A year of...

One year ago, on February 14, which was the odd mix of secular and religious, of Valentine's Day AND Ash Wednesday, I made an impulsive, radical change. As I put on my alb, the robe that clergy in the Episcopal Church (and some others) wear as part of our worship vestments, I pondered my sermon. That's typical. But this time I thought, UGH! I cannot preach THIS sermon again. I mean it wasn't BAD exactly. It had all the right components for an Ash Wednesday sermon, a mediation on the invitation to observe a holy Lent. But oh was it dry. I just couldn't bear it. So I left my iPad behind and walked out to lead worship deciding that I would say whatever the Spirit led me to say in the sermon time. It was a little exciting. The congregation was small and intimate, so I felt like this would be okay. And, it was.

I did the same thing on the first Sunday in Lent. Then the next Sunday. And now, every Sunday for the last year. No written manuscript. Well, once in a while I have written out my thoughts. And, I still do all the reading and preparation on the text. I have a good idea what I want to say, the point I am feeling called to make, and how the readings connect with our lives and hopefully call us (or at least me) further along the path of becoming a mature, faithful Christian.

Becoming a mature, faithful Christian means to me that I am working on myself to be whole, healthy, and content in the way that I believe Jesus models for us. And then to walk with others as they journey toward becoming whole, healthy, and content. This is not the work of complacency. By content I do not mean that the work of resurrection, the work of transformation, ceases. In fact it  becomes more difficult because one becomes more aware of the kinds of internal work one must do on one's self in order to live with less anxiety.

Anxiety is a technical term from Bowen's Family Systems theory which means the unconscious, unexamined autopilot reactivity we all have to other people in our lives. This autopilot reactivity is formed in us from life experiences that hurt us and leave us wounded. We build up protective measures to keep from being wounded again, except that the protections are unconscious, unexamined, and knee jerk reactions that usually make things worse, more anxious. We blame others, we fight, we behave defensively, we justify. What we don't do is look inside at the self and wonder, what is causing ME to feel and behave this way and what can I do to stop this. Because honestly the knee jerk defensiveness is awful. It's hard work to look inside and work at changing self, but it's a heck of a lot more effective and leaves me feeling more calm than when I lived with unconscious, unexamined, knee jerk, autopilot, reactivity.

Anyway, I digress. (If you are interested in more information check out Faithwalking.us, or Lombard Mennonite Peace Center, or the Bowen Center for the Study of the Family). 

For the last year I have worked on trust. Trusting God, trusting myself. Trusting others. Trusting that I can go out on Sunday morning and the words will come to me, that I will say what needs to be said to people who are yearning for meaning in their lives. Mostly, I think, this has been the case. My sermons have become more interactive with the congregation who I invite to participate with me in a variety of ways - asking questions like, "What did you hear?" Or "What does this mean to you?" Or "What do you think is your mission, your purpose as a person of faith?"

I have also spent the year working with Faithwalking, an organization based in Houston, Texas that engages faith, family systems, and leadership principles to help one become a healthier, more whole Christian and to help others along the way. It is a mission based practice of wholeness. It takes all that I have learned over these last 20 years of work with Family Systems theory and moves it into the realm of the practical and applicable for one's self.  It is has been, without a doubt, the best work I have done since I first went to therapy in my 20's.

So last year was a year of trust, of learning and growing and deepening my capacity to trust.

This year I've decided to make a year of fun, and so I wonder just how that will turn out. We'll see.