When The Heart Waits: Chapter 1

January 15, 2015 By Michelle Van Loon

How can the church better nurture spiritual growth for those in the second half of their lives? I contend that the way we answer that question may well change the way we disciple all of our members.

Certainly cultivating the spiritual disciplines is part of that answer, but it’s important to remember that those practices are not the goal. Christlike maturity is the goal – not just for individuals, but for all of us, corporately. Because we’ve often defaulted to talking about spiritual growth as a cognitive exercise (as if heaven was going to be one eternal Bible Quiz!) or a to-do list, we’ve allowed shallow `n busy programming to suffice when deep and intentional spiritual relationship is what’s needed most. We haven’t always been very good at recognizing and supporting those moving into their second adulthood.

Three years ago, I blogged through Father Richard Rohr’s Falling Upward: A Spirituality Through The Two Halves Of Life. I did so because I hoped that some of my blog readers would find the conversation of value as they interacted with those in their lives – and that some of the leaders (of small groups, Bible studies, or churches) reading in this little corner of Ye Olde Internet might begin asking different questions about how to better serve those in their care.

Another one of those books that offers helpful description for those stumbling into the disorientation of midlife is Sue Monk Kidd’s When The Heart Waits: Spiritual Direction For Life’s Sacred Questions (HarperOne, 1990). You may recognize Sue Monk Kidd from her more recent works like The Secret Life of Bees or The Dance of The Dissident Daughter. But before she wrote those books, she grappled with finding herself at midlife a stranger in the strange land of her own life. I’ll be blogging through the book, a chapter at a time. If you’ve read the book, I’d love to have you weigh in. And if you haven’t, why not pick up a copy and join the conversation?

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That’s the sacred intent of life, of God – to move us continously toward growth, toward recovering all that is lost and orphaned within us and restoring the divine image imprinted on our soul. And rarely do significant shifts come without a sense of our being lost in dark woods, or what T.S. Eliot called the ‘vacant inerstellar spaces.’

Here is a perfect description of the collision between knowing a bunch of information about what spiritual development looks like and the stunning experience of disorientation that occurs in our souls when we realized we’ve somehow wandered into the dark woods without intending to do so. Kidd explained, “Believe me, I wanted to shove all this away and pretend it didn’t exist. But I couldn’t. Life tasted of cardboard and smelled of stagnant air. At times, I found myself shut in a closet of pain, unable to find the door. In my blackest moments I actually fantasized about running away from home to find the vital part of me that I had lost.”

She noted we’re focused on building an external life during the first half and just as focused during the second half to develop a true and gracious inner life, but also recognizes that there’s no getting from the first to the second without that confusing walk through the dark woods of transition. There are no shortcuts, no express lanes. She likens this transition to a cocoon. If you help a butterfly emerging from a coccon, you strip the creature of its strength. It will not be able to fly. The wait of the cocoon, and the epic struggle to break free of it, are necessary in order to become what’s next.

Kidd ends the introduction with this note, ” God is offering an invitation. A call to waiting. A call to the mysteries of the cocoon. I discovered that in the spiritual life the long way round is the saving way. It isn’t the quick and easy religion we’re accustomed to. It’s deep and difficult – a way that leads into the vortex of the soul where we touch God’s transformative powers.”

If we carry one thing into this darkness, it is the spiritual and emotional muscles we’ve acquired during the first half of our lives that have the word “perseverance” stamped on them. I found myself in groping through some unfamiliar woods when I became a grandmother at age 44. I was out of sync with most of my age peers. The next few years, which included relocation, kids leaving the nest, one who strung together a series of terrible and troubling choices, church upheaval and the traumatic way in which my mom died pushed me deeper into the dark forest. The harder I tried to hack my way out of the shadows, the more disoriented I became.

It is counterintuitive in every possible way to wait instead of thrashing your way through the underbrush, but that is precisely what Sue Monk Kidd is suggesting.

Have you ever tried to rush past the discomfort of transition? What have the results been in your life?

The Upside Of Nepotism?

March 16, 2015 By Michelle Van Loon

So much of my Christian journey has been marked by the way those in power have used their social privilege to either protect themselves or promote those in their families or their inner circles. I’ve written about nepotism in this space before. Others (click here and here) have raised lots of important questions about nepotism and related forms of cronyism in the church. These practices live directly at the intersection of a leaders’ joy in seeing his or her children/pals following the Lord and those unflinching words James wrote about favoritism. And every time I think I’ve seen it all when it comes to those in power using their privilege to fast-track a family member to prominence, I discover a new variation on the theme. So because I keep running into it in churches large and small, I thought I’d volley a new question about the subject, below. If you’re a leader who has placed a family member or close personal friend in a position of responsibility in your church, I’d especially love to hear from you.

Not long ago, I sat in a very large church listening to a sermon given by the child of the church’s head pastor. This individual grew up in the home of a master communicator, and had obviously learned the family business from the inside out. The message was solid, but as I looked around me, I wondered how many other gifted teachers were sitting out there in the crowd who would never, ever be given an opportunity to speak because they would never have the kind of privileged access this individual did.

A famous mother or father handing the microphone to his/her child is one example of this two-tiered system, but it is far from the only one. Hiring the pastor’s kid to do janitorial work around a church building can be just as problematic, especially if there is a qualified unemployed man with both a servant’s heart and a family to feed who wants the job. Giving a ministry role to a relative or pal without looking around like you mean it to see who the Lord has brought to your congregation to do the work is another. Maybe your sister-in-law is really the best person for the task. Then again, maybe not. But in my experience, for every one truly qualified person who has been fast-tracked to a plum position due to blood line or BFF status, there are a dozen more who shouldn’t be in their roles. In doing so, it seems to me they’re robbing gifted, experienced, qualified people from the opportunity to serve. We aren’t gathered so a particular family flourishes, but so that the body of Christ does.

Promoting* your family members if you are in a position of influence doesn’t flat-out violate Scripture’s commands, but it certainly doesn’t enhance the notion that there is equal opportunity for all believers to offer their gifts in a local church. In the small and mid-sized churches where I’ve spent the bulk of my time, the congregations that run as family businesses reflect the dynamics and dysfunction of the family in charge. It means there’s a two-tier system at play: the family and those who’ve learned to function in that family ecosystem gets to sit at the adult table, and everyone else clusters around the kiddie table. Yet we all believe Scripture doesn’t talk about two tables, or better seats for those with financial, social or spiritual privilege. There’s only one table, and there is a seat at this table for each one of us.

When I came to faith in Jesus as a teen, I took seriously his words about becoming part of his family. I knew from reading the Bible I was a child of a Father who didn’t play favorites. I know of no clearer way to state my thesis about familial privilege in the church than this: Nepotism is the way of kings, not servants. It is of the world, and sows worldly weeds among the seeds God is planting.

I’ve heard people proffering all sorts of loophole-seeking exemptions to the nepotism issue: “No guarantee a non-family member will do a better job than my cousin”, “My son knows what I expect”, “God loves families, and our clan is modeling healthy Christianity to our community”. How I wish the rationalizing would stop, and those leveraging their privilege would call it what it really is. I love my own family, broken and imperfect as we are. I am positive if any of my children or grandchildren ever desired to serve in the same ministry as me, I would be unreservedly biased in their regard. I know there would no way to navigate church conflict and critique as if we were all disconnected from these family relationships.

Am I wrong? I’d LOVE some pushback from those who’ve served in ministry with a family member. I’ve heard before from those who’ve been shut out of ministry roles or wounded by nepotism in the church. For those of you who don’t have a problem placing family members in positions of power in your congregation, talk to me about the benefits you see. How do you ensure that the church doesn’t become a family business, but functions as the body of Christ? Is there an upside to nepotism in your church you’d be willing to celebrate in the comments below?

* Nepotism is not the same thing as celebrating your family member’s gifts and accomplishments with sensitivity among your congregation. I’m not suggesting pretending those family relationships don’t exist. I am suggesting that using your position to grease the skids into a position for your kid may be problematic for the rest of your (non-related) congregation.

Radio Silence, Breaking Bad, And The (Premature) Question Of ‘Where Next?’

March 4, 2015 By Michelle Van Loon

Cold-war era space race mock-up at Kennedy Space Center. The scariest moments of those broadcasts happened when the spaceship reentered the earth’s atmosphere and Walter Cronkite told us we were now in a period of radio silence. The astronauts were incommunicado as they hurled toward splashdown.

After a couple of false starts thanks to early February blizzards, my husband and I finally got to use those frequent flyer tickets for a trip to Florida. We’ve had a couple of overnight trips in the last year, but haven’t been away just to get away in a very long time. We’ve had lots of fun visiting with friends who live here or just so happened to be “in the neighborhood” while we were here. A definite highlight for me was a visit to the Kennedy Space Center. Who knew those Gemini and Apollo rockets I watched being launched over Walter Cronkite’s shoulder when I was a kid were actually three miles away from his broadcast booth? A couple of days later, standing on Cocoa Beach in the darkness, we watched a live rocket launch. It was a once-in-a-lifetime thrill to see the controlled explosion light the sky, feel the percussion as it crossed overhead, then trace the projectile’s trail as it disappeared into space.

That rocket knew exactly where it was going.

My husband and I used some of our precious days to drive around central Florida exploring towns, condos, and even ~~trailer parks~~ manufactured home communities (I’m not kidding). Bill will be 60 this year, and with the loss of our home nearly three years ago, we recognize that we probably won’t be able to afford to live in Chicago as we approach the time when Bill won’t be working full-time anymore. Jobs or churches have been the reason we’ve moved to this point in our lives; for better or for worse, those things have clarified why we’ve moved where we’ve moved. Where do you go when you don’t have anyone asking you to be there to work for them or to serve with them?

Many at our life stage move to be near family. Though our children and grandchildren all live within an hour’s drive of our current home, the winds of change are blowing in their lives. Those winds may blow some of them to jobs or school opportunities that are far from where we are. We wonder if we’re feeling the winds uprooting us, too.

It was an interesting preliminary exercise to drive into a neighborhood and city about which we really didn’t know a thing, and try to imagine what it is like to start a life there at our ages. There were no neon signs saying, “Move Thou And Thou Couches To This Address And All Will Be Well.” Some of what we thought we might be able to afford was a little scary in a Breaking Bad sort of way. Driving around did get us talking about what mattered to us (church as a connecting point, creative and intellectual life, a low ratio of pawn shops to residents, diversity including other Jewish people, a screened porch, space for friends).

Here’s what I know about God: He usually doesn’t give us a peek at his long-range plans for our lives. So maybe this was an exercise in burning up some $2.35/gallon gas. I do know that many of our age peers are asking the same questions, and some have gotten a jump on things by moving or purchasing a second home in a new place. Others are wandering like we are, asking the same kinds of questions we are. (Many of them have more financial resources or a centrally-located family than do we, which has sometimes bred anxiety, jealousy or low-grade despair on one or both of our parts as we inevitably compare our ragged journey to theirs.) Mark Twain once said that comparison was the thief of joy. I’d add that comparison is also the mute button on God’s voice.

I’ve written in this space about our housing experiences. The need for shelter is at the base of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. The question isn’t going to disappear. But as we climb on that plane and head back to Chicago in a few hours, I am struck again by the fact that even if I knew what the future held, it wouldn’t change what God requires of me today. No big marching orders. No master plan. Just the daily bread of this:

…Jesus said, “I praise you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and learned, and revealed them to little children. Yes, Father, for this is what you were pleased to do.

“All things have been committed to me by my Father. No one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and those to whom the Son chooses to reveal him.

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” (Matthew 11:25-30)

A question for you readers who are at this life stage: How are you praying about and possibly preparing for a possible change in housing and location as you look ahead to retirement? Are you hoping to stay put? In what way is goal-setting helpful to you?

If only I could sing like Julie Andrews

September 21, 2008 By Michelle Van Loon

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens… Just the kind of images you can count on if you purchase greeting cards at Big Lots, and they certainly made their way into the lyrics of the classic Sound of Music songbook.

I wouldn’t put wet flowers or mewling cats into my own Fave Things list. It’ll be very obvious as you read my list below that I’m no songwriter. But I am grateful for (almost all of) the gifts below:

– Chopped chicken liver from the deli at Sunset Foods.

– A Sunday afternoon nap after church. I wish I could take one every day.

– The sight of the faces of my kids and my son-in-law.

– The sight of my grandson’s face.

– A glass of wine shared with my husband.

– Movie night.

– Silence.

– Sore stomach muscles because I’ve been laughing and laughing and laughing.

– A new book to read (right now, I have two: an advanced reader’s copy of Scot McKnight’s Blue Parakeet and Margaret Feinberg’s The Sacred Echo.)

– A song on a CD passed on to me by a student at Trinity. Don’t know the title, but there is a line in there about honeydew melon and pumpernickle bread that is genius. The image crawled into my skull and took up residence this weekend.

– Memories: tomorrow is the one-year anniversary of my mom’s death. My heart has been leafing through the photo album of the events leading up to her passing. I am grateful for the peace with God she discovered in the days before her death.

– The incubation stage of a possible writing project.

– The parables. They continue to undo and remake me.

– Prayer.

– The scent of summer merging into autumn.

– My morning commute. (Just kidding about this one.)

– Clean laundry.

– Grace.

What are a few things on your list?

#1 Hypocrite

June 19, 2007 By Michelle Van Loon

“I’m fed up with Christians these days,” my friend said on the phone last night.

She’s spent the last few years living in very intense, intentional discipleship and faith community settings. She’s put her own heart and attitudes both under a microscrope, simultaneously allowing them to be projected onto a big screen in the name of transparency, healing and spiritual growth. She’s experienced the kind of kingdom-radical transformation most of us can only dream of. She was a poster girl for the parable life.

I asked her what was bugging her about other believers. Her answer: “People who should know better and be better just end up acting like the rest of the world.”

Haven’t we all sung that song? Maybe some of us sing accompanied by a banjo, and others by a full symphony orchestra, but the lyrics are always the same.

I asked her what she was doing with all her frustration and there was a half-beat pause. “I’m not really attending church right now because I can’t sit through any more long, repetitive services. I’m not really reading my Bible or praying…” And as she talked, she confessed that in some weird ways, she was becoming exactly what she disliked so intensely those around her – someone who knew how to play the game, but whose spiritual life was gradually being drained of power. Her disappointment and disillusionment with other believers were eroding a once-vibrant walk with Jesus. And she knew that few people in her life these days would be able to perceive the subtle cooling that had taken place in her once-fiery heart, precisely because she had learned to play everyone’s favorite Christian game, the Hypocrite Show.

The conversation was a good one, especially since I didn’t have to say much. As she confessed her struggles, she became acutely aware of the course correction she needed in her life. The bonus was that God used her struggle to convict me, as well. Smug judgementalism dogs me – I hate it in myself. (But something tells me I don’t hate it nearly enough, since it is a regular and familiar battleground in my life.)

Again and again in our lives, we have to come to terms with the hypocrites around us, and the hypocrisy that lurks in our own hearts. The beauty of the parable of the tax collector and the Pharisee is that the poverty of the rich man was more precious to Jesus than the “righteous” performance of the religious man. It’s ironic that the moment we stand in judgement of those hypocrites, we are a hair’s-breadth away from becoming one of them.

Have you ever realized you were on the way to becoming what you hated in others’ lives? I’d love to hear about what made the lights go on in your heart.

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Update: The high drama of the church women’s summer book club’s loony choice of “The Secret” ended. (Kidding about the drama – to my knowledge, there wasn’t any, other than a couple of e-mails I sent) An announcement went out today – cancelled for lack of interest. Good – because it was a poorly-informed reading choice in this church’s context. Troubling – because the reasons for the “why” and “how” of this choice really need to be addressed. I’m not sure they will be.