How did today’s (2/7) session heighten your hope, deepen your ache, or refine your pressing question?

Heighten my hope: Sitting with Ruth enriched my own commitment to leaning into conflict. My favorite gift from our time together was watching the way she embodies courage and joy in her work. I remain impressed that she could discuss deep conflict with a sense of calm, non-reactivity, and confidence. When I asked about her obvious joy in the face of conflict, Ruth mentioned that she has not been a stranger to pain, which allows her to keep things in perspective. I’m still mulling this over. I don’t consider myself a stranger to pain either– but I think I’m still in the process of learning to sit with pain without a need to move anybody. This has been a lesson I’ve revisited many times over, and I imagine one I’ll keep coming to throughout my life’s journey. My own experiences and professional training have taught me that there’s no short circuiting the healing process– and yet, I still love to reach for a solution that brings connection and harmony… (as quickly as possible, if I can!).

Deepen your ache: I don’t remember who said this in our meeting, but I wrote it down and it’s been something I’ve been tinkering with in my mind. “Our ache is not solvable. We’re not trying to solve it, we’re trying to deepen it.” Big oof. Feels connected to what I wrote above about pain. But my connections and thoughts about this aren’t super well-organized at this moment in time. I’m still very much in the middle of pondering or mindfully meandering this right now.

Refine your pressing question: Okay, full transparency. Every time we talk about our pressing question I think to myself, “Is my pressing question the same as it was the last time I thought about/answered this?” In some ways the idea of a pressing question feels a little intimidating to me. I know I have some big, pressing feelings, but I honestly don’t know if I’ve articulated those feelings using the same words to formulate a question. I do think my question(s) is/are becoming a little clearer to me– I think they are something like this:

1. How do we acknowledge the roles of power and privilege in conversations around reconciliation?
2. How do we honor agency and autonomy in reconciliation processes?
3. What do healthy boundaries in the context of reconciliation look like?
4. How do we encourage wise emotional labor when doing the work of reconciling/forgiving/peacemaking?

It felt good… and mysterious to meet everyone and to wonder: what will be born out of our coming together? Who will we all be 6 months from now? …for each other? Perhaps it is one of the few things that has given me hope in the last weeks, connecting with others who seek to find another way… a way out of the gospel of security and safety to a gospel of mercy and compassion (as someone in the group said). That, in itself, is significant—so few people around me seem to want to even want this…

Dr. Padilla DeBorst said that she has never known a period like this one, in its global implications and the chaos that’s being generated. I was grateful to her for expressing that. The timing of our cohort’s beginning feels important and also like a big challenge.

I was moved by Dr. Padilla DeBorst talking about the migrants’ journey up North… and now back down again (it was the going South that really hit me, because I can only imagine that there is nothing more discouraging than backtracking after shattered hopes). News and social media flood us with information, but hearing firsthand about her community’s house for migrants, now thrown into turmoil, felt grounding. So many words are spun in different directions, but hearing direct, lived experiences from someone navigating them with integrity was worth a lot.

I lived in France for 14 years. I was a privileged “immigrant” since I was there by choice and not out of need. At the same time, the annual renewal of my papers as a freelance musician was difficult and precarious. I was given a small taste of what it can be like to have your whole life questioned by a random person sitting behind a desk. The small doses of indifference (and sometimes cruelty) that I experienced in that system gave me a glimpse of what others endure a thousand times over.

I remember sitting for hours in big immigration rooms with desperate people (many from former French colonies in Africa or the Middle East), feeling the palpable fear in the air.… and I couldn’t understand why, because of my passport, the color of my skin, or the strength of my country’s currency… why should I be treated as a more worthy human by the system? Dr. Padilla DeBorst’s comments on Western narratives being seen as the only ones worth telling resonated deeply, thanks to these experiences and others.

There appears to be unending ways in which the people in power now are talking about our brothers and sisters (of all sorts) as if they were worthless, and that creates an ache in my gut that often verges on a feeling of nausea these days.

I am currently at a loss and seeking. “Lord, what would you have me do?” I don’t have any answers. So much of what was shared by Dr. Padilla DeBorst and by everyone felt important and I am grateful for that.

I was also touched by her take on Jesus healing the woman who was bleeding… that He not only healed her but He also “outed” her, in spite of her sense of shame around her condition…and that He did so to reintegrate her into society. These insights helped me to identify with her in an unexpected way. The society we live in now feels insane. May He re-integrate us now in unexpected ways that lifts us ALL up and renews our compassionate hearts.

““The Gospel of [American Way of Life Christianity] is a message of conformism, a message that, if not accepted, can at least be easily tolerated because it doesn’t disturb anybody. The racist can continue to be a racist, the exploiter can continue to be an exploiter, Christianity will be something that runs along life, but will not cut through it. A truncated Gospel is utterly insufficient as a basis for churches…It can only be the basis for unfaithful churches, for strongholds of racial and class discrimination, for religious clubs with a message that has no relevance to practical life in the social, the economic, and the political spheres.”

“The challenge is to the direction of our desires. If our direction is me, I will use circumstances and create conditions to guarantee my self-service. But ultimately it’s not about you and your own interests. It’s about you, the body of Christ or it’s nothing. We are Ubuntu – “I am because we are.” We are embedded in this ecosystem of relationships that need to be watered and tended and cared for. I have never made it if we don’t make it together.”

I am wrestling to understand how we might untether Christianity from cultural Christianity and decoupling our faith. This feels especially relevant in light of what is happening in America right now with the new where it feels like the Christian faith is being co-opted by people who might pull out a few verses to support their policies but don’t see the holistic thrust of the gospel that requires us to lay down our lives, our own privileges and self-interests for the good of the most marginalized among us. Going to this session helped me to refine a blog that I wrote and published on UniteBoston’s website last week. I’d love to hear your thoughts on it if you get the chance.

Ruth’s story around the pushback by other church leaders when she shared boldly about the need for a holistic gospel, not discounting people who suffer, and calling out theologies that justify violence was inspiring to me as I have experienced similar pushback by other Christians. Ruth’s presence also reminded me of the value of a communal faith, where we live and breathe the reality that “I am who I am because we are who we are.” While decoupling our faith from cultural Christianity is important, it can be overwhelming to think of where to begin. One thing I want to do is to press into relationships with people of color in my life so I can continue to see how I need to be re-shaped and refined to follow Jesus towards an authentic faith and practice.

Last, I wanted to share some guardrails that our team is drafting for centering on the gospel, as a step towards decoupling our faith from a White / Western way. There are a lot of people saying they are doing things in the name of Jesus Christ and it’s an important time to ensure all of us are walking in His ways. I’d love to get your thoughts on this, how you would edit or change this too!

GUARDRAILS / LITMUS TEST FOR CENTERING ON THE GOSPEL (DRAFT)

When considering promoting a particular event, article, or movement, we use the following questions to keep ourselves centered on the gospel of Jesus Christ. There may be times when leaders need to speak up publicly if we feel like significant concerns are brought up as we consider the answers to these questions:

• How does this event/practice align with the holistic thrust of Scripture? The life and character of Jesus Christ that Scripture witnesses to? 
• How does it align with Christian tradition and what those seeking to follow Jesus have believed and practiced over the centuries?
• Does it call us towards repentance, to confess the err of our ways, and to put our faith in Jesus Christ as the redeemer and restorer of all things?
• What is the “telos” or the end of this movement? Is the ultimate hope in a particular leader, policy, political party, or in God alone? 
• How does it align with the North Star – of loving God and neighbor? (The greatest commandment – “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and strength, and love your neighbor as yourself.” (Mt 22:39; Lk 10:27) and that “they will know that we are Christians by our love” (Jn 13:35)
• What kind of tone is embodied – one that stokes fear as “acts of the flesh,” (v. 20) including hatred, discord, rage, selfish ambition, dissensions, and factions, or brings forth the “fruit of the Spirit”: love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control? Is there a commitment to non-violence in posture and action?
• How does this movement portray people on the “other side?” Does it convey a sense of imago dei and belovedness to all of God’s children?
• Are we listening to the Holy Spirit? What is the Holy Spirit saying?
• Who is behind this event or movement? What do they have to gain or lose? Whose interest does it serve?
• What power differentials and systems are at play? Does it center or exploit the needs of the poor, marginalized, and oppressed? (See James Cone’s Christian Theology and Scripture are the Expression of God’s Liberating Activity for the Poor; Howard Thurman’s “Jesus and the Disinherited;” Reading the Bible from the Margins)
• What is the character of the people leading this movement? Are they people of deep faith, integrity, and humility?
• How is money stewarded in this organization or movement? Do they have strong practices of ethics and accountability?
• What type of public witness does this portray? Does it “smell” like Jesus? What would non-Christians think if they see this?

It was so energizing and hopeful to hear from Ruth because I want to tangibly participate in peacemaking in our world and she gave me the impression that we could join her (and others around the world) in this work. But then she casually mentioned that her husband was murdered and while I don’t know any of the circumstances around the murder, I froze as I realized the real consequences for upsetting the power structures and status quo. I felt challenged to count the cost.

I walked away from the cohort meeting reflecting on threat: both perceived threat and actual threat. I wondered how each is present in conflict and peacemaking. There are leaders in our world right now who are so driven by the perceived threat to their power that they are making decisions that harm those they are “leading” so they can hold onto their power.

Again, I wondered first if I have subconsciously clung to power at the cost to others. And then I reflected on experiences where I have come across as threatening to others. I wondered about how to become a “good threat” to power in a productive way that leads to liberation.

The primary emotion I felt while watching the session recording was hope. Honestly, I’ve been feeling overwhelmed lately—as I’m sure many of us are. My team is down two people at work, so I’m juggling multiple roles while trying to hire, barely staying afloat. On top of that, the news cycle feels disorienting and confusing. I struggle to find spaces where deeper, more nuanced, and informed discussions happen. To be honest, I probably just need to read less news.

This morning, watching the session and writing this response were on my to-do list, but I was tempted to dive straight into my overwhelming workload. That’s the lane I’ve been in lately, and it’s where my momentum naturally pulls me. But I felt the Lord gently encourage me to set that aside for a bit and start with this—perhaps as an exercise in trust. So I did, and I’m so glad!

Watching this week’s session was a breath of fresh air on many levels. I was deeply grateful for Ruth’s perspective and wisdom, which fostered a much more thoughtful and nuanced discussion. I also appreciated the opportunity to step away from the urgency of my tasks and gain some much-needed perspective. It makes me excited for what’s to come! I know it won’t always be comfortable, but I trust it will be good.

But this phrase; “we lament and resist”, offered by Dr. Padilla DeBorst, served to heighten my hope.  These words in tandem, working together, seem to me, an actionable plan for my participation in those spaces and conversations.  I can come to these conversations lamenting that often there is no awareness by others that they may be holding onto a misinterpretation of Jesus.  I can come to these conversations with the hope that humbly resisting the misinterpretation can be useful for God’s ongoing work in their hearts and minds.  I can be hopeful that this journey of learning, insight and understanding that I am on, is also meant to be shared with those God brings across my path!

In choosing, I hope to be someone who pushes back on the narrative that “might is right” and push back against the status quo or the “safe way”. In embracing risk, we also invite the kingdom of God to fully reveal itself here on earth. As we saw in the story of the Good Samaritan, a full “heaven on earth” image is seen through an embracing of risk, and a recognizing of the beloved-ness of each human.

I think that image is so beautiful. Caring for and being truly lock step with the one who does not look like me, think like me, or talk like me. As a person of privilege, I can choose to acknowledge the belovedness of the other or not. Let’s be people of risk friends. Bringers of the kingdom of heaven!

My wife and I teach Confirmation (6th-8th grade) together and a couple weeks ago we learned about the idea of “Freedom of a Christian”. We discussed how through Christ’s faithfulness we are set completely free from sin, shame, fear, and death, and this frees us for love, compassion, empathy, and service to our neighbors. Intellectually, the students seemed to grasp this concept well. They could share with us what this might actually look like … to use their freedom to benefit those around them, rather than themselves. Then we moved into small groups. In small group time, many of the students were rude and disrespectful to their fellow students and the adult leaders. They talked over one another. They said hurtful things to each other. After this class, I had one adult leader express to me that she didn’t know if she could continue in that role.

What is happening in and among our Confirmation students is a microcosm of what we are seeing in our communities and our nation. How can we claim to follow Jesus, who taught and demonstrated self-sacrificial love, humble service, welcome to the outsider, and yet selfishly grasp for power, wealth, and comfort, and at the same time, condone orders and policies that have and will harm millions of vulnerable people around the world? How do we as leaders bridge this gap between are minds and our hearts – between our beliefs and our actions?

This is my ever-deepening ache.

But silence doesn’t heal. Avoiding hard conversations doesn’t bridge divides. And while I long for peace, I am reminded that true peace isn’t found in avoiding conflict but in the presence of Christ within it.

I can’t force understanding. I can’t change hearts. But I can choose to show up—with courage and humility.

I’ve been reflecting on something Ruth Padilla DeBorst said: “The acquaintance of pain can be so good for our formation.” This ache I feel—it’s not wasted. It is shaping me, stretching me, teaching me to love in deeper ways. If I allow it, this pain can form me into someone who listens more tenderly, who holds space for others’ struggles, and who refuses to let differences define relationships.

Raising my voice doesn’t mean arguing my point louder. It doesn’t mean proving that I’m right. It means being willing to share my heart, to speak truth in love, and to refuse to let fear keep me from standing firm in my faith. But just as important, I’m learning that humility must walk alongside courage. Jesus, who had every right to correct and condemn, chose instead to engage with gentleness and grace. He asked questions. He listened. He met people where they were.

And as much as I long for my family to come together around the table again, I am also learning to consider their pain. What wounds have shaped their beliefs? What fears are hidden beneath their words? If I can allow their struggles to soften me rather than harden me, perhaps this ache will not just form me—but will also open the door for healing.

This tension is real, but so is my hope. And if I can choose to love boldly, listen humbly, and trust Him with the outcome, then maybe—even in our differences—we can still declare and display His love.

I thought of one of my takeaways from the work of Dr. Randy Woodley. He is a Native (Northern) American theologian, and he points out that in Indigenous culture an important value is that everyone we meet can bring us to a ‘conversion’. Everyone will reveal something new of our infinite Creator to us, and this is what Indigenous folks watch for. This is opposite of colonial Christian culture which says that if I read the right version of the Bible and believe the right things, then I am right about everything, ie – I bring conversion to all the ‘lost ones’. And all the ‘lost ones’ are wrong about everything, ie couldn’t possibly bring conversion to me. We white Christians are not great at curiosity as both Osheta and Jer pointed out in their books. Indigenous culture expects that their spirituality will cut through what they know so far and they will have to/get to learn and ‘be converted’ again and again.

I ache to live the Indigenous way in constant anticipation of small conversions brought by the ones I expect to learn from and especially from the ones I didn’t expect to learn from.

I wonder if this concept is present in Celtic/Irish spirituality, because I have noticed other similarities between Native American theology and Irish attitudes. It seems like the Irish maintain some of their Indigenous values. They have fought hard not to become like their British colonizers. (Just fyi, my Dad was born and raised in Ireland, and all of his brothers and sister stayed and raised their families there, so I have some personal experience and also a lot of holes in my knowledge.)