Dear Reader,
I recently finished reading Demon Copperhead by Barbara Kingsolver and I can’t stop thinking about it. Although he was a minor character, the scenes with Mr. Dick really moved me. Born in impoverished Appalachia with a paralyzing spinal condition, Mr. Dick’s body was confined to a wheelchair. But his mind was free. He read books that took him to places he’d never travel, and contemplated the ideas of great teachers in whose classrooms he’d never sit. Demon Copperhead, the 14-year-old protagonist who bounced from one foster home to the next, lived with Mr. Dick’s family and described him as “gone” while reading. “He and that big book were not in this house, nor maybe this world.”
For individuals to grow in faith, James Fowler writes they must “encounter experiences or perspectives that lead to critical reflection on how their beliefs have formed or changed, and on how ‘relative’ they are to one’s particular group or background.” We need to “leave home” spiritually, psychologically, or physically to encounter people and perspectives different than those we’ve always known. Certainly, it takes courage. The world’s realities are painful, and we hoard comfort like a commodity. We don’t want to “leave home.”
For my doctoral thesis, I focused on James Fowler’s stages of faith development, based on psychologists Jean Piaget, Lawrence Kohlberg and Erik Erikson’s stages of human development. Through his research, Fowler discovered that most adults in American churches and synagogues find themselves in a state of equilibrium or stasis within the third (of six stages) of faith development. At this stage, individuals mirror or conform to the values and beliefs of their community. Fowler wrote in late 1970’s and 80’s, but the encouragement to grow through “leaving home” experiences still resonates.
Demon Copperhead transported me to southern Appalachia and the challenges faced by people who live there. I finished the audiobook while driving through West Virginia, my GPS diverting me from highway traffic to roads that twisted past small, run-down, mountain homes as I listened to Demon Copperhead’s story of poverty, foster care, and opioid addiction set in those mountains. It was an uncomfortable reality; societal problems exacerbated by powerful drug companies profiting off the poor.
After Mr. Dick finished a book, he ritually thanked its author. He’d pen his favorite lines from the book on a handmade kite, then cast those words on the wind. The day Demon Copperhead left for yet another foster home, he took the time to help Mr. Dick fly one of his “thank you” kites.
The string was pulling hard in the wind, but I towed it back to Mr. Dick and put it in his hand. “Hang on tight,” I said, and flopped on the ground beside him, panting like a dog. He was quiet, holding that string and kite with everything he had. The way he looked. Eyes raised up, body tethered by one long thread to the big stormy sky, the whole of him up there with his words, talking to whoever was listening. I’ve not seen a sight to match it.
It gives me hope to know that we can transcend the circumstances within which we are born—whether it be the challenge of poverty or the protection of privilege—through a mind and heart willing to be challenged, willing to grow and learn, willing to leave home.
Recent writing:
In my lectionary reflection for Easter Sunday, I write about the courage required of Christian disciples who must create the triumphant ending of Mark’s gospel.
After Super Bowl Sunday and the outcry in my progressive Christian circles over the “He Gets Us” ad campaign, I wrote this lectionary reflection wondering if faith was something we should publicly market.
I received a lot of positive feedback for my editorial in our February issue of the Outlook magazine on Purple Churches. This is a particularly challenging and divisive time for pastors and leaders, but progress cannot be made if leaders are conflict averse. Besides faith communities, where else in our society do people of diverse political perspectives voluntarily gather? Purple churches (with a mix of red Republicans and blue Democrats) present possibilities we shouldn’t avoid or forsake.
I learned a lot about Artificial Intelligence as we pulled together the March issue of the Outlook’s magazine. Artificial Intelligence reflects the ethics we teach it. In my editorial I wondered, what values do we want to pass on to AI? What religion? What theology? What image of humanity do we want reflected in the mirror of AI?
Books I’m loving:
I’m halfway through Christian Wiman’s Zero at the Bone: Fifty Entries Against Despair. I love Wiman’s books, but they can’t be read fast—there is simply too much in each sentence! Wiman is a poet, yet extremely well read in theology. One Saturday morning, while reading Zero at the Bone, I had to put the book down and email this quote to all my friends who love both words and the Word.
Do I think that sometimes life and language break each other open to change, that a rupture in one can be a rapture in the other, that sometimes there are, as it were, words underneath the words—even the very Word underneath the words? Yes, I do.
A friend gifted me a copy of Creativity, Inc: Overcoming the Unseen Forces that Stand in the Way of True Inspiration by the co-founder of Pixar, Ed Catmull. It’s a helpful read for any leader trying to build a work culture that is collaborative and creative, or a community that doesn’t fear failure, takes risks, and encourages growth through honest feedback.
I also recently finished Lori Gottlieb’s Maybe You Should Talk to Someone: A Therapist, Her Therapist, and Our Lives Revealed. This book was tender, human, wise, funny, and therapeutic all at once. Here’s some ‘therapist wisdom’ from Gottlieb that I flagged in my book for future reference:
In movies, therapist silences have become cliché, but it’s only in silence that people can truly hear themselves. Talking can keep people in their heads and safely away from their emotions. Being silent is like emptying the trash. When you stop tossing junk into the void—words, words, and more words—something important rises to the surface. And when the silence is a shared experience, it can be a gold mine for thoughts and feelings that the patient didn’t even know existed.
Upcoming speaking:
Wednesday, May 15: Preaching for opening worship of the Associated Church Press annual conference in Chicago, IL
Sunday, May 19: “The Injustice of White Silence” Fourth Presbyterian Church, Chicago, IL, adult education class; 11:00am in the Borwell Dining Room.
Let’s connect!
Is your book club or church reading Necessary Risks? Are you planning an educational event for your church, presbytery or synod that aligns with the theme of Necessary Risks: Challenges Privileged People Need to Face? I’d love to get you and your group on my schedule—just hit reply to start talking or contact me by clicking here.
We need to “leave home” spiritually, psychologically, or physically to encounter people and perspectives different than those we’ve always known. Certainly, it takes courage. The world’s realities are painful, and we hoard comfort like a commodity. We don’t want to “leave home.” - the crux of one of our central challenges for sure. Thank you for writing on this and sharing your recent inspiration around it! Does often seem we rarely leave home and instead are pushed/shoved/or otherwise removed from 'home' in order to discover the neccessary courage and notable growth. But, of course, some are like Mr Dick - "But his mind was free." Thank you again!