Recently I wrote about the differences between change, transition, and transformation based on William Bridges’ work. Basically, change is a technical tweak to behavior, and it’s prompted by a shift in circumstances. Transition and transformation, though, nudge us to see and be, not just act, in new ways. They are adaptive challenges, and as such, they are much harder.

There are times when all we need is to do things a little bit differently. I might need to find a different route if there’s road construction on the way to one of my regular destinations. No big deal. But if I decide to stop driving my car altogether because of the environmental impact, that’s trickier. I might say I want to make that change, but then I justify hopping behind the wheel just this one time, which then turns into many times. Something is keeping me from shifting my behavior.

Robert Kegan and Lisa Lahey, professor at Harvard's Graduate School of Education and Associate Director of Harvard's Change Leadership Group respectively, have written a great book about why meeting adaptive challenges is so tough. In Immunity to Change: How to Overcome It and Unlock Potential in Yourself and Your Organization, they introduce an approach to sussing out how we get in our own way. First, we identify the transition or transformation we seek. Second, we name the things we are doing that run against that end. Third, we consider what it would look like to do the opposite of those counter-productive behaviors, which allows us to surface our deeply-held worries and hidden commitments. Fourth, we then articulate the assumptions behind those worries and commitments.

Using my example of no longer using my car, I might change that into a positive statement for the transformation I’m looking for: I want to start walking, using public transportation, or carpooling instead of driving my own car. The counter-productive behavior is that I still use my car. After all, it’s a tough habit to break! If I really think about not ever using my car, I start to worry about how reliable I can be if I only use other modes of transportation. (Reliability is a core value for me.) Will I always be able to be on time? Also, I might spend much more time in transit. What will that mean for my available work windows? And, of course, there’s a comfort factor. It’s 90-100 degrees from May-October in Alabama. I’ll practically need to hook up to an IV to stay hydrated if I’m in the heat that much more because I’m walking or waiting for a bus. These concerns highlight some hidden commitments I haven’t previously thought about. I perhaps lean too hard and too often into presenting a very tailored version of myself. I can put work above justice efforts. I don’t like to sweat. (Ok, I already knew that last one.) These commitments lead me to assumptions that undermine my efforts to make this big shift: if I’m less reliable because I’m more beholden to a bus or carpool schedule, people will trust me less. I don’t believe I’ll have time to get all my work done well. Sweating makes me look and feel gross, which means people might not want to be around me.

Kegan and Lahey propose experiments to test these assumptions that hold us back. We do, in micro-doses, the things our assumptions scream at us not to do, then we collect data on how others react and how we feel about our own functioning. So I might take the bus the next time I need to go somewhere that I’m expected to be at a certain time. I’ll assess whether I’m actually late and what happens if I am. I’ll notice what the impact is on my work time of a longer journey to my destination. If I’m sweaty when I get there, I’ll note how far people stand away from me. As I continue to experiment, the effects of my assumptions will start to erode, and I will build new routines and new neural pathways.

We live in a world of adaptive challenges. The Church is no different. We see shifts we want to make, but we often can’t get there in large part because we are incorrectly assessing the situation as simply requiring a change in what we do. In this time, there are very few situations that call simply for technical solutions. We must be ready to see and be in new ways. Kegan and Lahey offer a framework for digging deep enough to see what’s getting in our path and then to remove that barrier.

Photo by Kalei de Leon on Unsplash.

One of the most helpful classes I took early in my coach training was about change, transition, and transformation. (The class content built on the work of William Bridges, who was an expert in these areas.) Often we lump the three terms together, but they are actually quite different:

• Change is a shift in our circumstances. It is external. We can choose it, or it can be forced upon us.

• Transition is a response to change. It is learning to see things differently as a result of our shift in circumstances. Our insides work to catch up to what is going on outside of us.

• Transformation is a wholly new way of not just seeing things differently but being in the world differently. We are fundamentally altered because we have so fully embraced change.

We do not go directly from change to transformation. There is that transition time in the middle in which what was is now in the rearview, but what is yet to come and whom we are yet to be are still in the future. Think of this neutral zone as a bridge between two realities. One of the functions of bridges is to carry us over water or roads. Not having solid ground underneath feels very precarious for a lot of people, including me. Yet there we are, left having to move forward, not just stay parked in the middle of that bridge - even if we can’t fully see what’s on the other side.

In our lives we have all found ourselves on the bridge at one time or another, prompted by a move, a job change, a birth or death close to us, or an injury that has altered how we move about the world. In 2020 people all across Earth found ourselves in a neutral zone. There was a sudden call to go from all that was familiar into lockdown. If we got out of our house, we needed to mask and physically distance. If we brought anything from the outside into our home, we were told, at least at first, to wipe it down for pathogens. Schools ended the year abruptly. Churches moved community online. Nothing felt familiar anymore. We couldn’t hug our people. We couldn’t go to the places we wanted. We couldn’t observe milestones in the ways we were used to. And how long would we be in this profound disorientation? The epidemiologists were saying from the start of Covid’s spread that – optimistically – we were in a 2-3 year event, though many of us, including me, could not hear that for a long time. We just reacted to a drastic shift in circumstances. But when weeks turned into months, we adjusted our way of thinking: ok, we are now in a global pandemic. There is no quick fix. We will do what we must in order to get through this, one day at a time. Our seeing realigned with our doing. To some extent we are still in the latter part of the Covid neutral zone. The virus is very much still with us, and we don’t yet know what a world where we are fundamentally changed by our pandemic experience will look like. Thankfully, we have a lot more knowledge and tools now to blunt its effects.

As a result of Covid and so many other changes in the world, many of us individually and collectively are in our own neutral zones. Maybe we’re doing things differently because we have to. Maybe we’re even seeing things in new ways because of our shifted circumstances. We’re still on that bridge, though. So what do we need to get to the other side?

• Celebrate what was without getting stuck in it. What is the legacy that you are taking with you into the neutral zone that can help you navigate it well? What are the values to which you will stay true, no matter what the future looks like?

• Cultivate your noticing that that God is working in, among, and through you. Sometimes it’s hard to see, but we never leave­ God’s compassionate presence and the hope of communal salvation that Jesus offers.

• Assess the tools at hand. Every person, every group, every congregation has a wealth of gifts that put you in position to cross the bridge. Maybe they need to be redistributed, but you have – and are – enough.

• Ask lots of questions. ­­What if…? I wonder what…? When we stay in that stance of thoughtful and playful curiosity, or even faithful doubt, creativity and possibility are available to us.

• Trust in and mutually support one another. The neutral zone is not the place to get stranded or to strand others. This is a bridge best navigated together.

The good news is that we don’t have to transform ourselves. We just have to open our hearts and our minds to God’s invitations, being confident that when we do, God will work in us in ways that don’t just fundamentally alter us but also the world around us.

 Photo by Modestas Urbonas on Unsplash.

We are in one stretch of a much longer season of challenge in the Church. I have read lots of insightful articles about it. I have written about it myself, as recently as last week.

And yet.

My fundamental belief about challenge, about change, steadfastly remains that opportunity comes baked into it. Let’s look for its notes.

Maybe what once worked for your church no longer does. The gifts that you have can be combined in new ways for a different (but still potent) impact.

Maybe your pastor has departed. This is your congregation’s chance to think through what kind of leader it needs in this hybrid virtual/in-seat world.

Maybe your once placid church finds itself in conflict. This can build needed capacity for hard, healthy conversations now and down the road.

Maybe the familiar faces that used to surround you in the pews no longer show up. That can create impetus for intentional outreach to and emotional as well as physical space for new people.

When our practices are shaken loose from our routines, when the people who define community for us leave us, when we disagree, when we can only put one foot in front of the other because The Future seems so uncertain, we have choices to make. We can make them out of anxiety, out of a desperation to claw our way back to what was. Or, we can admit that our vision and control are limited and instead play. Experiment. Ask. Succeed and reflect (and celebrate!) or fail and reflect, untying learning from getting it all right. We can - dare I say? - delight in the mess. God blesses our earnest, prayerful efforts.

So what might your church want to try? What fun do you want to have? What (or whom) do you want to get curious about? Consider this your permission slip. You’re doing it right, even if you’re getting it wrong, if you open your palms and continually seek God’s wisdom.

Photo by Billy Pasco on Unsplash.

I’d had pretty much the same hairstyle for twenty years. Somewhere between chin and shoulders in length, with long layers. This look suited me well enough, I guess. There was no complicated styling involved. I didn’t have to buy any product. I could throw my hair in a ponytail when I wanted. Still, I was craving something different.

I researched short hairstyles, asking friends with cute hair to send me pictures and details on what it took to get their coiffures to look that way. I set aside some money for a cut in a real! salon! because it seemed too risky to make a big change for $7.99 at Great Clips. I asked around for stylist recommendations. I was ready…or was I? I kept putting off making the appointment. No time for a haircut this week…I don’t want to still be figuring out how to tame my new ‘do when X event rolls around…I remember being confused when I was in preschool and my mom made a drastic hair change, and I don’t want to do that to my son.

And then said son began protesting whenever I pulled my hair back into a ponytail, which was most of my at-home hours. “No! Take it out!” He even became quite adept at pulling out my ponytail holder before I even realized what was happening. It was time for the haircut.

So I did it. I went to the grown-up salon and had all the hair that had been weighing me down whacked off. I had been wanting and plotting for a while, but I had to feel a pinch to get myself in gear.

This is the state that many of our churches find themselves in. They want to follow their evolving call from God. Often they already have the resources and have even made some concrete plans for how to move forward. Something, however, is holding them back. Maybe it’s fear. Maybe it’s comfort. These congregations need to feel the pinch before they’re willing to make the leap.  

Sometimes the pinch happens naturally. A staff transition necessitates re-evaluation of leadership needs. The property next to the church goes up for sale. A local service agency invites the congregation into a partnership that would benefit both entities and the community as a whole. A shrinking budget prompts discussion about the best use of resources.

Sometimes, however, leaders who have latched onto God’s dream for the congregation need to help their constituents feel the pinch. How might you help the people you minister alongside discover both the opportunity in and urgency for potential change?