preached Conference.]

Photo by Tim Marshall on Unsplash.

 

The ministry of absence

The death of a loved one. A financial catastrophe. The disappearance of a child. A sexual assault. The anticipation of a life-altering diagnosis. A journey into the unknown. These are some of the situations in which pastors and other caregivers are called to provide a ministry of presence – an embodiment of God’s love for those who are lonely, hurting, or anxious – because words are insufficient and our ability to do something is limited.

In the pastoral life, much emphasis is placed on this ministry of presence, and for good reason. Christians are people of the incarnation, in which God put God’s own body on the line so that humankind might feel the divine breath, touch the divine’s clothing, and experience the divine washing our dirty, smelly feet. Through Jesus God was born into the world, moved about the world, and was murdered by the world, yet came back from death to show off scars and cook fish on the beach for friends. Jesus was fully present to us, and in being so he demonstrated God’s own desire to be close to us.

And yet, we can’t always be present. Sometimes the reasons are logistical; time and geography do not permit. Sometimes the reasons are that we have multiple pulls on our ministry at the same time. And sometimes the reasons are that we have nothing left to give at that moment. At this point self-care becomes an imperative rather than merely a good idea. Many of us resist self-care, though, because of critical voices that come from within us and beyond us and because we follow a Christ who made time for others, even when he desperately needed to catch his breath. We equate self-care with selfishness, and we talk ourselves out of it.

It’s time to reframe self-care. Last week at Nevertheless She Preached, I was introduced to the concept of a ministry of absence by Jaime Clark-Soles, professor of New Testament at Perkins School of Theology. The term, however, was coined by Henri Nouwen. Nouwen believed that pastors had become so available that there was not enough space for the Holy Spirit to move in the lives of God’s people. In other words, parishioners have become dependent on pastors rather than on God, and pastors have become too eager to get their needs to be needed met by responding to every care request. Occasionally making ourselves scarce not only gives our bodies, hearts, and egos a rest, then, but also allows our people to strengthen their relationships with the God who wants good for them.

In a faith centered on incarnation and a vocation born out of that faith, how does a ministry of absence compute? The reality that Jesus is no longer physically with us provides a good start. He was raised from the dead, he had a few meetings with the disciples to boost their confidence for the work ahead…and then he ascended. He took off into the clouds before the disciples thought they were ready to discern and do on their own. They had a lot to argue about and figure out, and they did it with the help of the Holy Spirit. They likely wouldn’t have done it at all if Jesus had still been hanging around. For one thing, the Spirit did not descend until Jesus ascended. And Jesus’ presence enabled the disciples’ dependence, whereas his absence activated their boldness. That boldness built the body of Christ here on earth, through which the incarnation lives on, spreads the good news, and cares for the least of these.

There are times to minister through your presence, and there are times to minister through your absence. Prayerfully consider what your indicators might be that one or the other is called for, then go forth in faith that the Spirit will fill whatever space you do not.

[This post is the first of four upcoming reflections inspired by Nevertheless She Preached.]

Photo by Hello I’m Nik on Unsplash.

My commitment to keep growing as a coach

I recently celebrated five years as a coach. I have felt more creative, productive, and impactful doing this work than at any other time in my ministry. I love what I do, and I want to get better at it every day. That’s why I follow a five-pronged approach to my professional development:

I learn about coaching. Each month I attend – at minimum – two hours of continuing education online in the form of learning labs and webinars. I listen to a coaching podcast weekly, and I read books about coaching. Once or twice per year I take a 16-hour training around a particular aspect of coaching. These learning opportunities help me expand my understanding of coaching.

I watch coaching. A couple of the organizations I’m affiliated with occasionally offer live demonstrations by master coaches. I tune in to see how those who have been in the field longer than me facilitate new awareness in their clients. These demos give me a picture of excellence in coaching to strive toward.

I coach. I can’t grow in my ministry – and what would be the point? – if I don’t actually coach! And so I do, happily, four days per week. After each session, I sit and reflect for a few minutes on what went well and in what areas I’d like to improve. These coaching sessions and post-call analyses allow me to inhabit the role of a coach better.

I seek feedback about my coaching. At the end of every first session, I ask new coachees what about my approach was helpful and what I can do on the next call to be more helpful. I emphasize that feedback is welcome throughout the coaching relationship, since my goal is to support coachees in reaching their hoped-for results. I have also created a form for those whose coaching packages have concluded to evaluate the process, my competence, and my adaptability. This feedback gives me other perspectives on my coaching, pointing me to areas that need additional attention.

I get coached. I believe in the coaching process, which necessarily means that I pursue coaching for myself. I meet several times per year with a mentor coach who helps me work through challenges in my role as a coach and as the sole proprietor of a coaching practice. Being coached helps me put myself in the shoes of my coachees and remember what it’s like to be the one bringing the agenda, with all the excitement and hesitancy that entails.

I strive to be the best possible coach so that I can fulfill my call faithfully and serve my coachees well. I pursue professional development eagerly so that I can meet both of these goals and thereby promote well-being in clergy and the congregations they lead.

Photo by Nikola Jovanovic on Unsplash.

Fatigue’s impact on trust

Recently I was coaching a pastor who was two months into a new call. She was excited about her church and its mission potential. She was also enjoying getting to know the people, but she was having trouble trusting them. She was a bit befuddled by this, because there was no overt reason for this hesitation. She hadn’t received any hurtful criticism or significant pushback. When I asked what the lack of trust was about, she thought for a moment. She then named relational fatigue as a key factor. In this pastor’s case, she had taken a full month off – a typical fallow period – before diving into her new ministry. And yet she was recognizing that she needed more time to tend to her (understandably) tender heart after leaving behind parishioners that she loved.

This pastor had just provided perhaps the most powerful testimonial for taking ample time off between ministry positions. We often cite physical and spiritual exhaustion as the primary motivators for spacing out calls. But bringing closure to relationships with people we’ve walked alongside during their personal milestones, with whom we have dreamed and argued, and who have been present for our own ups and downs is hard, good work. It can be overwhelming to think about opening ourselves up to knowing and being known by a whole new congregation. And yet, the bedrock of strong connections is trust, which we do not lend or receive without the willingness to make ourselves at least a little vulnerable.

This is not to say that it’s easy to take long stretches between ministry positions. Personal financial pressures are real. Churches that have been in long search processes are eager for the uncertainty to end and the settled pastor to arrive. (Search teams in particular are known to apply pressure to be on site as soon as possible. After all, the team members know the incoming minister best and are most excited about her arrival!) The pastor herself is looking forward to a fresh start in a new setting. But before committing to a start date, consider not only what you need in terms of every manner of recovery, but also what time frame will allow you to enter the system with a readiness for mutual belonging. This is a mindset – a heart orientation – that attends to the long-term missional and financial health of both clergy and congregation.

If you are already in place and find yourself reluctant to trust even in the absence of conflict, then self-care is in order. When we are unable to risk exposure, whether we are new in a call or ten years into our tenure, we need time to rest. We need space for introspection. We need opportunities to view or create beauty. We need relief from the relentlessness of ministry. Because if we have not tended to our own inner lives, we will not be able to offer a quality of presence to others. And if we withhold, then we do not build trust and do not forge or maintain relationships that make bold ministry possible.

In the case of my coachee, we strategized ways to create space and clarity within her current personal and professional realities so that she could increase her capacity to trust. If you find yourself turning inward in your ministry setting, what changes do you need to make so that you can be the pastoral leader God has called you to be?

[Note: my coachee graciously granted me permission to share her story.]

Photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash.

Bookending the day

Your alarm goes off. You groan and bury your face in your pillow. Is it morning already?

Your fatigued body slumps into bed, and you can barely work up the energy to pull up the covers. Meanwhile, your brain is on overdrive, trying to process everything that happened during the day and all the tasks that await you tomorrow.

Sound familiar? You’re not alone. Real rest can be hard to come by, making for a slow start to the day. Real exertion of every variety – part of the deal in ministry – is hard on the body, mind, and spirit, making for a fitful entrée to much-needed sleep. It’s a vicious cycle.

Starting and ending the day with intentionality can help you frame your day more positively (thus giving you energy) and end your day with gratitude (thus sending you off to quicker and more satisfying rest). These bookends don’t have to be lengthy or cumbersome. They just have to work for you. Here are some suggestions.

Starting the day

  • Breathe deeply for 30 seconds before getting out of bed
  • Do a 5-minute interval workout
  • Decide on a focus word for your day that you can repeat to yourself as needed
  • Smile at yourself in the mirror
  • Speak aloud a sentence prayer as you cross the threshold of your home or office
  • Refuse to look at your phone until you get to work
  • Read a short devotional at your desk before you turn on your computer

Ending the day

  • Utilize the examen
  • Pray in color or doodle or write in a journal
  • Identify a way you helped someone or grew as a person or pastor that day, then name and give thanks for a way someone helped you
  • Mindfully stretch out your weary body and remember that you are wonderfully made
  • Tell someone you love them, whether in person or by technology
  • Create a short ritual of letting go of undone tasks or unmet expectations for the day
  • Meditate for a couple of minutes or do a body scan once you’ve gotten in bed

You cannot control all the events of your day. Bookending your day with intentionality can help you control your responses and their effects on you, however, thereby enabling you to release what is not yours to worry about and guarding your body, heart, and mind from an unhealthy level of exhaustion.

What would you add to these lists, and what might you try to frame your day in a new way?

Photo by Adi Goldstein on Unsplash.

Coaching: then and now

This memory popped up on my Facebook feed last week:

Five years ago I was just starting out as a coach. I hadn’t planned on this path, though I’d thought I might pursue training somewhere down the line. But in 2013 the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship wanted to prepare twenty or so ministers to work with congregations – and more specifically, their pastors – in the new Dawnings visioning process, and I couldn’t pass up that kind of professional development opportunity.

At first I coached because it fit my interests and my vocational circumstances. I had personally benefitted from being coached. I am endlessly curious, to the point that my husband gets irritated by all my questions. I love resourcing and encouraging fellow clergy. And I could see immediate use for my new skills in my congregational ministry setting.

It wasn’t long, however, before I began to think bigger. The training CBF paid for put me halfway toward the number of hours I needed for an International Coach Federation credential, and it seemed like a no-brainer to take that additional step. An appointment change seemed imminent for my United Methodist clergy spouse, so I needed to make my ministry portable. My son was young, and I wanted control of my schedule so that I could spend as much time with him as possible. And I relished hearing pastors understand themselves and their circumstances better, find hope in the midst of trouble, and strategize ways to meet goals and overcome challenges. So in the summer of 2015, coaching became my primary means of fulfilling my call.

Since then I have added to my coaching by publishing resources, leading retreats and workshops, posting weekly reflection prompts, and continuing to seek out professional development outlets for myself. I find joy in each of these ministry manifestations, and I am more excited to come to work every day than I ever have been.

Now, five years in and going strong, I would like to pause and express gratitude for my coaching mentors, all the clients I have worked with, and every person who has read my blog, downloaded one of my resources, or participated in a learning space I facilitated. Your trust in me and your willingness to teach me through your creativity and courage mean more than I can express. Here’s to another five years of growing in ministry together!

Pastor’s scavenger hunt

Are you new in your call? Have you been sitting at your desk for so long that your Fitbit is angry at you? Do you need a challenge that is unrelated to figuring out how to be prophetic yet still heard from the pulpit? Are you emotionally done for the day, but for whatever reason you can’t yet head home?

If you answered yes to any of these questions, I have an activity for you. Below is a scavenger hunt for items around your church. (Feel free to adapt the dates and items for newer or non-traditional churches.) You can use it simply for a change of pace, or you can treat it as an anthropological exercise, asking yourself what you learn about your congregation as you cross off each find.

  • Pre-2000 photo directory
  • Past VBS group art project (e.g., banner, mosaic)
  • Spot where there needs to be signage but there is none
  • New-to-you fact about the church’s history
  • Unlikely memorial gift
  • Picture of a current lay leader as a child or teen
  • Vantage point in the sanctuary that helps you understand the worship experience in a new way
  • Book in your office or the church library written before 1955
  • Space that is underutilized or can be reimagined
  • Camp or mission trip t-shirt that is at least 5 years old
  • Symbol that encapsulates the spirit of the congregation
  • Book or curriculum piece you haven’t looked at for at least 6 months that inspires a new idea
  • Physical change you have made at the church
  • Reminder of a previous pastor
  • Something that can’t be moved or changed without a lot of hand-wringing
  • Location that delights your senses
  • Retired parament
  • Sign of hope or new life

Go forth and scavenge, and I’d love to hear the most unusual – or revelatory – treasure you find.

Photo by Rachel Pfuetzner on Unsplash.

Coaching toward vacation

I have army-crawled toward vacation many times, so mentally and physically depleted that I wasn’t sure I’d cross the threshold before I collapsed from exhaustion. Those were hard starts to time away. They involved at least a couple of days to decompress and to get some semblance of energy back before I could really enjoy my respite. Then there was the anticipatory grief of re-entering “real life,” which cut short my fun on the back end and made me already start pining for my next vacation. This pattern held whether I was in a call I loved or one that made me want to hide under the covers.

Our beach trip three weeks ago was different. Beforehand, I had picked up several new coaching clients that I was eager to get started with. I had some projects I was looking forward to. I was feeling creative in my writing and planning. I was far from depleted. Still, I was glad to listen to crashing waves and spend concentrated time with my family. And I was ready to come back to work afterward.

This easy entry to and exit from time off is what I hope for you so that you can truly enjoy your hard-earned breaks, whether you have a grand adventure planned or intend to hole up at home with a stack of novels. Here are some coaching questions to help you work toward this reality:

  • What must be taken care of before your mind can let go of work?
  • Which of these tasks belong only to you, and which can others take on?
  • How far out from vacation do you need to start tackling your list to give yourself enough time, pacing yourself so that you don’t start your time off in recovery mode?
  • How will you give yourself grace if all the to-dos aren’t completed before your break?
  • How might you ritualize closing up shop so that your heart and mind grasp that you are on respite?
  • How will you acknowledge and then let go of work concerns as they (naturally) come to mind during your time away?
  • How can you celebrate the end of your vacation and reorient toward work so that you are ready to get back to it?
  • What will help you remember that you don’t have to do all the things on the first day you return to the office?

May your vacations be restful and rejuvenating. The church and world need you – particularly in this cultural and political moment – to be at your best.

The lie about outliers

In his 2008 book Outliers: The Story of Success, journalist Malcolm Gladwell sets out to obliterate the myth of rugged individualism. No one is self-made, he asserts, no matter how humble that person’s beginnings might seem. Everyone who has reached the pinnacle of achievement has been afforded opportunities and advantages that provided a foundation for hard work and persistence.

Money and status are obvious springboards for success. But Gladwell digs deeper than that. Athletes get a leg up when they barely miss early childhood cut-off dates for sports signups, making them bigger and more physically mature – and thus getting more playing time, attention, and investment from coaches – than their peers. The peculiar demands of rice farming created a culture of year-round work in Asian countries that filters down to students, setting them up for an unwavering focus on schoolwork. Bill Gates came of age in exactly the right era to get in on the personal computing revolution, and he lived in the right place to capitalize on a series of opportunities that got him thousands of hours of coding practice on the newest – and scarcest – technology. Privilege comes in many forms.

Though the myth of pulling oneself up by the bootstraps is inspirational, the real-life weaving together of generations and circumstances strikes me as profoundly biblical. Scripture is full of success (and failure) stories that have their roots in previous eras, others’ choices, and living in a certain place at a particular time. And Jesus makes it clear that we belong to one another, as the effects of our words and actions ripple out far beyond what we can see.

What, then, are the hidden forces that have contributed to our success? And how might we help others to see their own advantages and opportunities? One possibility is to map out our lives, starting with the present day and going backward to examine (to the best of our limited vision) the factors that brought us to where we are. Who mentored us? What were our lucky breaks? How did our birthdates, cultural heritage, physical makeup, access to options, and location shape our trajectories?

If we can unearth the forces at work in our lives and give up the narrative that we got where we are under our own power, the implications for widening our (individual and congregational) understanding of and call to mission are huge. And we might discover innovative ways to support others in less traditional ways when we don’t have much money and status to offer.

Photo by Tory Morrison on Unsplash.