I’ve essentially lived the last few months only being able to attend to the thing that’s one foot in front of my face – there are things that I’ve missed because I haven’t been able to lift my head up and look beyond or around. The consequence of this feels like I probably would be naming different trenches that are within my context rather than within myself.

There are two things that are growing my hope within this. First, that I notice my capacity for peacemaking work growing even in time-sensitive or overwhelming moments. I can lead with curiosity and keep a pro-human approach at the center in a way that would’ve taken far more work and capacity before JOH. Second, my lack of ability to do this all myself is helping me see how to engage people around me and to invite them to a peacemaking-oriented way of proceeding.

The biggest thing that is generating anxiety is that I’m missing something… or a lot of somethings. I have a distinct amount of anxiety that there will be things that come up that I will be reacting to when I could’ve been proactive and engaged peacemaking practices. It’s this feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop that is not my preferred way of being in the world. While catching up and getting ahead in my work would be helpful towards remedying that sensation, I also think that part of the work I am invited to is curiosity for myself and preparation for how I’d like to respond in moments where I need to act whether unexpectedly or expectedly.

I was keenly aware, while walking the bridge, of how amazing an experience this was for the several thousand people who walked in 1965.  Most of them had participated in nonviolence training, and were completely dedicated to the principles of non-violence, and were willing to give their lives for the privilege of a democracy, and for the privilege of voting.
This reality was overwhelming for me. I realize how much I take for granted! My friends in Alabama have to go through a great deal in order to vote. I didn’t know it was so difficult.  They must complete a long application form in order to get a registration.   It is much easier for me here in Minnesota.

I am so deeply inspired by those who worked hard for the ability to vote, which in 1965 was already legal. And yet, here in 2024 voting rights are slowly being taken away for people of color and in many states around the south.  This causes deep sadness, and some anxiety, considering the upcoming elections and all that is at stake.

At the heart of our national divisions is the horror of slavery, which still has not been reckoned with… The spiritual fault lines of the Civil War are still with us.
My part in this big picture is so small. Yet, every time I travel with a new group of folks, I am amazed at all the learning….. several in this recent group acknowledged their white privilege, and their discomfort in many places along the journey. Yet, as we wrapped up with our discussion a few days ago, they were grateful for their discomfort. This gives me hope.

We persevere because the calling to guide students in their formative years in my life is empowered by an endless source of energy. I was given a prompt from the Holy Spirit back in 2003 to “warn everyone and admonish everyone in all wisdom, that you may present everyone perfect in Christ Jesus.” This path has led me to a life of discipling others on their journey, be they Christian or not. All humans deserve guidance on their journey to the end “…that their hearts may be encouraged, knit together in love, attaining all the riches of full assurance of understanding and the knowledge of God’s mystery, which is Christ, in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge.” This is the great hope to which I cling. This is the great hope guiding my work. And yet, anxiety finds a way in.

It is subtle, but I catch myself fearing…wait…I can’t think of anything. I think I am just attempting to make something up about which to be anxious. I am not, naturally, an anxious person. I know the challenges facing higher education but I don’t fear these challenges. I engage my calling as long as there are students. When there are no more students, or the institution asks me to leave (which I suppose creates a bit of anxiety within), I trust I will find others who are journeying and join them so their heart may be encouraged. God has set me on a path. While I remain in this body and have opportunity to engage others, I remain hopeful that God will meet us and God’s mystery will be revealed through our relationship. The one anxious thought that finds space in my life is “will the institution, or those with whom I journey, choose to part ways with me and no longer desire to be in relationship. This, alone, gives me sorrow and concern.

“Loving the earth, seeing what has been done to it, 

I grow sharp, I grow cold 

Where will the trilliums go, and the coltsfoot?  Where will the pond lilies go, to continue living their simple, penniless lives, lifting their faces of gold?

Impossible to believe we need so much as the world wants us to buy.

I have more clothes, lamps, dishes, paperclips, than I could possibly use before I die.  

Oh, I would like to live in an empty house, with vines for walls, and a carpet of grass.

No planks, no plastic, no fiberglass.

And I suppose sometime I will.

Old and cold I will lie apart

From all this buying and selling, with only the beautiful earth in my heart.”

I love this poem by Mary Oliver.  I feel sadness when I think of the “trilliums” having to leave. I recall the building of a major freeway near my childhood home and wondering where the animals would go now that their homes were turning to asphalt.

The phrase most meaningful to me from Lenore’s time with us was “Hope Is My Relative”.   When my travel group visited Pine Ridge Reservation in 2018 we were told we were relatives.   We were welcomed graciously.  In spite of the extreme poverty the residents shared their artwork, their stories, their history, their pride.  After so many years of suffering and tragedy I was deeply moved that we were accepted and welcomed, and given a tour of the Red Cloud school with open discussion of abuses.

It is tempting to dwell on the tragic loss of the trilliums.   We need to hear the stories of Turtle Island and listen carefully to native history and ways – this is one approach to moving toward healing the earth.  Most helpful to me is the encouragement to know what are the local issues – how can I/we get involved in creation care here in St Paul – here in Minnesota.   For me, asking “How can I be a good relative” means examining issues nearby and offering my time and compassion.

I used to hear the phrase “kids are so resilient” a lot, though I think perhaps it was more popular in the 90’s and I am thankful I don’t hear it much now. Now that we have children through adoption,that phrase sounds even more ridiculous. We know that this resilience isn’t so much a full recovery back to normal, but survival techniques built into the human psyche that are activated by hardships. We can thank God that He built this “resilience” into us, that enables us to survive so much trauma, but the long term consequences without healing are huge: the nervous system is on high alert, stress is building up in the body causing all kinds of chaos, and eventually, unless a person is able to revisit and process these traumas and form new neural pathways, the resilience can kill. 

What did I discover about the role of resistance and resilience in dismantling institutional racism?

1. I am reminded that my teachers of resilience and resistance are the marginalized, the ones suffering the most violence (and institutional racism), and I should look to them (as John said, reading is a way; listening) to learn
2. I will probably never develop resilience as deep as these teachers because I will not truly be the target of this violence or racism, and I may get tired more easily…
3. Beholding someone’s resilience/resistance can be a measure of the violence they have endured AND remind us of their inherent dignity as imago dei.
4. It led me to think about Jesus, whom God chose to “make perfect through suffering” and considering this for the injustice that it was. But what a mystery that God does choose to right the wrongs by creating beauty out of suffering… 

Now I am thinking of one of my favorite examples of the beauty of resistance/resilience: Vedran Smailović, also known as the cellist of Sarajevo. Or Tiananmen Square. It enabled the people suffering under attack to remember their own humanity, and gather strength to resist and to continue on. These examples teach me, and push me forward, too.

I took copious notes during John’s talk. I don’t know where to start. Resilience is moving upstream to stop the wrong rather than waiting for it to arrive and helping alleviate the burden in the moment. This is the difference expressed in acts of mercy vs. acts of justice. Resilience is more than surviving. Additionally, resilience is seeing a lack and working to fill it. But resilience is also recognizing abundance and working to share it. Surviving is a passive experience. Resilience takes action. It doesn’t simply get through hard times, resilience comes out stronger on the other side.

I have seen resilience in those who have come before. Those who persevere in the fight for justice on behalf of all people. I appreciate that John encouraged reading as a way to build resilience. Simply having him share with us was another exercise of my resilience muscle. It is too easy for me to engage my privilege as a while male and just stop. But hearing John’s stories and reading those of others inspire me to continue the work on their behalf. I’ve had my own setbacks in working for peace but when compared with the great cloud of witnesses that have gone before, I can’t help but press on. I must continue to work for equitable systems so that others never have to develop grit or resilience in order to thrive.

The problem with this particular conflict (and therefore, the catalyst for that which was brought into focus for me) was that this is not a conflict that I have a lot of power or control to change. Further, the roots of the conflict are particularly difficult for me to identify, so much of what I was able to name were symptoms rather than sources. 

However, sticking with this conflict even though it did not feel like the most straightforward way to learn the tool yielded some new insight that I found beneficial. This is a conflict in which I am deeply intertwined and yet I have very little power. It was not surprising to me that most of the power was held in other people. It also was not especially surprising that I was able to name one particular place that I do hold power in this conflict: namely, with my team as I am now the director. Not a surprise… but a helpful naming. This naming of my sphere of influence so concretely helped me settle into a truth that I may have intellectually been able to name but did not fully grasp. In this conflict, I cannot change a lot. I don’t have a lot of power to effect change in the root sources of the conflict… but, I can pour energy into my team. I can control how I engage with them, how I guide our collective focus and energy, and how I step into leadership. 

This tool brought into focus some good truth: I could spend my time spinning my wheels about the conflict which would likely lead to no change, or I could refuse to give it even more power and direct my focus to using the power I hold well within my sphere of influence.

I have had the opportunity to observe two ceremonies of gathering soil samples of lynching sites in my county.  The organization, Volusia Remembers Coalition, provided a powerful presentation so that we would visualize and feel the violence the victims of horrendous lynchings experienced.  As I visited the EJI Peace & Justice Memorial later that year, those stories stayed with me as I walked through reading the names of those who had been lynched.  They were not just names – they had a story…they were beloved and they had experienced violence. I need to always remember that there is a beloved person behind each victim of racism.  I need to learn their story.

As an everyday peacemaker, not only should I know the stories of violence and hate but I also have to dig deeper to hear and understand the stories of resistance and resilience.  Those are the stories that are often not told or are left out of the history books (especially here in Florida!). These are the stories that help me to see the targets of racial violence as images of God, as Beloved and not just victims.  These are the stories that will help me move from just expressing mercy to fighting for justice.

Can I be in conflict with someone I no longer see?

Am I in conflict with individuals or communities that run in different circles?

How might I stay open to repairing relationships while balancing this with the energy to be in the present relationships that I walk in each day?

I suppose the reality that I am asking these questions might indicate something stirring within and yet I also notice the need to discern how I use time and energy. When do I actively reengage with those from the past? How do I do this with open hands and an open heart that is truly rooted in love and not simply the desire to change this person? Is it ok to have a desire for the person to be encountered with a truth or new perspective I have experienced? Is it ok to let go of a relationship and move on in life?

Can conflict mapping be done without a context of regular relationship? Can it be applied to past conflict or just present relational conflicts?

Thoughts?