Sadly Resting

*** Originally written 4/21/23

I'm a fairly private person. I love to pray for others and help others but I often omit my own struggles and needs which creates a one-way relationship with many people who attempt to to befriend me. I've become a professional at handling things on-my-own, and not "bothering others" with my problems or disappointments.

I encountered a situation today in which I have been debating: Do I write about it? Or do I keep it to myself?

I decided to write about it below. If I offend you, be offended. Since this is my blog, I am going to write regardless of who I offend.

I stepped out of my comfort zone two months ago and applied for a two-year cohort at the Transforming Community with Ruth Haley Barton in Illinois. I wouldn't move to Illinois, but would travel there eight times over the course of the two years, experiencing and learning about spiritual practices to better stay connected to Jesus. 

Of all the subjects on my bookshelf, spiritual formation is one that is near and dear to my heart. I've always wanted to spend more time developing the skills to help people connect with God, experience the presence of Jesus and listen to the voice of the Spirit. Some of my favorite writers are Dallas Willard, Henri Nouwen, Richard Rohr, Ruth Haley Barton, Robert Mulholland, Adele Calhoun, and Peter Scazzero. I have some favorite theologians too, but the names above are writers in whose books I tend to read multiple times because they're not only informational, they're also transformational. 

The program was going to cost a bit more money that I was comfortable about so I began thinking about ways to raise money. I thought a super-fun way to raise some extra funds would be to have a garden sale with all the proceeds going toward my spiritual formation experience. 

My son-in-laws mother gave me a huge collection of succulent cuttings. My mother-in-law gave me some pretty pots, my daughter and son-in-law kept my plants alive while I've been traveling, I divided perennials, and planted vegetable seeds into 6-packs - I literally planted seeds in the hope of offsetting the cost of my next adventure.

My application was received in mid-March and then the wait began to see if I would be chosen.

I wrestled for the definition of "chosen" and tried my best to not get too hopeful. 

The trick was that in order for me to have a garden sale, I needed to get planting before I heard if I was accepted into the program or not. I got to work and planting and dividing. 

I tried to keep my emotions in check.

I tried to not get my hopes up.

The more my plants grew, the more my hope grew.

Today I received word that I was not accepted. 

Was it because my title is one of "Children's Pastor" and not a "Lead Pastor?" No.

Was it because I'm too old or too young? No.

Was it because the program is too full? No.

Oddly enough, it is because I am a woman.

I have to be honest - I'm really struggling with this. 

From my perspective, men have the world at their fingertips. Anything and everything is offered to them. 

Want to be a high executive - go for it. 

Want to be a Lead Pastor of a church - go for it. 

Want to lead a missionary trip to a country oversees - go for it.

I didn't get in because they want to make space for more men to be able to attend. 

Logically - I understand. 

Spiritually - it's a low jab for a woman who has been told her ENTIRE LIFE that I am not enough, not the 'right' gender - and now it continues. 

I get it. Maintaining a male/female balance is important. But really? 

I would have rather my rejection was due to anything else but gender. 

(I did contact the Transforming Center and fought for myself - which I don't typically do - and was allowed to participate.)

Reflective Ramblings about Abuse & Power

** Written 4/21/25 but too scared to publish until today.

Yesterday was Easter Sunday and it was my first time to preach the Resurrection story - TO ADULTS! 

I didn't take this lightly.

I have been silenced enough times in my ministry to know the gift to preach on this special day!

I am, and will probably always be, recovering from emotional and psychological abuse at the hands of church leaders and power structures. For 13-years I worked in a church culture that oppressed voices, suppressed questions, and gave full-power to the 'man-at-the-top.' My abuse was never sexual, but because it was not sexual I did not classify it as abuse. My experiences, though shared more often by women on staff, also happened to men so it wasn't necessarily a male-female thing either. It was a power-thing. A power THAT SHOULD NOT be a characteristic of the Church!

I look back now and recognize that my love for the Church hindered my ability to recognize abusive structures and also inhibited me from being honest about my experiences. It kept me from calling people out for their actions and words. I had been gaslit for so long, I completely believed that everything was my fault.

Here are some reflections to aid my own healing as well as help others recognize signs that they may not be in a safe and healthy church environment. The good work of Sunday does not cancel mid-week abuse. I remember loving my Sunday ministry, everything from setting up to praying with people, I loved Sundays and I loved the people! Then the work-week would begin and my skin crawled and heart raced. This was not a healthy culture.

When I left, I chose to quietly slip away. I looked at the projectile of the church and recognized we were on the verge of a construction project which would attract attention and no doubt bring new growth. Moving into a permanent home would be a season of excitement and looking toward a new future. I knew the new church building could cast a shadow over my departure so I could slip away without hurting the church's future or reputation. 

Seven years later, I think back and am horrified at my accommodating posture which so intertwined church-abuse and God's Mission-in-the-world that I chose to protect an abusive structure rather than confront it. I chose to slip away silently rather than raise my voice. I wonder how many others have been oppressed in this place under the banner of love.

But that's me TODAY being retrospective. 

Then I remember Connie in 2018, seven-years-ago, and I become less horrified and more sad. 

I remember my psychological, emotional, and physical health at that juncture in my life and remember I hardly had a voice left to use.

• I remember I was stuttering and would suddenly be unable to form sentences, especially under pressure and especially in certain people's presence. 
• I remember that my body kept breaking out in shingles. 
• I remember that I was using sticky notes everywhere because my brain was not working.
• I remember that my voice was literally quaking and growing quieter. 
• I remember feeling 'on-guard' at all times - like at any moment I would be attacked; ready to fight or flight at the drop of a hat.
• I remember I would physically shake and my heart would race when I parked my car, even before entering the office. 
• I remember I would pretend there was a waterfall between myself and my office doorway that would protect me.
• I remember I kept a baseball mitt on my desk to remind me to catch words that came in so I could consider the words before I allowed them to enter my heart.
• I remember the loneliness of knowing I could not talk to anyone about what I was experiencing except my husband. (If I wanted to talk, I need to follow Matthew 18 guidelines of first confronting my boss which, of course, would spiral me into a panic).

No one asked why I was leaving. I was given no exit interview. People figured it was my choice to leave; I was the one 'grasping' for another opportunity so the decision was mine.

No one knew anything and no one wanted to know anything. Best to continue to charades, the system of oppression, 'for the glory of God.'

As I've been reading the accusations against Rick Joiner, I keep revisiting myself in 2018 wondering what else I could have done? What can a victim do? How does this ever change?

The frustrating reality is that when most people recognize the abuse and find courage to finally leave, we leave not just our jobs, but we also loose our communities. I read a quote from Danielle Strickland this morning that, honestly, is more frustrating than comforting:

"When you have to choose between allegiance to a powerful leader/friend or supporting a victim of abuse...you choose the victim. Every. Time."

That sounds nice but the reality is no one does this. AND if they do, they live a life of isolation and rejection. The Crowd of the Powerful is so large, the average person does not dare to mount an assault knowing the pathetic attempt will 100% fail and they will experience an even greater separation. To side with the victim means you will lose your friends, lose your community, and lose your reputation. AND the power-leader you leave will actually be given MORE power on your exit because he will amass a swell of sympathy from his community because of the 'meanness' (even though it was in silence!) of your departure. This structure is so incredibly toxic and disgusting. 

A few of my friends left when I left my church seven years ago. They chose to side with the victim (as Danielle would say). But our decisions left us outside community. 

People who "side" with the victim, really do feel for them and may even leave for a while, but our deep desire for community pulls people back in and we choose to ignore the abuse and power-structure for the sake of belonging.

Can Church ever be a place of belonging without the power-structure? 

As fickle people during Passion Week, the Crowd chose an insurrectionist and murderer over Jesus. The people of Israel wanted a king so they could be just like all the surrounding nations. Why does human nature chose power and oppression? Do we really think that is the only way?

Lord, hear my prayer. 

There has got to be another way... 

A Tragic Collision

Yesterday I left my house at 5:30 to drive to my parents for dinner.

When I turned onto Bullard heading toward Temperance I saw numerous emergency vehicles in the westbound lanes. Traffic going east (my direction) had slowed to a crawl and cars were hugging the southern most lane to stay out-of-the-way of whatever was happening in the other lanes. 

My daughter and her husband live at that intersection and were also meeting me for dinner at my parents. My heart dropped as I slowly scanned the people, the cars, the scene - looking to see if any of my kids' vehicles were involved. 

I noticed a handful of cars pulled over in the midst of all the ambulances and fire trucks, thankfully none of the cars belonged to my kids. Strangely, though, no cars looked damaged. There was no glass or car parts on the road. No real sign of collision. But yet there was a younger lady sitting on the curb bent over in grief, sitting with a few other people. Between her reaction and the amount of emergency personnel I knew I was missing something.

And then I saw him.

A young man lying in the road.

Professionals were performing active CPR on him. I could tell he was young by the size and type of his shoes. I've been certified in CPR enough times to hope I never have to perform it. I could feel the heaviness and urgency of this moment.

He was not "my son," but my compassion overwhelmed me and my wailing and fervent praying began. From deep within me my mother's cry rose up and could not be quieted. Tear flowed as I interceded on behalf of this teenager.

Ten years ago I held a mother as she wept for her son who had just been lost to suicide. 

If you've ever heard a mother's cry at the death of her child it is one like no other. It is a cry that resonates the ground, stops the earth from spinning, and pierces the soul. A sound that ignites a compassionate response from any human within sound-range. It is a horrible sound. I was praying for a miracle, but my 'grieving-mom' cry overwhelmed me. 

..................................................

On my way home, two hours later, the road was still blocked. 

It was now a crime scene.

The young man, who I learned later was riding his bicycle, did not survive his injuries. Lord, in Your mercy, be tangibly near this child's family. May they experience You through the love, support and compassion of people. Hold this child's mother, his father, his siblings. As we wait to learn his name, be close to his friends and peers as they begin their journey of grief.

.................................................

And then there is the driver. I am confident she was not driving with the intent to hit a bicyclist. What kind of weight must she be feeling? Lord, in Your mercy, surround this woman with a circle of support. May she not live forever in a prison of guilt - make a way for mercy.

.................................................

Two families collided yesterday, just before 5:30. Both families and their communities have been impacted. 

I find myself still heavy with sadness today for the life that has tragically ended and the other life that has also changed her course, carrying a life-long sentence of grief, guilt, and regret. 

I pray the compassion, forgiveness, and presence of Jesus, experienced through one another, would be woven through this story as time unfolds.

Please join with me in praying for the family, friends, and community of this young man and praying also for the driver. May they feel surrounded and supported in the face of tragedy. 

Ash Wednesday Encouragement

Ash Wednesday Encouragement for 2025

I have always been fascinated by the mysteries of God uncovered by women and men who create spiritual rhythms (even seasons like Lent and Advent) to help us step into these mysteries by giving us handles to guide us along the way.

The guides I have read and experienced around Ash Wednesday emphasize this idea of dust and its connection to Genesis 3:19 speaking the words, "For you are dust and to dust you shall return." (NASB)

During most Ash Wednesday services, participants are invited to receive the imposition of ashes - a time when ashes are wiped on a person's forehead or hand in the form of a cross accompanied by the words from Genesis, "For you are dust and to dust you shall return." In a very tangible way, this sign of the cross on our foreheads is an acknowledgement of our humanity and finitude. We all will again be dust. 

I did not attend a Catholic or Orthodox church growing up. In my early 30's, as a protestant, I wanted to explore different expressions of faith so I began attending Ash Wednesday services. It was a new practice for me in a strange church filled with people I did not know. As a recipient, I would sit through songs and liturgy and then, at the end, would receive the ashes with the verbal reminder that I will again return to dust. Then my day would continue as usual and I would mostly forget about the cross-shape on my forehead. I did this for years alone, being drawn into the mystery that is Ash Wednesday and the Lenten Season.

Seven years ago I was given the gift of bestowing the ashes for the first time in my own Protestant church. 

As the giver of the ashes this time, I noticed a change in my focus.

The symbol I formed on foreheads - the shape of the cross - began to hold more weight than the words. Participating in this Ash Wednesday practice as part of a community together meant that I didn't get my ashes and walk out the door, but I hung around and talked with people who also had crosses on their foreheads. Seeing the crosses on others, instead of simply hearing the words, opened my eyes to a new depth of Ash Wednesday that I hadn't before realized.

What my Ash Wednesday journey has taught me is this: The Good News of Ash Wednesday is not in the ashes, but is in the sign of the cross.

Oftentimes, creative pastors (like myself!) enjoy guiding people into these dark spaces of reflection to best feel and identify with the strong emotions of our frailty and brokenness evoked in these places. Especially in contexts where the dark, hard, and ugly things of life are swept under the carpet, intentionally stepping into these spaces is a good practice.

But what happens when we're in a season surrounded by darkness?

What about when we are feeling hopeless and discouraged?

How do our Ash Wednesday services hold us in these raw moments of life? 

The 'words of comfort' (to dust you will return) we so readily speak over people on Ash Wednesday are dooms-dayish and might possibly leave the participant hopeless and discourage if it is separated from the work of Jesus. Our Ash Wednesday observances MUST be experienced through the cross.

Ash Wednesday is not simply a cool, spiritual experience to add to a collection of experiences. No. This is an experience to help us drop low into the dust of the earth, connecting with our humanity, acknowledging our frailty, reminding us of our desperate need of a Savior, all the while knowing Jesus holds us in the palm of his hands and will not leave us in the dust.

I'm convinced our encouragement to step into these dark places can be crippling to people already in the dark if it is not linked to Jesus who can help guide us back out.

40-days is the time Jesus spent in the wilderness fasting and praying.

40-days is the time between Ash Wednesday and Easter (not including Sabbath/Sundays).

But 40-days is a long time in the dark.

As I reflect on the tension I feel between Ash Wednesday being a melancholy tradition and our hope found in Jesus Christ, the Spirit brought my attention to Ezekiel 37 - a story of bones. In this text, the Spirit of God brings the prophet Ezekiel out into the desert and shows him a valley of dry bones. The Spirit asks Ezekiel the question, "Son of man, can these bones live?"

Being smarter than most 21st-Century theologians, the wise Ezekiel answers, "Sovereign Lord, you alone know."

Within the next verses that transpire, the Spirit of God lifts these bones and ashes up from the ground. The Spirit attaches sinews, tendons, and muscle; covers the bodies with flesh and skin before finally breathing life into this giant army.

Years later, Jesus also died. Jesus let go of His Spirit on the cross and succumbed to the curse of death that all of us will one day confront. Jesus' body was laid in a tomb to endure the slow decomposing into dust - but something tremendously different and wonderful occurred.

Just like the army of bones Ezekiel saw in the Old Testament, Jesus also experienced the breath of God breathing life back into his bones.

The Spirit of God used Jesus' material matter of this earth and recycled him into a New Creation. One that looked like a gardener with fresh dirt under his fingernails; recognizably Jesus one minute and unidentifiable the next. The tomb was empty because resurrection uses up our earthly matter to transform us into a New Creation in Jesus Christ. Resurrection uses the 'stuff of earth.'

As I reflect on identifying with my humanity and the ashes to which I will one day return, I connect the hope I have in the resurrection and New Creation found with the salvific work of Jesus as part of my narrative. The ashes are in the shape of the cross, after all. The cross is a significant part of Ash Wednesday.

Celebrating Ash Wednesday, separated from the cross, is hopeless and morbid. 

Honoring Ash Wednesday as a way to lean into our humanity, we are held by the Cross that tempers our fear of tomorrow and gives us a grounding hope that returning to ash will not be the end of our story just as it was not the end of Jesus' story. Our hope is in Jesus and we are comforted with the reminder that God will make all things new.

What's my encouragement in all this rambling?

As you receive ashes today, let us remember the hope of the resurrection we have in Christ Jesus. Let's enter into the barrenness and darkness of the desert with Jesus as our guide this Lenten season with our ears open to hear the reminder of our humanity, but also our eyes open to see the hope of the cruciform on our foreheads/hands - reminders that from dust we shall indeed return...but dust is not the end of our story anchored in Jesus. 

I hope everyone sitting in darkness today will also choose to step into celebration on April 20th (Easter) when we celebrate Jesus' resurrection when God begins a recycling program of epic proportions!

Happy Ash Wednesday!

Practicing the Muscle of Thankfulness

Happy November!

For years I have tried to participate in the Facebook challenge to type something I am thankful for every day in the month of November. Typically in October, to save me time, I make a list of 30 things, people, experiences that have brought me joy or to whom I am thankful. Then I can easily, without even thinking, check off my list each day and add each item to my profile page.

This year, as I've been on a journey of slowing down and embodying my life, I have taken the "Be Thankful" booklet I created last year and paired it with a version of the spiritual practice of Examen.

Examen. The spiritual practice of Examen directs us to come to the end of our day and examen the ways we have partnered with Jesus, missed an opportunity to partner with Jesus, or did our own thing entirely. It is a chance to observe our day, giving ourselves permission to confess those things we did or didn't do. This practice is for the purpose of becoming more aware and attentive for God's activity with us and provides us a chance to realign ourselves in Christ with God before heading to bed. Each day, Examen helps us become a little more like Jesus. (This is a great way to prepare for sleep.)

This year, my challenge to myself (and others) is to put these two practices together in a way that helps us become more aware of the presence of God and the many gifts of our life to which we can be thankful.

Here's how this works: At the end of our day, examen our day, thinking back on what has occurred to which we can be thankful. I may have run into a friend I haven't seen, had an encounter with a stranger, tasted a delicious dish, smelled a fragrant flower, heard a unique piece of music, or seen a stunning bright orange leaf! The possibilities are endless! The challenge is to be aware of those things that catch our senses and quicken our hearts. What are the things that make us stop in the middle of our routine? What brings us joy?

For example, I could easily add my daughter Anna's name to my Facebook Challenge. Or...I can wait and watch for when we experience life together - meeting up for dinner, playing a game together, or sharing a croissant. Now writing Anna's name (and what we did together) in my book on that day is an embodied thankfulness, and not just a mental activity.

As we take up this challenge to daily examen our lives, we will discover that we become more awake during the day to the things, people, and experiences that can actually fill us with joy and gratitude - if we have eyes to see them.

A Note When Darkness Surrounds Us. In 1 Thessalonians 5:18, the apostle Paul writes, "...give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus..." Paul is not saying to give thanks for our circumstances, but in the midst of them. It is a human experience to have days in which we are at a loss for even one reason to be grateful. In the middle of loss (of a job, a loved one, identity), cancer treatment, or negative health diagnosis, for example, little gifts of God's goodness are still all around us, they just may be harder to see in the midst of our darkness. If we can learn to look for them (they may be small!) and be grateful, we will experience an enfolding of the peace of God and joy in the Spirit we didn't think was possible in our situation. Being grateful is food for our souls and an assault against the voices that attempt to diminish our belovedness and silence us into spaces of isolation and despair. 

May this month's thankfulness challenge open our eyes to the many, many blessings in our lives as we become more aware of the Spirit's daily interactions with us and become people of thankfulness. 

Peace.

"Give thanks to the Lord for he is good. His love endures forever."

P.S. The booklet is simply a place for us to keep a journal of our thankfulness. I have a few directions and scriptures to ponder, but you can do this challenge in your own journal without needing my particular booklet!

When Less is More

Today I am packing for my fifth retreat with the Transforming Community. 

The person who packed for her first retreat June 2023 was a very different person than the person who is packing today.

In June, my backpack weighed a TON. 

My neck got sore walking through the airports.

My backpack was too big to fit under the seat. I lost a lot of leg room and had a hard time managing around crowds of people on the plane and in the airport.

I packed:

• My laptop (my retreat last June was a week out from VBS so any idle time would be put to good use, plus I planned to take notes at the retreat).
• Pounds of snacks in plastic re-usable containers (trail mix, peanut butter pretzels, 2 cut apples, peanut butter to-go cases, peanut M&M's, fruit snacks - just in case I got hungry!)
• A variety of pens, pencils, and highlighters (for all my reading and note-taking).
• 5-books I wanted to read but still hadn't gotten the chance (my flight was going to be super-productive!)
• My NASB full-size Bible as well as two journals (one for reflection and one for notes).
• A lightweight jacket and knit cap (in case it rained)
• Sunglasses and ballcap (in case our plane landed somewhere unexpected and we had to walk a ways from the plane to the airport)
• Plus a handful of small traveling items like airpods and chargers.

Trust me, my backpack was a force to be reckoned with!

On my first retreat I discovered this was going to be a "tech-free" space. No laptops. That's okay, I was tired anyway. I also learned that I was not a travel snacker so all that food I packed was not touched. While I tried to read some books, I didn't get very far.

Each consecutive retreat, I've packed less-and-less. 

The last retreat I even left my laptop at home!

As I am packing my backpack today, I am omitting my books (!), leaving behind my laptop (!!), skipping the snacks (!!!), and even leaving behind my Bible (!!!!). 

I'm coming into this retreat without the extra baggage and without the need to prepare for all the "what ifs" of life. (what if I get hungry?, what if it rains?, what if its sunny?, what if the airplane is cold? what if I have free time? what if I'm bored? what if I want to look up a word in Greek/Hebrew?)

Instead, I am simply coming.

No load on my back.

No gruesome weight on my shoulders.

I plan, instead, to not be productive - well, at least not the kind of productive that is measured by our standards today. The biggest item I'm carrying: a pillow.

In many ways, this slow peeling away of items from my backpack is a metaphor to the spiritual releasing that has been going on in my this last year. The weight of my backpack as I head to the airport is a physical reminder of the work the Spirit has been doing in my life and the peace and freedom that has come from laying things aside and just being me - without the worries, the expectations, or the fears.

In Mark chapter 6, Jesus is sending out the 12 disciples for the first time and gives them a list of instructions to follow:

These were his instructions: "Take nothing for the journey except a staff- no bread, no bag, no money in your belts. Wear sandals but not an extra shirt..."

Jesus' instructions are the epitome of trust! The disciples knew God would be their provider and would guide them. Trusting God (or others in that case!) is no small feat. Intentionally packing less is my step toward trusting God who declares, "do not worry." It is also my declaration that my identity does not come from all those items (expectations, jobs, accomplishments, failures, etc...) I carry on my back. Instead, I am choosing to come to this retreat as Simply Connie.

As I depart for my journey, I leave with less weight and a (nearly!) empty backpack (closer to Jesus' disciples) in the hope that I will have more "space" to receive from God and come home with my heart, soul, spirit
and mind full. 

Let Retreat #5 begin!

To "Affinity" and Beyond

Tonight I began a 7-week course called, "Living Undivided." 

I've let the topic of race sit mostly untouched for a year and am feeling the need to press into it again. 

Choosing to discuss emotional, personal, and potentially conflict-inducing topics is not something my personality type enjoys, but is, I believe, something all followers of Jesus are called to do. Contrary to popular opinion, ignoring topics because they may be volatile or not addressing an obvious difference of perspective/experience does not build healthy communities nor generate good will among us. 

I've also learned that (for me), simply reading a book about 'racism in America' is not going to challenge me in the way I am desiring - I need people-interaction. I need conversation. I need to sit and talk with an Imago Dei - the image of God expressed in a person who has a different background and experience than me. 

The "easy" thing: read a book.

The "hard" thing: talk with a person different than me.

Hence: I signed up for this class hoping to get into some uncomfortable conversations. 

One topic on my mind recently is the struggle of ethnic segregation on Sunday mornings. Decades ago, Dr. Martin Luther King described 11 am on Sunday morning as, "one of the most segregated hours..." I dare say not much has changed. There may be a few more outliers here and there, but in general, we're just as segregated as we were 60-years ago. Over the last 9-months, Bret and I have attended white church, black church, Armenian church, Mennonite church, Lao church, Hispanic church, and Ukraine church. Though we enjoyed many of these experiences, I feel like we're missing something... 

I've been thinking a lot about church these days; reflecting on what 'works' and what doesn't, what needs to be thrown out and what needs to be saved, what needs revamping and what needs to be burnt up. The topic of ethnicity and how our ethnicity connects and divides us has been stirring in my heart. As I began this class tonight, with church structure and culture on my brain, I was not surprised to have an experience to further my processing.

Over the course of the 7-weeks, participants will experience three types of groups:

1. Large Group - in this space, all participants share with the whole group about the topic at hand.

2. Small Groups - participants are strategically placed into 'mixed' groups with multiple ethnicities so that a variety of voices and perspectives can be heard.

3. Affinity Groups - participants gather into groups of like-minded/shared-experienced people. 

I noticed a huge difference in my experience between the Small and Affinity Group. In the Small Group, I didn't talk too much - I didn't want to over-talk and I was also worried I would say something that might be offensive and/or say something that might be hurtful. Though my intentions were not to hurt anyone, I am well aware of my hidden bias but don't know when it will show itself. 

My remedy =  not to talk! 

Then no one gets hurt and I've done nothing, "wrong." WRONG! I'm not going to get any better at engaging other people from other cultures if I don't put my foot in my mouth from time-to-time and learn from my mistakes...which is the very purpose of this class: to provide a safe space to learn to interact with people from different backgrounds.

In the Affinity Group, I had a much easier time sharing. I felt relaxed and comfortable...which brought my thoughts back to our segregated churches.

Do we create these segregated spaces because of our weariness of the "Small Group" experience during our week? Constantly watching our words and being careful of feelings indeed gets tiring. It's no wonder when we create spaces to be with the 'Family of God' that we're going to want to be part of a group that allows us to come out from behind our walls, relax and be together without having to explain or give a back-story. 

But do we experience change in Affinity Groups?

I joined a Fit Body Bootcamp six weeks ago and the coach continues to challenge us to add more weight. "The results are in the burn," he's always saying. If we want to get results, we can't passively choose what is easy, but instead we must push ourselves into discomfort - sometimes even pain.

Ruth Haley Barton from my Transforming Community talks extensively about being aware of where we feel resistance. Oftentimes, God is in those places of resistance desiring to open a door to some part of us that has been closed off to God's presence and is in need of transformation. 

To put all these thoughts together then:

I came face-to-face with the reality that though Affinity Groups are easier, we will not be transformed in those spaces. 

Though going to church with like-minded, similar experienced people will feel like family, the Kingdom of God offers a different challenge, a challenge to be transformed into the image of God. This happens in our interactions and relationships with people different than us. 

My thoughts progress to Acts and Galatians and consider the Early Church's struggle of incorporating Gentiles into their communities. Being a Jewish-Christian was hard enough, but having to relate to a Gentile-Christian was an entirely different level. The addition of Galatian-Christians forced the early Christians to consider what part of their faith was embedded in their culture and what was truly the Gospel. Should there be, "Jewish-Christians" and "Gentile-Christians?" Roman-Christians and "Corinthian-Christians?" Are there commonalities that link the groups together? Shaking out faith and culture is a challenge for all of us and needs to be something we are constantly re-evaluating to be sure we're not limiting the Gospel to our own cultural distinctions.

Interesting that this, "Living Undivided" class incorporates both types of groups, Small Group and Affinity Group, recognizing we do have a need to connect with people similar to us - as a place to take a breath and encourage each other - but offering the space where the real work is done - in the Small Group with a mix of people from different places and different experiences learning to listen, to talk, and to share life together. 

Affinity groups are great and fill a need, but growth and transformation happens in "affinity and beyond..."

or at least, that's what I took home as my lesson tonight. :)