Southwest Conference Blog

Good Enough Faith Keeps Coming Back

by Southwest Conference Minister, Rev. Dr. Bill Lyons, as preached at Scottsdale Congregational UCC on Easter Sunday, April 17, 2022

Easter presents real challenges. It has from the very beginning.

How exactly were the troops going to explain the disappeared body on their watch? Are they really going to tell their superiors: there was suddenly a great earthquake; for an angel of the Lord, descending from heaven, came and rolled back the stone and sat on it. His appearance was like lightning, and his clothing white as snow.

How were the women going to move the stone? And when they found the tomb opened already, imagine their shock and agony and fear!

Mary Magdalene didn’t wait for explanations. John tells us “she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.” Resurrection didn’t even enter Mary’s mind when she first visited the open tomb. The other women went inside and were perplexed. Messengers – one or two, no one quite remembered – on the stone or inside the vault, that got mixed up too – it’s tricky – but everyone agrees – messengers in dazzling clothes appeared out of nowhere and said, “Don’t be afraid. I know why you are here. The one you watched die three days ago is alive and He told you this would happen. Remember his words? By the way, he’s heading to Galilee and you can see him there.”

That last line in the angels’ message sounds like a set up. Go to Galilee?! Where Herod ruled and John the Baptizer lost his head?! Jesus’s followers had been in hiding for the last three days. They had plenty of examples of what Roman troops did to the friends of people who had been crucified. And now with the body missing, who do you think the troops identified as ‘people of interest’ in connection with all of this? That’s more than tricky!

Two disciples took the risk and ventured out – back to the cemetery. One went inside; one didn’t. No telling who was in there waiting for them. No angels this time, just a pile of grave wrappings and a shroud folded neatly on the niche where Jesus’s body should have been. Well, part of the women’s story was accurate, anyway. I wonder if they looked at Mary who stood outside the tomb and thought. “Did you women stage this? How did you manage it? Where did you put the body? Do you realize what will happen if the troops find out?!”

Nobody believed the women. The first resurrection sermon had no takers. Talk about a problem with Easter!

Mary stayed at the tomb after everyone else left. It’s the last place she’d see her Lord. She was looking for answers. She was looking for Jesus, albeit a dead Jesus. When she found him she couldn’t see him even when the living Jesus, a man she’d spent years following and living in community with, stood right in front of her talking. Her faith wasn’t ready for that. But she’d come back. And when Jesus said her name, she believed!

It took Mary two visits to accept the living Christ. It’s not how many visits it took that mattered. What’s important is that she came back, kept looking, kept listening.

It’s not always in church that we find ourselves re-visiting his tomb or that we hear Jesus say our name.

Ambulance attendants wheeled him into room 14 – the resuscitation suite. He had been found in a doorway of a downtown building unresponsive. The clinical signs told us he had been dead for quite some time. Still, the ER team did everything possible. Then the moment came to stop the effort, and a time of death was pronounced by the attending physician.

An hour or so later the deceased man’s family members and friends began arriving at the hospital and I was called to meet them. They cried and held each other and began to pray and to sing. Their pastor arrived and anointed the body. Then she turned to me and said in broken English, “You tell doctor shock him and he will live now.”

In the break room the attending physician looked at me with wide eyes. “WOW! Chaplain, if they can bring him back with prayer, I’ll start going to church.”

“Doc, I go to church because I know one man God brought back after three days. But right now, I need you to come in and explain to his family that this man has already been shocked and is gone. I’ll take it from there.”

The doctor shook his head. He was well aware that only doctors were permitted to share medical information with families. So, he explained the reality of the team’s resuscitation efforts and the certainty of biological death compassionately and succinctly. The pastor looked right at him and said, “We prayed. You shock him and he will live now.”

Usually when docs finished that kind of conversation, they left the room and let the support team facilitate a grieving process. But this time the doc stepped back, leaned against the wall, crossed his arms, and was as attentive as every family member there. I offered my sincere respect and appreciation for the family and the pastor’s faith in a God who could raise the dead. I too believed in that God. I knew in the end everyone who died trusting Jesus will live again. And I also knew that sometimes, as possible as a resurrection is, God takes a person to live where God is. Silence. Startlingly the pastor responded with jubílense, “¡Alabado sea Dios, se ha ido a casa!” “Praise God, he’s gone home!” and she began to pray.

I heard his pager go off during the prayer, and when I looked up the doc was gone. He found me later and said he didn’t mean to be rude and walk out in the middle of a prayer. I said to him, “What I noticed was this time you stayed for the spiritual explanation of your patient dying.” He looked at me and smiled. “You noticed that, did you.” And then one of our pagers went off…

I wonder, how many trips to Jesus’s tomb we make over time? How have your expectations or questions about what you’ll find there changed since your last visit? Maybe you decided to visit Jesus’s empty tomb this morning wondering. “How?!” Or maybe you’re at the empty tomb again not having thought much about what you’d find – an obstacle or an opening, the expected or a surprise.

Maybe the resurrection seems “like an idle tale” – dazzling extraterrestrials, a three-days-dead corpse walking and talking – the same way the testimony of the women fell on the ears of the disciples.

Maybe you’ve been trying to “remember what he told you,” a faith from childhood, lessons from catechism, or a loved one’s witness.

Perhaps the angelic questions resonate with you. “Why are you looking for the living among the dead?” “Who are you looking for?” [pause] “Who are you looking for?”

Maybe you’re waiting for an invitation to “come and see,” to take a closer look at this place where Jesus is supposed to be found.

Perchance, like Peter,– you’ve seen and still aren’t ready to step in. Or maybe like John – you believe but just aren’t sure how to explain it all.

Or like Mary, you’ve been here before. You’re back because wondering why Jesus isn’t where you thought he’d be, asking questions, making bargains.

It’s even possible all of this leaves you at a loss for words and afraid.

It’s equally possible you heard Jesus say your name once, and you just want to hear it again.

Maybe Easter, is, for you, a day to say, “Alleluia! I’ve seen the Lord!!

Whatever brings you to the empty tomb this time, wherever you find yourself in the story, what matters is you are here! That’s good enough!! Surely there’s room for all of us to grow in our faith. Easter is for celebrating that whatever faith we have in the living Jesus, that’s good enough. Because whatever else we aren’t sure of in our faith, we can be certain of this: Jesus is alive enough to have brought you back. How much more alive does he need to be? Easter faith is good enough when it keeps us coming back. Christ is risen!

He is risen indeed!!

On Seeing Bucha

by Rev. John Indermark

Seeing Bucha

On Sunday, its liturgy was blasphemous

An old man lying alongside his bike

Plastic ties around wrists that preceded the kill shot

A hand and a foot exposed from the sand half-filling a trench

Seeing Bucha

The very name stung with reverberations

In German, buche is the word for “beech tree”

In German, wald is the word for “forest”

In Germany, Buchenwald carried out the genocidal fever of Nazis

In Ukraine, Bucha endured the same

Seeing Bucha

Recalled for me the story told by Elie Wiesel in Night

A teenager himself imprisoned in Auschwitz,

Wiesel and the rest of the camp witness the hanging of three prisoners

One of them is a boy

Whose dying exceeds half an hour because of his small size

As the agony stretches on, a man behind Wiesel asks outloud

For God’s sake, where is God?

Wiesel reports that he then heard a small voice inside him answer:

Where is He? This is where – hanging here from this gallows . . .

Seeing Bucha

God is seen – in an old man, in bound wrists, in a sandy trench

For if God is not there, God will never be seen.

The Art of Blessing

by Rev. Lynne Hinton

One Sunday at church a parishioner brought me a ball cap with her favorite NASCAR racer’s name embroidered on it. She wanted me to bless it because she was worried about the driver. She was only teasing and I simply heard her story and held the hat for a second. I didn’t so much try to ease her concerns with a prayer as I did listen to her, but her request did remind me of the real reason I love being a pastor.

If I were to explain why I most enjoy being an ordained minister, it wouldn’t be the preaching or the administrative responsibilities; it wouldn’t be the pastoral visits to the hospitals or nursing homes or the teaching of scriptures. I enjoy being a pastor because I love being called upon to bless things.

In the more than 25 years since my ordination into professional ministry, I have been called upon to bless lots of things and all kinds of events. I have blessed marriages and unions, meetings of the many and the few, animals of all shapes and sizes, life arriving and life passing, houses, doorways, and even a porch swing for a hospice patient afraid of some evil spirit that hovered near. I have blessed barren fields in winter and bountiful summer harvests, rain and sun, honorable choices to leave and to stay, foreheads on Ash Wednesdays, mended hearts, surgeries and the healing of every kind of disease and discontent. I have touched fevered brows and small cherub cheeks, skinned knees and burdened backs. I have blessed cookies and milk, pots of green chile stew, and long tables filled with casseroles, Jell-O salads, barbeque, fried chicken, and a variety of frosted cakes. And in all that time, it has always been my deepest pleasure to lead a person or a gathering into the consideration of being blessed.

I don’t bless because I think I am more qualified than anyone else to pray over potluck suppers, community gatherings, or crying babies. I do not consider myself more special or more knowledgeable than anyone else. In fact, much of the time, when I am called upon for a blessing I glance around the room and find many others who could do and have done a better job than I. But blessing stuff comes with the territory when you are a minister. Just as we look to the nurse or doctor to step in when someone faints or we look to a teenager for help with the computer, just as we ask the mechanic for tips on engine maintenance for our automobiles, we expect the minister to bless us.

The American Heritage Dictionary defines blessing as “an expression of good wishes. A special favor granted by God,” and “anything contributing to happiness.” I think of a blessing as simply calling attention to that which is wonderful, to a person or event or animal or memory or dream that makes us smile. To be blessed is to acknowledge that even if everything around us is empty, we are able to see that actually our cups are running over. It is to stop everyone from brushing aside life. It is to keep us from missing the splendid. It is to say, “hey, wait a minute, this is fabulous life happening here! This is a moment you will want to remember! This, for all its ordinariness, this is sacred. This is blessed.”

I didn’t ask for favor on my parishioner’s favorite racecar driver when I took the hat from her, but I did smile and thank God that she has something in her life that brings her delight, something that connects her to the world, something that engages and pleases her. The fact that she has found a little pleasure is in itself a great blessing. And I am the fortunate one who gets asked to call attention to it.

Common Tables

by Southwest Conference Minister Rev. Dr. Bill Lyons; the following is his keynote at the Common Tables interfaith prayer and networking luncheon at the Arizona State Capitol on Tuesday, March 29, 2022

Inviting everyone to the table is something between a buzz phrase and an overused platitude these days. We say it with the best of intentions trying to counter a hyper-polarized culture and the long-practiced injustice of exclusion. But what do we really mean when we invite people to the table?

“JOIN US” – WE WANT THEM TO FIT IN

There are the “join us” invitations. Sometimes we invite people to table because the time has come to acknowledge and interrupt the prejudices and biases that have silenced the voices of our neighbors. We feel embarrassed by the racism, sexism, ageism, classism, or heterosexism any one of a host of other ‘isms,’ and we want to stop the privilege, supremacy, and outright hate that have othered people to the margins. Our invitation to join us is intended to be an expression of our commitments to equal opportunity and fair treatment.

When people accept our “join us” invitation, we are quick to celebrate demographic diversity and the promotion of fair and equal treatment. But the celebration often comes too soon – before anyone new at the table has a chance to say anything. It really wasn’t their voices we valued or wanted among us, it was their numbers, their bodies if I may be so bold, something we could count, not someone to whom we wanted to listen or who might possibly change us. We wanted them to join us, to join US. The expectation was that if people can just share a common table everyone will realize “they are just like each other.” What we hold in common is idealized. The ways in which we are different get subverted to preserve harmony and avoid conflict. The tacit assumption in an invitation to “join us” is that “’we are all the same’ or ‘we aspire to being all the same.’” Because, after all aren’t we all the same in our deepest humanity? And the answer to that is most assuredly no.

BRING A DISH TO SHARE – WE WANT WHAT THEY BRING WITH THEM.

Then there are times we invite people to table with what I call a “bring-a-dish-to-share” invitations. A leader notices that the world around them is becoming a more diverse place while the organization they lead isn’t. Think of the business that wants or needs new markets, the church that needs new members, or the party that needs new voters in order to expand, or to remain viable, or to survive. Fear takes root – the fear of losing. The objective of bringing more voices, new voices, diverse voices to the table is really to gain access to or legitimacy with a more diverse clientele or constituency. The very qualities, characteristics, competencies and contributions that lead to that access or legitimacy are pigeon-holed rather than integrated. Integrating new voices would mean changing the way we do things, or even changing ourselves. Instead, people are exploited rather than being affirmed to bring their whole selves – culture, language, art, beliefs, orientation, and identity – to t e table. When that realization sets in people begin to feel devalued. Bring-a-dish-to-share invitations are born out of the desire to win. Practitioners of access-and-legitimacy diversity fail to realize that they’ve lost the long game.

“COME AS YOU ARE” – ONLY WITH YOU CAN WE BE OUR BEST SELVES TOGETHER.

When we are at our best – faith leaders, business leaders, political leaders, any leaders – we invite people to table with “come as you are” invitations. We are intentional, asking people to bring their whole selves to the conversation. We listen for understanding, not for the best way to make our next point. Together we are mindful that “I cannot remain the same because you have joined me at table.” Differences are not simply valued; they are integrated into everything that happens around the table. And at our very best selves, we tear down the old tables and build new ones together – tables of different substance and different quality.

My faith teaches me that in my humanity I begin to hear the infinite God whom I serve and worship by connecting with and listening to the voices outside myself, as many of them as possible. No voice from the margins can be excluded from the table without risking an unheard word from God, for God has habit of siding with the oppressed.

Today we are being offered “come as you are” invitations. The goal is building relationships in which prophetic calls can be issued and just actions taken. This is a time to be our best selves, to listen one another into understanding, to integrate the differences among us, to set aside our need for a personal win and join the effort for a team victory – the human team, by committing ourselves to building new tables of substance and quality. This is time to break bread together, and without trying to break one another, to find ways of including rather than excluding and therefor silencing as many voices as possible in our democracy, beginning in voting booths, extending to our borders, through the forging an economy that promotes personal dignity, by creating opportunities for rehabilitation, offering forgiveness, and removing stigma. Come as you are. Bring your culture, language, beliefs, and experiences. Be courageous and vulnerable. Together let us end our time together today better for it.

I think I’m a little strange…

by Rev. Deb Worley

“Let us now confess our sin…”

This is from [the 3/13/2022] worship service, as the introduction to our time of confession. I think this time each week is so important, so critical, so potentially powerful! I love it. For myself. And for our community. And yes, I know–I’m a little strange that way… But bear with me. I think there’s a chance you just might come to love it, too…

“I know we’re just a little ways into our worship this morning, but I’m going to do a quick review. So far I and we have said the following words:
‘Grace and peace to you in the name of Jesus Christ!’
‘God is good, all the time!’
‘…with God on my side I’m fearless, afraid of no one and nothing.’
Whether it’s because we are in Lent, or because of what’s going on in the world, or because of other things that are stirring in my soul, I find myself asking myself (and not for the first time!), do those words –Grace…peace…God-is-good…fearless–really mean anything?

And then I answer myself, Of course they do.

But then I wonder, what? What do they really mean? How do they really affect my day-to-day life? Because they have to. They have to.

At the core of my identity is that I am a person of faith, a beloved child of God. Those words have to make a difference in the living of my life. Or they are just words….

And they are not just words—grace…peace…God-is-good…fearless—they are powerful truths about the Reality of God, the Kingdom of God, the Possibilities of God!

And as I, and we, live into the reality of these truths, as we live more and more out of these truths, I have to believe that the Kingdom of God will grow. Bit by tiny bit, moment by singular moment, interaction by individual interaction. But it will grow…

One part of that process of living into the reality of those truths–just one part—but it’s a significant part—is owning our sin. Yep, that’s another word that’s not just a word but a powerful truth—sin.

And unlike “grace” and “peace” and “Good-is-good!” it’s one we don’t like to think or talk about much.

But our not-thinking-or-talking-about-it-much—or at least the depth of the reality of it—is, I am convinced, part of what keeps us from living more deeply into God’s grace and peace and goodness!

Our reluctance to admit those things with which we struggle, those things around which we feel shame, those things for which we have either stepped deliberately off or fallen accidentally off the path of love and healing—all of those things that keep us distant from one another, from our true selves, from God—our reluctance to acknowledge, to admit, to confess those things is part of what keeps things like “grace” and “peace” and the goodness of God as simply nice words rather than deeply profound truths.

Our reluctance to consider the truth and power of our sin, both individually and corporately, is part of what keeps us from accessing and living into the truth and power of God’s grace and peace and goodness.

So(!)…now’s our chance. A chance. A chance to get real about our sin. In these moments, we have a chance to ‘fess up, to God and to ourselves—and in a few moments, to and with one another—our mistakes, our failings, our screw-ups. Our struggles, our secrets, our shame. Or even just one of those, if that’s where you need to begin.

As we do that, God can begin remove the weight of all of that from us, look us in the eyes, and whisper to us, “I know. And I still love you. Now get up and try again.”

And in that, we will begin to experience the reality of God’s goodness and peace more deeply. And those words will become truths. And God’s Kingdom will grow, first within us and then in the world around us, bit by tiny bit, moment by singular moment, interaction by individual interaction.

There is real power available in the act of confessing our sin.

I invite you now, as beloved children of God, to join me for a few moments of silent confession.

Let us pray…

And of course, a time of confession is not complete without what I like to call an Assurance of Belovedness. So know, dear one, that even in the face of full admission of your sin (or as “full” as you can muster at the moment), you are deeply and utterly loved. Always. Forever. No matter what. Know that in the name of Jesus Christ, you are forgiven! Get up and get living!

—————————–
So–what do you think? Do you love it?? If not yet, keep trying. Keep returning to it. You just might surprise yourself one day…and love it.

Or maybe I’m just a little strange that way… 🙂
Deb

If It Dies, It Produces Many Seeds

by Rev. Victoria Ubben

Scripture: Jesus said, “Very truly I tell you, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds.” (John 12:24)

Two things become unmistakably clear from John’s Gospel lesson. One is that transformation is difficult. And transformation is glorious. So, the question is “What needs to be transformed (or die) in you during this season of Lent so that something new can be born?”

Just about three years ago, I represented our United Church of Christ on an agricultural mission trip to visit three indigenous communities in Guatemala. Six years prior to this, Growing Hope Globally had worked with several mission partners to teach women to farm in their communities (as many of the men had migrated, leaving women and children behind in these three villages). With an absence of men, plus obvious effects of climate change in the region, people were malnourished and starving. The purpose of our trip was to follow-up on the progress (and success) of these new farming techniques.

A brief (and simplified) history: The Guatemalan Civil War ran from 1960 to 1996. It was fought between the government of Guatemala and the rural poor (many of whom are ethnic Maya indigenous people and ladino peasants). After the Guatemalan conflict, when the natives came out of the jungle where they had been hiding, they began to look for their lost friends and loved ones. Of course, most of them were nowhere to be found.

One man we met, Cristobel, told us (through a translator) that when he was only seven years old, almost his entire village had been massacred on one dark night. Cristobel, and his five-year old sister, Catarina, hid silently under the lice-infested straw in order to survive until the coast was clear. Since that time, he has made it his mission to search on the mountainside for unmarked mass graves. He found them and unearthed the decomposing bodies. Years later, he set up a memorial for the 87 people in his small village who had been killed in just one night.

Someone like Cristobel said, “They tried to kill us and bury us; they did not know that we were seeds.” Now Cristobel’s community has risen from the earth. They are no longer malnourished and now they have what we call “food sovereignty”…which means that these people are not dependent on anyone else for their food. They can focus on local resources and local markets. The campesinos (peasant farmers) have risen… children have risen out from under the lice-infested straw…the spirits (I suppose) of 87 bodies also have risen from a mass grave.

If we die…like a seed…we produce more of what this world needs.

So, what if we loved our neighbors as ourselves? Then we would not be as segregated in our communities as we are.
What if we lived out God’s word and did not spend time trying to defend it? Then more people would be drawn to Christ.
What if we were simply faithful Christians being the light that sits upon the hill? Then others would see our good works and glorify God.
What if we really believed that all people are created with unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness? Then we will not see some as aliens and threats, but as brothers and sisters in Christ.

What if …

They tried to kill us and bury us; but they did not know that we were seeds? Then, like Jesus, we will rise up out of the grave and sprout into new life!

Closing Prayer:

Dear God, shine your light of conviction and truth upon our hearts. We offer our feelings to you that are heavy and burdensome, and those feelings that are yet hopeful of your good work among us. We surrender all to you, trusting that you are producing good fruit within each of us. Amen.

To learn more about the mission of Growing Hope Globally, check out: growinghopeglobally.org
Some of these ideas in this blog post are drawn loosely from An American Lent – Repentance Project, 2019.

photo credits: Alex Morse and Max Finberg

STILL???

by Dr. Kristina “Tina” Campbell

At the end of a recent meeting, a male clergy stood to his full height, looked me square in the eye, and announced, “Tina, now I’m going to a meeting of pastors who do not believe in the ordination of women, and I consider them to be my brothers in Christ.” And then he turned on his heel and exited the room. It felt like a drive by shooting. Like most cowards, he made sure there were no witnesses and no opportunity for confrontation. I was triggered into full blown post traumatic stress, going back to countless similar episodes that occurred during my seminary days fifty years ago. I was stunned.

Later in the day, I shared the incident with a trusted colleague, and he, too, looked me straight in the eye and said, “That was no micro-aggression. That was an all out attack.” Then he paused and said, “I’m sorry.”

I was one of the “firsts”—women to be ordained, to be accepted in my CPE program, to serve in certain roles in ecclesiastical, administrative and chaplaincy positions. Being a “first” is exhausting, lonely, and sometimes challenging beyond measure, and yet we “firsts” hope some progress has been made as a result of our efforts. I have not lost hope or determination or a sense of call, yet I find myself the only member of my full-time staff belonging to a denomination that ordains women. Sometimes it feels as if no progress has been made. Sometimes it feels like we are fighting fifty year old battles.

I get it why Jesus went to the desert to be alone. I don’t think he wanted to give up. He just needed a moment to shed a few private tears, to absorb the concept of betrayal, to reassess, to regroup, to ready himself for crucifixion. I get it why Jesus needed to stare stunned into space, allowing his doubts, fears, anger, and disappointments to wash over him. He needed that sacred desert space to regroup, restore and return to his ministry as a whole human being. I love Jesus for going to the desert and unapologetically experiencing his full humanity. I love Jesus for never saying it would be easy or without personal pain. Lent affords us the opportunity to pause, to fully feel and to prepare to return to the challenges of our faith and calling. Breathe. Bow. Weep. Restore. Return. Amen.

–Tina was ordained in 1975 and retains a faith where all are fully embraced to pursue their authentic selves and callings. She has been in the desert for over forty years.

Discernment Challenge: How Do We Know It’s God?

by Rev. Teresa Blythe

One of the most prominent questions in spiritual direction and discernment is this: When I have a spiritual experience, how do I know it’s God and not my imagination or wishful thinking? I’d like to be able to give an iron clad answer to that question, but it’s just not possible, given the nature of God (as in, invisible). However, there are guides we can use to test our impulses, desires and insights. And those guides come in many forms, but I’ll start with the Bible.

In the Hebrew scriptures, apocrypha, and New Testament, there are a number of lists naming the attributes of God. These lists are helpful for discernment.

God’s desire is planted in our hearts. Deuteronomy 30. This chapter not only explains the covenant between God and Israel, but it offers some guidelines for righteous living. Choose life over death. The word is in your heart to observe. I (God) am with you through it all.

Pay attention to the little voice. Isaiah 30:21. When you turn to the right or when you turn to the left, your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, “This is the way; walk in it.”

The nature of Wisdom. Wisdom of Solomon (Apocryphal book) 7:22-8-1. The Wisdom of God is described in this listing of virtues (Wisdom, in biblical wisdom literature, is personified as a woman). Some of the virtues useful for discernment: holy, clear, humane, steadfast, free from anxiety, penetrating through all spirits.

Beatitudes. Matthew 5–7. The Sermon on the Mount (or Luke’s Sermon on the Plain) includes excellent benchmarks for discernment. Is my choice merciful? From a pure heart? Just? Does it contribute to peace?

Fruit of the Spirit. Galatians 5:22. You can test your choices by this list. Even though it is not an exhaustive list, it gives us a pretty good picture of what God is like. Jesus frequently spoke of knowing what is holy by the “fruit produced.” Love, joy, peace, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance.

Think on these things. Philippians 4: 8-9. Another list to help you make choices and test “spirits.” Whatever is true, honorable, just, pure, pleasing, commendable, any excellence, anything worthy of praise — keep your mind on these things.

Wisdom from above. James 3:17-18. God’s wisdom is pure, peaceable, gentle, willing to yield, full of mercy and good fruits, without a trace of partiality or hypocrisy. And a harvest of righteousness is sown in peace for those who make peace.

These lists offer us some guidance and benchmarks for evaluating our choices. Because we are human, we’re not always going to get it right. But, we’ll do a lot better in discernment with these attributes of God as our guide than without them.

Oh The Humanity

by Davin Franklin-Hicks

I met Auntie Rose when I was four or five. She had to be 184 years old, give or take 100 years. Old was ancient to me, like the pyramids, dinosaurs, and God. Auntie Rose lived next door to my mom and my mom’s three kids of which I was firmly in the center. My older brother and my baby brother were my orbit. My dad was a satellite across town while my mom was the moon, sleeping during the day and shining somewhere far from me at night. It wasn’t a world with cohesion, just one with intense gravity.

We lived in apartments with too many kids and too few awake adults so anyone who took an interest in me became family. That was how a stranger named Rose became Auntie Rose and her husband (by association, not at all earned) became Uncle John. And I loved her. She was sweet to me and had a soft lap. She made me eggs some mornings when my mom wasn’t all that aware of my grumbling tummy. She asked me about things like hopscotch and fights with my brothers and my wishes to be the President and a country music singer, dual careers that felt realistic and achievable.

There was another ancient woman on the premises that everyone called Granny. Now Granny really was the oldest person alive, of that I am certain. I don’t have the Guinness Book of Records to prove it, but my memory filed her away as the oldest person ever and I still hold every centenarian up against her. Granny played solitaire, smoked cigarettes, watched daytime television, prayed the rosary, and made cookies. Auntie Rose visited with her several times a week for many years and I would trail over after her. Granny had one of those little plaques with wooden blocks that spelled out JESUS if your eyes adjusted to it in just the right way. I thought that was brilliant. I would let my eyes go in and out of focus while tracing the lines, amazed that blank space could become something else if you saw it the right way. Auntie Rose’s words and Granny’s cigarette smoke would waft around me as they talked about nothing that actually interested me, but held me just the same. I thought Auntie Rose and Granny were actually related. My mom let me know years later that they were not. I guess I was making chosen family for as long as I had the ability.

Auntie Rose wasn’t my neighbor for long, but while she was, she likely heard a lot through the thin wall that separated her home from mine. My mom’s boyfriend, my future step-father, wasn’t a kind man and expressed that loudly in all sorts of ways. She didn’t like him which made me like her more. She also didn’t like her own husband much. I could tell that right away. I could give or take him. He was silent and sullen. She did something that no ancient person ever did in the 1980s: she divorced him. And then she moved away.

Auntie Rose kept coming back to visit Granny, though, so I didn’t lose her. It was one of those visits when something shifted that never shifted back. It was a moment I remember so vividly and so clearly you would think something traumatic happened. It wasn’t traumatic, though. I had been in the living room, talking to Granny. Granny asked me to go give Auntie Rose a vase as she was in the back room doing some kind of rearranging of a closet for Granny. I walked down the hall to the bedroom and there was no Auntie Rose. Then I heard her call from the darkened bathroom that had the door wide open. “Need something?” I walked toward her and then froze when I heard the unmistakable sound of urine hitting the water of a toilet.

She was talking to me. While peeing. And can you even? I could not. I froze and felt my stomach hurt. I said, “Uh, no. Nothing.” I set the vase on the bed and hightailed it out of the apartment, confused and disoriented by the whole experience.

There is such a fragility in early childhood, a constant reckoning with the stimulus all around. A sense of awe or mortification seem equally in reach at any given moment. I had been awed so much by Auntie Rose’s unfailing kindness and love that mortification had an easy entry. She had seemed above need, above doing anything so base as having to use the bathroom. I never forgave her for being so very human when I had cast her as Love.

That memory was created when I was eight-years old and I must think of it at least once a month with a very specific trigger: embarrassment on behalf of another’s humanity. I feel the burn of embarrassment the most intensely when it’s my own humanity revealed at the most inopportune time.

There’s a great scene from a mediocre show that also occurs to me frequently alongside this memory. The show was Nurse Jackie and the scene depicts a conversation between one of my favorite fictional TV characters Gloria Akalitus and a second character named Dr. O’Hara. Gloria Akalitus is the head of an overtaxed ER. She is every medical administrator I have ever met with a wonderful, lovable, terrifying personality. Dr. O’Hara comes upon Gloria eating and says, “I don’t think I have ever seen you eat before.” Gloria’s response is, “I like to hide my humanity. Or at least keep it to a minimum.”

Why is admitting we are human the hardest thing we do all day? Feels like it has something to do with the red rover game between capability and vulnerability that plays throughout the entirety of our living.

So what didn’t match up for the eight-year old me that day? Was it that she was in the bathroom with the light off? Was it that the door was open? Was it that it was unexpected? Or was it just too human?

It was being confronted with base need where strength and comfort had been the only resident prior. It made everything feel a bit more fragile in a world that already wasn’t sturdy. I am thankful for that moment now. I know it’s a weird thing to be thankful for – someone using the bathroom with the door open. I am, though, because it serves me. It pops up when I want to run like my young self did. It presents itself when another’s humanity feels far too real or when my own feels far too ugly. I pause now instead of run. I remind myself that we are all just humans working out our needs the best we can. I remind myself of my own capability and of yours. And, most of the time, I stay.

I imagine if I hadn’t run that day then Auntie Rose would have likely finished her business, washed her hands, and come out of the bathroom to take the vase from me. She likely would have had a kind word for me as she often peppered mundane moments with affirmation. I would have likely returned to Granny while she played her millionth game of solitaire and smoked her millionth-and-one cigarette. My stomach would have settled and cookies would have been consumed. Life would have simply continued.

I don’t know what it is about being human that sometimes makes the stomach hurt and causes us to flee, but I do know that most of us have moments that feel too naked and real. May we not change them or run from them. May we wait them out and see what happens. May we accept our need as fully human. May we close the door when we go potty.

“Red rover, red rover, send acceptance right over.”

Prolonged Complex Compassion Fatigue: An Outcome of Caring Deeply

by Kay F. Klinkenborg, MA, Spiritual Companion, Retired RN, LMFT, Clinical Member AAMFT

I have a new phrase, “Prolonged Complex Compassion Fatigue”¹ to describe our accumulated experiences as we enter the third year of a world pandemic. No one debates that it is/ has been a time of extraordinary stress from the COVID pandemic with persistent residual feelings of worn out, more tired consistently, restless and discouraged. The words, COVID/ Pandemic Fatigue has shown up in various media forms in an attempt to describe our collective prolonged response. COVID has challenged every social structure in our world. And it has impacted every person in the world.

The deaths from COVID are staggering and the tsunami leaves a wake of aching hearts with complicated grief, discouragement, fear of the future and much more. What medical health care workers, first responders and hospital/nursing home staff have experienced is beyond the scope of this article…they are traumatized with resulting PTSD…way beyond compassion fatigue.

What we are experiencing is individualized, but also collective. I chose to call this experience ‘complex’ because it has multiple layers of impact. COVID-19 has exacerbated already-existing global issues of climate change, political unrest, and systemic injustice. There is an added existential worry/anxiety. A predictable outcome from caring and loving in a time of crisis. We have done nothing wrong. Caring and loving is how we are designed by the Creator. But the prolonged intensity, unpredictability, isolation, constant adaptation and worrying about your own and other’s safety has a wearing impact. It is because we have and do care that we are experiencing this phenomena. No one is exempt.

Registered nurse Carla Joinson (1992) coined ‘compassion fatigue’ to describe a unique form of burnout that affected caregivers and resulted in a “loss of the ability to nurture.”² This form of burnout was related to a variety of stressors, including long hours, heavy workload without any signs of potential time to rest and restore.

Dr. Charles Figley, PhD was the first professor (University of Florida) to lecture on trauma and mentioned the phrase ‘compassion fatigue’ as similar to ‘secondary traumatic stress syndrome (STS)’; resulting from over extended exposure to traumatic stresses of time in caring. He also noted that it was similar to PTSD, but that it came through a secondary source…the patient.²

From 1995 to 2005 I conducted workshops for all levels of professionals in the caring fields on the topic “Compassion Fatigue”. It also occurs in a time of disaster in dealing with multiple traumatized people in extenuating circumstances over a period of time…just like the last two years. Until now, the term has been limited to nurses, doctors, therapists, clergy: all professionals in care giving careers and care-givers of ill family members or friends.

What are signs/symptoms of compassion fatigue?

Feeling exhausted physically and psychologically.
Feeling helpless, hopeless or powerless.
Feeling irritable, angry, sad or numb.
A sense of being detached or having decreased pleasure in activities.³
Disrupted sleep, anxiety, headaches, stomach upset, irritability
Decreased sense of purpose
Self-contempt
Difficulties with personal relationships⁴

I find we are experiencing an extraordinary unprecedented more complex form of compassion fatigue. It is expanded because of the prolonged, unpredictable and unknown outcome of the pandemic and added existential worries. The professional literature I have reviewed, local and national news stories and feature articles in newspapers and magazines are all reporting about this intense time of stress. I add the following complex responses:

Existential Worries

Complicated grief because of isolation when loved ones are critical or dying
Job security
Up ended routine life schedules, always adapting, no ‘norm’ to reset which is unnerving
Unpredictable health care availability, unprecedented medical care staff shortages
US divisive politics (Note: this is experienced by Red and Blue constituents)
World conflicts, potential new wars
Starvation, droughts
Loss of homes
Natural disasters on the rise: fires, floods, tornadoes, tsunamis, etc.
Violence and hate crimes on the rise around the world
Climate change.
This is not the end of the existential worry list.¹

More intense responses to prolonged complex compassion fatigue

Malaise: a mind/spirit/ brain fatigue. I can’t think my way through this.
Finding ourselves alarmed that concentration capacity has decreased
Unconsciously consumed with keeping up with news/ media; needing the most current statistics/stories; obsessed with Internet or Facebook
Free-floating anxiety; especially when outside one’s home or in groups/shopping for necessities; keeping self and loved ones safe
Depressed, feeling blue but unable to connect it to a specific reason
Spiritual questioning: “where is God in this?”; or even wondering if God exists or is present.
“The issues are so big, I have no idea where to start, self-care is slacking, demotivated, can’t push myself to do what I know to do.”
“I am one person, no way can I impact these big social issues.”¹

Exhausted! Bone tired! Deep chronic fatigue that a week off doesn’t resolve. And in our retirement community I often hear: “this is not how I intended to spend the last good physical capable years of my life.” This isn’t the only age group to lose some dreams. We have all lost some dreams.

In a recent article: “Mental Health Therapists Worried About America”⁵, the research of 1, 320 therapists across the US, found that anxiety and depression are significantly on the rise and the most frequent reason to seek help. The rise in needs for counselors was even across Red and Blue states.⁵

Rise in relationship issues: couples have too much together time…no space to breath and do self-care; financial stresses are increasing couple difficulties; substance use/abuse on rise; arguing more; children at home doing school. Political disagreements increasing major stress for immediate and extended family members. One in four providers said suicidal thoughts were among the top reasons for clients reaching out for help.⁵

Every major news outlet and newspapers have published articles of concern about the mental well-being of our children and youth. How has this impacted their learning, their social skills or view of the world?

Suicide rates are on the rise of young people from age 11-22 years of age.⁵ One 10 year old boy told his therapist he was having “sad panic mode” in describing being overwhelmed.⁵

Just reading this article is likely triggering one or more of the above stress responses. So what is one to do to cope with Prolonged Complex Compassion Fatigue?

Back to the basics is a trite statement. Digging deeper for coping skills, exploring new coping strategies are options. But what does that mean?

I want to begin with one primary focus: developing a resilient focused mind set. How do begin to take care of ourselves with intention and practice to diminish the impact that will continue to come our way? For as all reports indict: “this isn’t over yet.”

RESILIENT FOCUSED MIND SET

Resilience is the capacity to recover from difficulties; toughness. The ability of a substance or object to spring back into shape; elasticity.⁸ Psychologists have found these skills can be learned.⁷

YOU CAN DO THIS ONE HARD THING!

For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor (bathos) the deep, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. Romans 8: 38-39 NRSV.

I do not intend to be glib, but…you have used a lot of unidentified positive skills these first two years of pandemic and existential worries. Make a list of ‘how did you do this?’ You did make good choices. Learned to do different from some choices, but you kept moving forward. Creation is a continual evolution…we are continuing to evolve as people. If we did the last two years, we can do the years ahead of us too. Yes, its hard but there have never been any promises that life would be easy.

YOU ARE NOT ALONE IN THIS!

The Bible has 365 separate quotes of: “fear not for I am with you.” If it is that frequent, obviously history notes leaning on God (Divine) has proven to be of comfort and to own we are not alone. In addition, three characteristics that remind us of our competency. “For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.” 2 Timothy 1:7.

The Quran shares similar beliefs: “My mercy encompasses all things.

 [Quran] 7:156. “So verily, with this hardship, there is relief. [Quran 94:5]

YOU COME LEARNING HOW TO DO THIS!

Resilience requires this steadiness of mind and willingness to ‘be with’ suffering rather than turning away from it.⁹ As Poet Robert Frost said, “The best way out is always through.”⁹ We aren’t supposed to have all the answers about how to adapt to crises. This didn’t come with a manual. Paul, the Apostle wrote: “I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.” Philippians 4:13 NRSV.

Extend grace to yourself! Only then can you extend grace to others. You don’t have to know the future. You don’t have to have all the answers. Come with an open mind and heart to find a more peaceful way to be.

REASONABLE EXPECTATIONS

“Hope is not the conviction that something will turn out well but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out.”⁶ Letting go of our expectations..’what should be’ compared to ‘what is’, wastes a lot of mental energy. Obsessing about facts we can’t change is sitting in ‘what should be’. ‘What is’ gives you choices about how to spend your time; what to read, etc. This is healthy movement and not being frozen or immobilized.

Dr. Michael Yapko cautions about ‘global thinking’: generalizing one thing to all things.⁷ An example: one rapid test clinic for COVID wasn’t using certified testing equipment; thus all clinics aren’t using certified testing equipment. Dangerous thinking pattern when you pause to contemplate this type of generalization. People who do a lot of ‘global thinking’ have a high predictability of depression according to Yapko.

We live in an uncertain unpredictable time. Learning to ‘go with the flow’ and trust that we can respond with wise choices can be a powerful confidence builder.

WHAT AM I TO LEARN FROM THIS?

Back to Havel’s quote: “Hope is not the conviction that something will turn out well but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out.”⁶ You can’t learn from the present, if you are locked into focus on the past.⁷ Whether it is locked in your childhood pain, or betrayal as an adult, it is a waste of your spiritual and mental energy to ruminate on the past. In this moment, this time this space: What are you to learn?

Who are you going to chose to be…not who was I? Step into the future.

The old gospel hymn: “We’ve Come This Far By Faith Leaning on the Lord,” was a childhood favorite of mine. It pulled me forward when I was frightened; it pulled me through intense therapy to heal deep wounds; and it is pulling me forward to be engaged, productive and repeating my personal mantra: “What return can I make?”

A resilient mind set is my responsibility; that is my choice. Each of us can practice and hone this skill set. Yes, we will ebb and flow in our moods and response to these continued stressors. I pray by the grace of God I will continue to learn from this scary unpredictable time in which I live. This is resilience!

¹Klinkenborg, K.F. (Jan 24, 2022) W.I.S.E. Steering Committee Retreat for Church of the Palms, Sun City, AZ. (first use of term and defined).

² Compassion fatigue: toward a new understanding of the costs of caring. In Stamm BH

(Ed.): Secondary Traumatic Stress: Self-Care Issues for Clinicians, Researchers, and

Educators. Lutherville, MD: Sidran Press; 1995.

https://www.dvm360.com/view/compassion-fatigue-and-burnout-history-definitions-and-assessment

³https://www.stress.org/military/for-practitionersleaders/compassion-fatigue

⁴ https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/basics/compassion-fatigue

⁵New York Times, Dec 17, 2022. “Mental Health Therapists Worried About America.”

⁶Havel, Vaclav: playwright, essayist, poet, former dissident and 1st President of the Czech Republic (1936-2011).

⁷Yapko, Michael. May 14, 2018. “Keys to Unlock Depression: Why Skills Work Better than Pills.” Speech for Australian Psychology Society. ⁸Oxford Dictionary

⁹Search Inside Yourself Research Institute: https://siyli.org/compassion-resilience/