September NR Conference Take Away

Multiple times at key intersections when I felt conflicted about changes, when a divine discontent stirred that would not release me, I knew God was preparing me for somthing. In such times in the last decade God has  repeated a single message.

“I have not called you to a place, but to people and purpose.” I observe today how people is plural but purpose is singular. I had not connected with that before.  But that’s a whole other story…..

The first time God spoke that to me, in April 2014, it was world-perspective reorienting……. uprooting, a forceful pulling away from an attachment to “other,” toward a deeper attachment to The Presence within who defines the people and purpose that are my life in the present moment. The later times when I heard that message were gentle reminders to let go and trust Him. It was affirming that what He brings in the future will be different, but still good, perhaps even better. That’s not to say that what was removed or left behind lacked merit or purpose for its time.   It was not only greatly valued; it was necessary. But, having fulfilled its purpose in me, and for itself perhaps also, it was no longer the place for attachment to remain.

As I look back to earlier seasons of life, there were changes…… many changes.  Some were  hard and full of grief.  I was often torn between “the BEGINNING of the end of life as it was” and awareness that I could not see beyond “the END of the beginning of what life is going to be.” Today it seems like I was at times swinging from rope to rope, grasping for one before releasing the other for fear of falling and instead finding myself stuck in the middle clinging to both, frozen in time, trying to decide which one to hang on to…. behind or before. One time years ago, maybe in my 30s, I remember writing about seeing it as though I was walking across a frozen sea of ice floes, cracking and breaking apart everywhere….. stepping from ragged section to ragged section aware that at any minute I could be in the deep and done…. Both seem to be expressions of fear and reluctance to move forward in spite of the fact that there is no other choice.

In the physical realm’s existence “place,” it seems, is a function of time.  And since time is steadily moving forward and “place” does not, one has to learn to rest in place while time permits, then leave as time pulls you forward.  Some people will go with you many places and for long times. Some will join you along the way and rest with you for some stops. Some will depart from you as either they or you are carried forward in time.  From others you will mutually go separate ways as your times and places diverge.  It is in becoming comfortable, packing lightly, and embracing a pilgrimage life that you will find joy and be ready to move when The Presence says, “It’s time.”

In the longer panoramic view today, it becomes like traveling through life with a kindly Conductor who calls the stops, determines the time at each, then calls you back to loading and leaving.  Or, for others, like an Wild Adventures Guide who’s been this way before but knows it changes over time and may not be exactly the way it was on the last trip but has the wisdom and skills to get you to the destination.

The Maya Angelou quote below was brought to my attention today and reminded me of God’s words, “I did not call you to a place, but to people and purpose. .”

“You only are free when you realize you belong no place — you belong every place — no place at all.  The price is high, the reward is great,” Maya Angelou (April 4, 1928–May 28, 2014) told Bill Moyers in their 1973 conversation.

Brene Brown, in an interview with Maria Forlea, pointed to this quote and said in graduate school she loved everything Maya Angelou wrote except that quote.  In Brown’s work on belonging and attachment and needing to have one’s “tribe,” Brown said that in the absence of love and belonging there is only suffering. She was angered by that quote for decades and had only recently come to peace with it.  (I trust that in years to come she will come to see that even with love and belonging there will still be suffering. And not only your own, but that of others, as well.) She pointed to the rest of Angelou’s interview with Bill Moyer where he pressed Angelou and asked , “So you belong no where, to no one?”  to which she replied, “I belong to Maya.” It was only in “Braving the Wilderness” of courage, shame, vulnerability, trust and empathy that Brown herself came to understand Angelou’s words.  While I understand them, I do not find them complete.

Many people set out on that journey seeking love and belonging only to find that it is an inside spiritual practice, not an outside place or person.  That has been true for Angelou, for Brown, me, and many.

I found that the more precise, better-defined route, rather than just inside and spiritual, to access true knowledge, love and belonging to one’s self is accomplished piece by piece, and begins with inviting the Holy Spirit to inhabit my “self,”….. spirit, soul, and body…..and guide me on the adventure of knowing my self fully, as God intended, not as it has been sawed and hammered and yanked to square by life.   I had too many blind turns, walled off corridors and locked doors in the depths of my soul from years of hurts and fears that I dared not open alone.  By discovering that it was Christ to whom I belonged and who belonged to me, I realized my journey began in my late teens seeking the courage to face shame, to explore vulnerability in my 20s and 30s,  then discern trust and  trustworthiness in my 40s and 50s, and then arriving in my 60s to confront the need for even closer  listening and greater empathy.  That discovery of continued need has been a gift as I approach 70…… discovering ever greater wellsprings of empathy available that I never knew existed.

The true source and purpose of that wellspring of empathy was felt in a deep and personal way in a panel session at New Room on Thursday as a speaker said, “America is not our native land. West Africa is not our native land.  Eden is our native land.”. A dam broke in me. It seemed joyful enough in the moment…. a high-five “YES!” kind of moment. I began to quiver. I saw a Black sister in a pink shirt standing before the stage with her hands up. In my spirit I heard, “Go stand with her.”. My feet dragged.  “Go.” I moved slowly toward the front.  Again, “Go.” I worked my way over to her, stood beside her and cried. I modeled her postures and began praying out loud, trying to connect, confessing for not understanding the depth of what God was saying to me ….. that we face a generational woundedness that is centuries old…….Hers? Mine? Both? What do I do?

In graduate school I had taken the required diversity class but I could not understand white privilege, much less the Black woundedness and anger and demands for reparations.  I was raised in a rural south farming town where my family was very near the lowest end of struggling blue collar families.  I felt shame in my family’s “hard times” that had forced a couple of moves and living in drafty old properties that lacked up to date amenities.  I  was not indulged or pampered.  I had worked hard for the things I’d gained in life.  I felt attacked by accusations of white privilege.  I had no racial hatred, no family history of slave holding or violence against other races.  I had black friends and neighbors. Why should I accept someone else’s guilt trip?  This isn’t my issue, I said.  I turned away.  I didn’t understand.  I understood even less the violence and riots of BLM in 2020.

Here in New Room Sister Pink Shirt was stoically ignoring me.  I pleaded with her for forgiveness for not understanding the generational pain.  I recounted my own participation in civil rights and justice issues in Alabama in the 70s and 80s, trying to tell her I’m not your enemy.  I told her I felt the Father’s heart and my own lack of understanding or unwillingness to accept responsibility for its continuation now IS on me.  I might have had nothing personally to do with the generational woundedness or injustice to others, but this is the time I live in and if I fail to care enough to try to understand the continued generational woundedness that exists now apparently more than ever then I am still breaking my Father’s heart.  If I am hardened and unwilling to be part of His desire for healing, then His tears are for us both.  She turned and said, “I forgive you.”   Then she walked away.  I had hoped there might be a genuine willingness to  let Christ mediate us coming together, knowing and being known, loving and being loved. I guess that’s the best I am going to get, being forgiven for not understanding… yet with no willingness to allow relationship so that I might understand better. I am truly sorry, heartbroken, for that depth of woundedness some seem to hold. Others were more receiving and giving as I reached out to them, feeling in retrospect that maybe I was just a symbol to them of “your generation’s white church,” being either embraced or brushed aside.

There have been two such Black women in my life who have shut me out in efforts to communicate, to connect, to know and be known, to try to understand and maybe, in understanding, to also perhaps be understood.

The first was in 1977 in the League of Women Voters. I had been invited by a Jewish friend who knew my heart for voting rights and justice issues. There were Black mothers of the civil rights movement of the 50s and 60s who showed me their hearts, accepted and loved me as I did them.  They had fought the good fight of their generation. They were at peace with life.  They were the ones who changed Montgomery, AL.  They saw the birth of a dream beginning to be realized…. at a great price.  But there was one young beautiful single Black dreadlocked woman who rebuffed any attempt I made at communication, much less friendship.  The older women said, “Let her be. She’s got her own battle to fight.”  They led me to believe I understood enough just to have been coming of age in the 60s and standing with them in the now of the 70s at age 25.

 I grieve with the Father’s tears for Sister Pink Shirt today.  She’s fighting her own fight.  But some others  have indeed moved on, healed and made peace.

In early summer 2020 as COVID  raged around the world, I pleaded for relief for us all….. for a medical break through, for a move of the Spirit. I begged, “Please, surely you are battling for us.  Are we going to see relief soon?  Are we almost there?” His response was swift and firm. “Not. Even. Close.” I knew the seige was only beginning.  Six weeks later my husband died of COVID treatment complications.  Even today the fears are rising again, the lockdown threats, the divisions…..

Today I am asking the same questions.  “Lord, New Room feels like such a break through…The last two years were powerful.  This year was even more so.  And here I sit praying, “Are we getting close?  Will I live to see a breakthrough in the larger racial divide in the church, in our nation? How long, Lord? What more can I do?”

And I hear nothing.  So I return to my quiet little space in a quiet little place and wait for those God brings my way and I try again to understand why Christ’s body seems at times like such a monster to some and to others it is so beautiful no matter what colors or scars it bears.

I’m sure this isn’t what you expected.  But the impact of New Room on me personally and on my ministry was far greater than I expected. I went joyful, light hearted and participatory.  I left exhausted and eager to meet friends, enjoy the weekend and get home.  But overwhelmed by sickness I could do little more than sleep, watch some sweet sentimental movies and carry on small talk with my friend. Then I got home.  I could think again. And God started the reality check as I tried to put words on paper.

The large number of “older adults”….. late young adult to late middle age who bring burdens tell me the church is truly hurting and has been  for most of 75 years…. my entire generation.  I have hoped the GMC startup would bring a fresh wind and it may, but I don’t think that is going to be the primary driver, it’s more an acknowledgement of how close to CPR it is…. The college age and young adults are vital while I and others help the 55+ discover how much they’ve missed while they still have time to  awaken to the Kingdom before they die…… and catching some only shortly before their deaths.  That is where my ministry is going.  I have been given a change of orders through being present these last three years in a more awakened state myself.  So much so that, if I come next year it will be with an entirely different focus and expectation.  Fractionating the generational components in significant ways for deeper focused work is necessary.  New Room is perhaps more of a “mixer” not a fixer, at least not in and of itself.  The diverse seedbed initiatives are vital and each will cross pollinate at times. But each seems to be illuminating more direct and pointed evidence of age specific and issue specific needs.

I will continue to pray.