Yesterday one of the members of my Mutual Ministries Committee offered a strange blessing. In the midst of a conversation about where we are as a church and what this moment of transition might mean, the committee encouraged me to model the spontaneity I’ve been talking about.
The group mentioned that they appreciated my Sunday comments about why I was choosing to revisit certain texts and themes, the way I was open to an unscripted conversation with the community, and the possibilities of the rare moment in which we find ourselves. Then came the blessing. ”You’re free,” said one of the committee members. ”You’re free.”
This was followed by a chorus of voices encouraging me to continue departing from the script. You have asked us to be truly present to this moment, they said. Let’s do that.
I walked out of the meeting feeling strangely energized. We had closed with a prayer that we might see anew the ways we free each other and the ways we still hold each other back by falling into familiar forms and symbols without realizing that this is a time of rare gifts and opportunities.
With all of this in mind, I’ll introduce a few creative changes into my last weeks at Covenant. Some worship elements will move around and some will be temporarily shelved as we make room for real conversations. Consider with me a sermon dialogue during the service, a spontaneous and community led prayer, or a time for children when I talk to the kids about what it’s like to be a minister. This moment seems too good to miss. Let’s have some fun with it. Let’s leave room for it to be its own kind of blessing without trying to control it too carefully. This is a growing edge for Covenant. So let’s gather at the edge for a few weeks.
It is my custom to end every blog post with a question. This is one of my last posts for Covenant, and I pose a few questions that have been at the center of my experience here: What things do you grasp too tightly? What do you try to control? And how do you learn to loosen your grip, let go, and find the freedom that lies beyond certainty?
I can’t wait to read your answers. More importantly, I can’t wait to see you in church as we try a few new things.
With aloha,
J
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February 13, 2012 at 9:47 pm
Mike Luedde
Great! I look forward to some inspiring experiments.
I am slowly digesting the truth that “Humans plan, and God laughs!” It’s easy to say that we are to live in the present moment but difficult to do when the past wants to haunt us and the future makes demands. God, life, love, freedom are all found only in the now, and I have to keep learning this lesson. As an hippie told me at the corner of Haight and Ashbury in 1967, “Enjoy your now. That’s all there is.” Certainty is an illusion and the blessings are easily missed when I make it an idol…. Thanks for your questions.
February 13, 2012 at 10:44 pm
Paul Beedle
Oh, Jeremy! You ask these questions at a time in my life when there’s precious little to hold onto, very little in my control, little certainty, and everything’s on the edge. I am beyond certainty, and my freedom is limited. Getting – not loosening – my grip is my priority.
On the other hand, I’m grateful for everything I have – every resource, every friend, every opportunity. My future is unknown and the possibilities are abundant.
And there are things I’ve grasped too tightly. I suppose they boil down to misplaced priorities.
These days I find it’s important to be prepared to respond to new priorities as they arise. My range is limited: my changing priorities are usually related to some new challenge to my financial security. But I know that when my finances were more secure, I was less inclined to adjust my priorities. I made commitments that didn’t so much enrich my life as burden it, and rather than giving me energy burned it up.
My standard of living has been reduced, but I’m comfortable. When I get work again, I won’t rush to “improve my lifestyle.” I’ll save, so that I have the power to respond to new priorities. I look forward to having priorities that aren’t about financial survival. I look forward to the luxury of responding to priorities that are not only my own.
February 13, 2012 at 11:55 pm
Raymond
I think I hold on to some of the questions too long because the answer(s) may ask me to move in ways that are unsettling or unfamiliar.
I do believe that there is tremendous freedom in learning to let go. About sixteen years ago I was threatened to be outed at work during divorce proceedings if I did not agree to give up visitation rights to my daughter. It was not a difficult decision for me, but I was worried. So much of my identity had been formed around my professional role as a school leader. As I sat in the historic pews of Bering Memorial United Methodist on the Sunday morning before the week of the deposition of my superintendent, I was comforted and challenged by the words of Rev. Marilyn Meeker-Williams. She proclaimed that the things we hold on to most tightly are the things keeping us from a full life of change, growth and opportunity. I wept, but I also had the courage to accept whatever happened. That lesson has stuck with me. Be willing to let go of the things that you believe matter most. Otherwise, you will lose what really matters.
I’d like to think that I live up to this ideal every day, but I know I do not. I am constantly challenged, however, to reflect on the things (people, events, possessions) that I am holding too tightly.
February 14, 2012 at 2:01 am
Carl Gregg
I love when people challenge me with a specific way to experiment with something I’ve been saying (“encouraged me to model the spontaneity I’ve been talking about”). Whenever something like that happens, I think, “Wow, I’m so honored you’ve been listening closely and taking these ideas and practices seriously!” So, congrats to your committee! And I look forward to hearing more about how your experience with improvisation and “letting go” goes in the next few weeks if you have time to blog about it.
One of the most life-giving elements of my current congregation is that after the sermon (which I try to limit to 15 minutes), we pause for two minutes of contemplative silence at the end of the sermon. Then, I join the circle of those present and we transition into a time of open discussion (approximately 15 minutes) in response to the prompt, “What has resonated with you in worship this morning? Or what has intersected with your life or current events in the life of the world?”
This practice was inspired by a similar worship practice that I witnessed at St. Gregory of Nyssa Episcopal, which I highly recommend visiting for anyone passing through the Bay Area. As they say, “At St. Gregory’s, a sermon is literally not complete until the people who have listened to the preacher have their say.”
Also, on “letting go,” are you familiar with Peter Mayer’s song “The RIver”? Here’s an excerpt: “Still I clung to my rock tightly with conviction in my arms / Never looking at the stream to keep my mind from thoughts of harm / But the river kept on coming, kept on tugging at my legs / Till at last my fingers faltered, and I was swept away / So I’m going with the flow now, these relentless twists and bends / Acclimating to the motion, and a sense of being led / And this river’s like my body now, it carries me along / Through the ever-changing scenes and by the rocks that sing this song God is the river, swimmer / So let go.” He has so many incredible songs. You can listen to this one here if you’re interested and haven’t heard it before: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ha_G4M22TeY.
Blessings on your transition!
February 14, 2012 at 1:55 pm
Linda Phenix
Lately, I have come to more fully appreciate John Lennon’s quote, “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.” This quote may be over used, but it does not make it any less punchy or true. The humor and laser beam clarity of Lennon’s words challenge my notions about my plans for the future, everything from what I will do next Tuesday to what I will do next year.
Lennon’s quote makes me feel like I am the butt of a joke, but not in a mean way. I am reminded how human we are in our quest to control our lives. We have to make plans or nothing gets done. We have to have hope. After all, where are we without hope? We are creative beings and want to live in ideas and make contributions to society. In short, the show must go on, and we want to be a part of it.
We make things happen all the time from tiny tasks to the completion of major projects. But, then there are those forces beyond our control, which interrupt and even derail our planned journeys. These events can take our breath as we deal with the really hard stuff such as the death of a family member or friend or other catastrophic events. And yet, the show must go on, even if we don’t feel like being a part of it for a while.
In 2006, when my brother died suddenly, in my insane grief I asked God to give my family at least two years without another death in the family. (I cannot begin to address how ludicrous this was on so many levels.) I recall telling someone whom I love dearly at Covenant Church about my request to God. His reply was so John Lennonesque and perfect. He said, “You should have asked for more time.”
February 14, 2012 at 3:50 pm
kathleen cook
Questions from a quite old child:
You want to move the furniture? I’m used to it. I’ll bump into the table at night…
You say you’re leaving? Why now? I thought things were pretty good. What’s wrong with here?.
You want to stand over there, see the new vista, learn the new plants? Great!, but what about me? Why can’t I be the one to go?
You know if you go, you take my story, too. I’ll have to tell it again, and the one I tell it to won’t know me.
Sure, just as you say, a good thing, I’ll survive and thrive, and I wish the best for you, but way too hard!
February 14, 2012 at 6:54 pm
Jane Schorre
Well, Jeremy, my long practice of taiji has taught that letting go is a part of a circular process: give, receive, let go, be empty, open your heart, return to center. So this has, over time, become a way of being for me. Now, at this stage of life, I face letting go of life itself. I am the only one left of both my family and my husband’s family. While I wonder why I am still here, I feel more and more that I do not live as much as I am being lived. I feel it is not my life to lose. This is a letting go that is very freeing.
February 15, 2012 at 9:54 pm
Jason Phillips
“You’re free,” “you’re free.” Higher education says this liberating and terrifying statement to professors when it grants them tenure, which is the principle guarantee of academic freedom. Some professors abuse this freedom of course. Others see in tenure an opportunity to experiment, to push the envelope of their discipline, to reveal how uncertain knowledge really is. I like to think that I am embracing tenure as an invitation to be radical, but I confess that tenure has lured me to grasp my career too tightly. In tenure I want full control of my work. With white knuckles I grip the wheel that sets the course for my research, and my hands ache with each passing day. This may seem like a convoluted way to admit that I work too hard (and I do), but I’m confessing more than that. I’m confessing that even my work would be better if I learned to let it go.
February 17, 2012 at 3:19 am
Jennifer Moore
You’ve struck deep on this one, Jeremy. I touched upon this a little as a worship leader about a year ago. Tom calls me a “yippie”, combining yuppie and hippie, because while one part of me is a free-wheelin’, free-thinkin’, lovin’ kind of gal, another big part of me is a complete and total control freak. I have really struggled to find the balance between these seemingly non-compatible sides of my being. (And I’m sure my partner would say that it can be very difficult to live with them, too!).
I’ll just share a quick tale from my recent work life…For the past 2 years, I have felt more and more “out of control” as a classroom teacher. I feel like the district is imposing more and more structure, standards, expectations, documentation, scripted programs, etc. I am not alone in this feeling – I’ve talked with many teachers who feel like the creative-licensing is being stripped from education. A few weeks ago, we had a 4-day school week. I was “allowed” to put a hold on one of the programs we are implementing. This provided at least 45 minutes of “free time” in my day. I mixed things up: rearranged our subjects a bit, stepped off our tried-and-true path, read some books NOT on the syllabus. And let me tell you something: I had FUN! And the kids had FUN! And I was having so much fun that I was telling people about it.
For me, the lesson learned was, if I can manage to let go a little bit, it might be a whole lot easier to find the FUN again.
Let’s find the FUN together for the next few weeks. Sounds a lot more enjoyable than the alternative, doesn’t it?
February 17, 2012 at 10:04 pm
John Preston
Told Sara last Sunday that I felt like this was a funeral, and it is to many of us who love and appreciate you and Sara and Ian. But nothing is more transforming than a move…of the heart or the body or whatever, a MOVE. You are sharing your move and it’s deliberating freedom with all of us. This is going to be an emotional, sad, fun, roller coaster of a time. Hopefully I can learn to let go of the physical closeness of you and your family and embrace the phenomenal gift it has been to all of the Covenant community to have you as long as we did. God speed Jeremy!