church stuff
power is not like pie.
friday night my amazing & wise & passionate friend pam hogeweide was at the refuge for a really fun event centered on her book unladylike: resisting the injustice of inequality in the church. a listening party, it was a chance for women & men to share stories and process some of these tough issues of the oppression of women in the church. it was an amazing night & stirred up all kinds of loveliness. over the next few weeks i’ll try to write a few things that jumped out at me from what pam & others shared throughout the evening. pam didn’t specifically share this content, but a comment someone offered made me think of it, so i’ll start with this:
it’s all about power.
patriarchy in the church, in the world, isn’t just about male-centered leadership in our church system. it’s about who’s got the power because in our human-brains-who-have-to-bent-on-making-it-all-make-sense, it must be clear.
and making it clear means that we have to make it finite.
we think of it like a limited resource.
we think of it as being a certain size.
we think of it like a pie, with only so many pieces to slice up.
we think that when someone gets more power, that means someone else has to get less.
this is why when we think of men and women leading alongside each other, or any other underrepresented group stepping into greater leadership in some way, shape, or form, we default to needing to step aside to make room for others. we default to leaving the table so that others can sit at it. we default to silencing our voices so that others can use theirs.
some of that is true–when moving toward greater equality those with power will have to make some shifts to allow others to step into theirs. but if we’re not careful, we will end up in the same place we were before, where power shifts to a new group of people and the others are silenced and feel resentment and hurt.
in the kingdom of God, there’s another possibility.
power is not like pie at all.
instead, it’s more like loaves & fishes.
there’s this wild and beautiful and miraculous thing that can happen when we share it together. it multiplies. and multiplies.
on our little wacky refuge team, i have seen this in action. the more we are all more fully present, alive, engaged in who we are–male, female, in all our strengths in all our weaknesses–the more free we are, the more alive we are, the more the kingdom of God is reflected in community together. it’s been hard over the years because of a misperception of power as pie. if we live with the idea that there are only so many slices, then someone’s going to go hungry.
it doesn’t have to be that way. we need to re-think power. and respect that power diffusion doesn’t limit power but increases it.
the ways of God are not the ways of this world. that’s much of our problem. we have limited God. and we’ve shortchanged each other. our default to only living under or over another instead of alongside has jacked with our hope. we have adopted models of leadership in our churches that don’t require faith or relationship. we have adopted models of living together in community that are based on fear . we have adopted a spirit of scarcity instead of abundance.
and our ways have caused us to become controlling.
underneath control is fear.
systems of patriarchy are built on deeply grooved systems of fear and a belief that power is like pie, with only so much to go around.
Jesus came to break down these systems of fear & control & self-protection and liberate us all.
i completely understand that the world needs organizations where power must be limited, defined, and protected. that’s how it goes when there is work to be done and money to be made.
but the church should be different.
it should not reflect the power structures of the world. it should not be built on a spirit of fear and control but on a spirit of love and relationship and equality.
yes, we come with a bunch of different abilities and disabilities, and we are not all the same. it’s easy for us to say “it’s not possible”, that power issues are too complex and we’re in too deep to ever change it. but i’m one of those nutty people who is crazy enough to believe it’s possible.
i am seeing what can happen when we stop seeing power as pie and start trusting God to multiply what we’ve got and feed us all. when we stop seeing only so many seats at the table and keep adding in leaves. when we create spaces for men & women, black & white, gay & straight, rich & poor, to live alongside each other with equal value. when we empower each other in any way we can, respecting that we can’t expect everyone to be “fully alive” at the same time but what we can do is fan whatever life we can into flame.
yeah, in the world, power is like pie.
but in the kingdom of God, it’s much more like loaves and fishes, where all may eat and no one has to go hungry.
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of logs and stones
“let any one of you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.” john 8:7
“why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye?” luke 6:41
“do to others as you would have them do to you.” luke 6:31
* * * * *
i have been reflecting a lot about these words from Jesus this week in light of our conversation about equality.
i think they are possibly the least-applied-passages-that-could-actually-change-the-church in the Bible.
honestly, it’s a little comical, how much time and energy has been spent picking apart passages about homosexuality, of which there are few, and women in leadership in church, of which they are even fewer. book after book and blog after blog have been written about those ones, that’s for sure.
i wonder how come we prefer those to Jesus’ powerful words in the sermon on the mount? how we’d much rather talk about who’s right & who’s wrong than live out the beatitudes? how we’d much rather spend time & energy defending what’s a sin and what’s not a sin than feeding the hungry or loving the lonely?
umm, i’m pretty sure of that answer (and i’m not certain of much): it’s a helluva lot easier.
laying down stones, worrying about our own logs & treating others how we long to be treated is some seriously heavy lifting. one of the things i love the most about the 12 steps & recovery is that people are focused on our own stuff, not someone else’s. one of the most important rules of the process is to stick with our own struggles, our own hopes, our own work and do what we can to stay on our side of the street as best we can.
it’s really quite beautiful. and freeing.
and really hard to do in human skin that loves to control.
control is a way to protect ourselves, to distract ourselves from the bigger work of looking at our own painful patterns that keep robbing us of life, of love.
but offering ourselves in humility is what Jesus told us we needed to do–to worry about our own logs instead of anyone else’s. to worry about the inside of our cups not the outside. to offer mercy instead of sacrifices to satisfy the law. to love our neighbor instead of judge our neighbor.
my theory is we’d much rather talk theology and ministry theory than be spiritually transformed ourselves. it’s a great distraction.
spiritual and personal transformation is painful. loving our neighbor is easier said than done. loving God & ourselves, sometimes even harder. reading blogs & defending positions is a piece of cake. looking at the logs in our own eyes–pride & control & ego & self-protection & a whole-bunch-of-other-character-defects–isn’t nearly as fun as defending a couple of Bible verses to the bitter end.
i also wonder for all who love using the Bible in every conversation, how come not much time is spent on passages that challenge us on greed? or power and control? or comfort and pride? or sacrifical love? or humility?
those ones aren’t nearly as fun to rattle on about because they are seriously convicting in our own lives, not just the lives of others.
i get the irony here of me being a hypocrite, of pointing the finger, of throwing stones in a blog post but that’s about not doing that. and i guess in this moment i would say “yep, i often am”; but i’m being convicted, too.
i can’t help but think that the world is crying out for hope while we’re talking about theology.
people are starving while we’re feeding on blog debates.
women & children are being violated while we’re haggling over whether a woman should be called “director” or “pastor.”
refrigerators are empty & electricity is getting turned off for people while we’re giving money to pay for flat screen TV’s.
if we layed down our stones and worried about the sin in our own lives, i have a feeling we’d be having radically different conversations out here.
if we tended to the forest in our own eye and didn’t give the speck in our brother’s another glance, i have a feeling we’d be plenty busy.
i think Jesus told us these important words for a reason. he knew we’d much rather throw stones & worry about others’ specks than be radically transformed.
the church has so much it can learn from the 12 steps and the incredible wisdom of the beatitudes. they embody an attitude of humility & mercy & meekness & purity of heart instead of an attitude of pride & judgment & control & division & finger pointing.
they help us lay down our stones.
they help us focus on our own logs.
they help us let go of needing to be in control or be “right.”
they help us be set free.
free to follow Jesus instead of defend Jesus.
free to learn instead of have all the answers.
free to listen instead of talk.
free to love instead of hate.
God, help us lay down our stones & worry about our own big ol’ logs so we–your body here on earth–can be wonderfully transformed.
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well-behaved women won’t change the church
* most all of you have already read this post. it was part of ed cyzewski’s women in ministry series and got a lot of love. there are some really great comments over there. i had so much fun writing it and had no idea it would strike such a chord. it’s so encouraging! i am just posting it here now for my blog archives. here’s to all kinds of mis-behaving…
* * * * *
Years ago, if you looked up the definition of “Christian Good Girl”, I swear my picture would be right next to it. I was so good at being good! I knew how to keep the peace. I knew how to give people what they want. I know how to put my needs last. I knew how to say all the right things at the right time to sound really spiritual. I knew how to be nice.
Although I was not raised in a Christian home, when I turned my life over to Christ and joined his team, I found that all of the people-pleasing, peace-making, good-girl skills I had learned as a child of an alcoholic raised in chaos worked perfectly in the spiritual realm as well.
I earned all kinds of praise in the churches I was in for my good-girl-ness. Kathy’s so nice. Kathy’s such a team player. Kathy’s so easy to get along with.
None of these things were hard for me to do. They were like reflexes, a natural and immediate instinct to assess the situation, and then adjust to keep the peace and maintain whatever status quo needed to be maintained.
Over the years, though, as I started to do some personal healing work and begin to look at the unhealthy patterns in my life, something profound began to shift. I started to tell the truth about my own story. I started to not worry so much about what people thought. I started to advocate for others who couldn’t use their voices yet. I started to disagree. I started to use my voice and stir the pot about change in the church.
I started to worry more about pleasing God than pleasing man.
And guess what happened? Leaders didn’t like it. They liked me a lot better when I was following the rules, playing the good-girl game. A weird and subversive shift occurred when I started showing up more honestly, more passionately as a leader. The best words I can use to describe it are: “painful silence.”
In my situation, the painful silence lead to me losing a pastoral ministry job that I loved. The reality was that I was just not “good” enough, submissive enough, to be part of that system anymore. Honestly, if I could have switched back to the Good-Girl fast enough, I might have been able to save my job. Temporarily.
But I was too far gone. My soul and passion had started to come alive and I couldn’t turn back.
As difficult as that season was for me personally, professionally, and spiritually, I am so grateful for it because I learned the most important lesson of my life as a leader:
Well-behaved women won’t change the church.
We just won’t.
Well-behaved women will keep the wheels spinning on systems that keep working, keep growing, keep moving. We will do good and honorable work that matters and helps people and makes a difference in their communities.
But we won’t change the church.
Some people think the church doesn’t need changing; they’re fine with the way things are because it works for them. But I think there a lot more of us out here than even we ourselves know–passionate women who believe the body of Christ needs much more than a face-lift to become all it’s meant to be.
Yeah, well-behaved women will not change the church.
Instead, change in the church will come from not-so-well-behaved women who are willing to risk their pride, reputations, and “being liked” to stand for what God is stirring up in their hearts.
Change in the church will come when women who are called to lead, lead, even when others don’t think they can or should.
Change in the church will come when women refuse to squelch their gifts and begin to unleash them without asking for permission first.
Change in the church will come when women passionately follow Jesus, not systems-made-in-his-name-that-do-not-reflect-his-image.
Change in the church will come when women bravely use their voices, power, and any influence they have to inspire others to be brave, too.
I admit, it’s still sometimes hard for me to not be the good-girl. I miss the safety. I miss the praise. I miss the security, even if it was false. Some days I wish I could make nice like I used to because it was so much easier then.
But the Kingdom of God was never about easy. It was never about comfort. It was never about maintaining the status-quo. It was never about playing nice.
The Kingdom of God Jesus called us to participate in creating–here, now–isn’t well-behaved.
That’s reason enough for us not to be, either.
Read Morereframing crazy when it comes to church
how many times have you all heard me talk about our “crazy” little church, the refuge? and about how people i know who are doing all kinds of wild & beautiful missional things for the kingdom are a “little crazy but not alone”? or how “crazy” my life in the trenches is?
i use the word “crazy” all the time when i talk about life down here because compared to the big church machine, it is.
people really do think we are crazy (can’t tell you the number of people who say “i could never do what you guys do” like it’s some kind of weird anomaly in the church of Jesus Christ to actively love one another [that's crazy]). but the truth is that we’ve sort of adopted that language, too. that what we’re doing is somehow “crazy”.
i recently had a very short but lovely conversation with two missional church cultivators who are doing what we’d call “crazy” work, too. in the conversation one of them said, “i used to think we were crazy but then i started re-thinking it. i began to say, hey, we’re not the crazy ones here. read the gospels, this is so not crazy. that system is what’s crazy!”
“that system is what’s crazy!”
those words have really lingered and i’ve been thinking about them all week.
what if we reframed crazy when it comes to church?
what if instead of thinking that small-missional-communities-and-people-working-on-the-fringes-of-life-and-faith were crazy, we started thinking that maybe these things were actually crazy instead:
isn’t it a little crazy that in the church supposedly built upon the teachings of Jesus Christ that half of the population is silenced and kept underneath the other half?
isn’t it a little crazy that millions of people go to church each week and never talk to anyone past saying “hello” to a greeter?
isn’t it a little crazy that the same people who are marginalized on the outside of the church are marginalized on the inside, too?
isn’t it a little crazy that there is usually never a really poor person or a hurting person or a single mom on a board of elders?
isn’t it a little crazy that for the most part the pretty and the popular and the outwardly strong are the only ones we ever see or hear from up front?
isn’t it a little crazy that millions of dollars are spent on buildings & staff salaries while people in the congregations are on food stamps & medicaid?
isn’t it a little crazy how much money & energy & time is spent on dynamic teaching, amazing worship, and an awesome kids program that happens for one hour every week?
isn’t it a little crazy that every church has so many people with amazing gifts & passions & talents that not one person in their congregation even knows about?
isn’t it a little crazy that there are so many people who go to church each week but do not personally know one single poor person ?
isn’t it a little crazy that following Jesus has become about going to church & believing certain things & listening to certain radio stations or voting for certain candidates?
isn’t it a little crazy that pastors have to pay exorbitant amounts of money to seminaries to somehow become “qualified”?
isn’t it a little crazy that we don’t think this is crazy?
seriously, we need to reframe crazy when it comes to church!
a place where people can share openly about their addictions & struggles & hopes & doubts & fears. breaking the divide between us & them. women freely leading alongside men as equals. all welcome and not only until they’re actually honest. safe places for gifts to be fanned into flame with no power or control trips. a focus on living out the Bible instead of talking about the Bible. tangible ways to love & care & serve & learn how to be a friend. dialogue instead of passive listening. experiencing instead of watching.
i’m pretty sure when it comes to following Jesus these things aren’t supposed to be “crazy”.
to the world, yes. to the church built on his name, um, i don’t think so.
yeah, we so need to reframe crazy when it comes to church.
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well-behaved women won’t change the church
today i have a post up at ed cyzewski’s blog as part of his women in ministry series. it’s called well-behaved women won’t change the church. it was so fun to write this one!
here’s a little excerpt:
Well-behaved women won’t change the church.
We just won’t.
Well-behaved women will keep the wheels spinning on systems that keep working, keep growing, keep moving. We will do good and honorable work that matters and helps people and makes a difference in our communities.
But we won’t change the church.
Some people think the church doesn’t need changing; they’re fine with the way things are because it works for them. But I think there a lot more of us out here than even we ourselves know–passionate women who believe the body of Christ needs much more than a face-lift to become all it’s meant to be.
i hope you’ll go over there to read the entire post & you can share any thoughts there or here.
you can read the other posts in the series here:
also, thank you, everyone, for all of the honesty & hope & stories from this past week through comments & emails & conversations. i look forward to next week, too. if you’re new here or just catching up, the four posts this week centered on rebuilding after deconstructing faith are:
- intro – rebuilding after deconstruction
- 1. honoring the process
- 2. acknowledging losses
- 3. discovering what remains
have a great weekend. much peace & hope, kathy
Read Morewhen easter’s hard.
most of you already all know that i love easter because i’m always rambling about it. i’m definitely not alone on this one. it’s the most popular christian holiday & many more people-who-don’t-identify-with-the-Jesusy-part-of-easter love it, too, with all its chocolate & springtime & fun.
we already celebrated last night at the refuge (we get resurrection sunday about 12 hours earlier than everyone else because we gather on saturday nights). it was sweet & wild & fun, with one of my favorite songs ever and lovely stories of resurrection.
but these days i know more & more people who struggle with easter. in fact, they dread it. it’s become a sad day. a weird day. a disorienting day. a day where the reality of everything they’ve lost when it comes to faith & church is most evident.
today i wanted to honor the reality that while facebook & twitter & churches are abuzz with “he is risen!” and “hallelujahs!”, there are a lot of people who aren’t feeling it today.
and they’re not the people who are happily telling stories about the easter bunny, not at all concerned about going to church no matter how many times their neighbors invite them on christmas & easter. for those friends, they are free from the religious parts of easter.
rather, these current & sometimes-calling-themselves-former christians have spent countless years & hours & heart & time & energy investing in the churches they were part of. they were true believers, dedicated leaders, faithful followers. they were people who knew the Bible inside and out and loved God and people with their whole heart. they were the first ones there every easter sunday.
this is a group that are often forgotten on this day–ex-church-folks who long for the connection & community & hope that easter offers but can’t bring themselves to walk into any of them this year. they’re what my friend & compatriot in walking wounded: hope for those hurt by church, phyllis mathis, calls “allergic” to church, far beyond just not liking it.
it would be easy to dismiss them, and say “well, they just need to get over it, it’s just one hour” or “we can’t let them ruin our fun” without acknowledging that it really stinks when the luster of easter erodes and you find yourself out on the fringes of everything that once was familiar.
when the thought of walking into a church makes you feel a little sick.
when all of the words to the songs seem silly.
when you’re not sure what you believe about a lot of things you used to believe and so what’s easter supposed to mean then?
when the predictability of the sermons & the messages & the whole kit-and-kaboodle could potentially cause you to jump out of your seat and start screaming.
when nothing related to “church” feels safe or good right now.
i just wanted to say something out loud about it this easter instead of ignore it.
to remind my friends that even though i don’t know this exact feeling because i have my crazy community that is still a safe spot to celebrate easter, i hurt with you for the loss.
to acknowledge that it’s real and not crazy.
to say out loud that i really wish there were better options to hold a sacred space for this season of the spiritual journey that felt familiar enough.
to honor that it really sucks when the system hijacked so much of the good stuff and holds it hostage.
i am well aware that it’s never a great idea to write about something that i haven’t also experienced myself. but i also don’t want to be one of those people who just keeps walking past, so busy in my own little world that i don’t stop to acknowledge my brothers-and-sisters-who-have-lost-so-much.
most of all, my hope is that if you are hurting & lost this easter, that somehow, some way, some slivers of Hope & Resurrection come peeking through this year and you feel less alone.
peace & love from colorado.
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