Into the Webbed World

Today I sent a piece of me into the webbed world.

An email, a message, a text, a chat, a tweet;

I can’t remember which.

It really doesn’t matter.

Into the webbed world it went,

Rich with wisdom,

Full of expectation,

Bare with honesty.

Into the webbed world it went

In search of a reply;

Anything would do.

“Thanks.”

“Hello.”

“Like.”
"Maybe."

"Yes."

“No.”

Into the webbed world it went,

This byte-sized piece of

Thought synapse,

Probing inquiry,

Smart observation,

Information request.

Into the webbed world it went.

Audience known:

You.

Friend.

Consumer.

Audience unknown:

You.

Friend.

Consumer.

Into the webbed world it went:

Truth.

Opinion.

Perspective.

Into the webbed world it went,

Testing,

Probing,

Challenging.

Into the webbed world it went.

My dreaming.

What I imagine.

How I hope.

Into the webbed world it went.

But who knows

Where it arrived?

If it was heard?

Will it be kept?

Does it really matter?

I can’t remember which:

An email, a message, a text, a chat, a tweet.

Today I sent a piece of me into the webbed world.

What an old Honda Civic taught me about how I think about people

I am the proud owner of this 1992 Honda Civic hatchback. It's the simplest modern car a person can own, with a tiny engine and a simple interior. Our one non-negotiable when we purchased it new was air conditioning to combat the midwest humidity. We were especially glad we made that choice when we took it to southern California. It's a five speed manual, and the clutch is original (more on that later).

It's been used gently over its 24 years. There are just over 170,000 miles on it, and for a Honda of this vintage, there is only negligible rust on it. The interior has some tears in the driver's seat, the door locks, having frozen and then broken during harsh Chicago winters, only operate with the key, and the rear window hatch needs to be propped open with a stick,

For its age and life experience it still gets over 30 miles/gallon around town and would probably do better if I felt the need to take it on the tollway. I don't.

At least twice a year somebody comes up to me in a parking lot, stops at my driveway, or rolls down their window next to me at a stoplight and says, "Hey, man! Interested in selling that?" My answer used to be "no." Now I usually give them a ridiculous number (like $6000.00) and then explain to them that it isn't possible to put a value on this little workhorse that, with regular maintenance and necessary repairs, just keeps doing its job.

This week was one of those "necessary repairs" weeks. The starter went out and left my wife sitting at work. I'm not patient enough to make the repair myself, and don't really know too much how to do it, although I'm sure I could figure it out. Instead, I put my AAA membership to work and had it towed down to my trusted guys at Kellenberger Auto. They expertly took care of the starter and it's back on the road. It will need a clutch soon, too, a more expensive proposition, and that got me to thinking.....

When and how do we decide to keep something or to replace it instead?

Jack and Larry at Kellenberger like to say that, with cars these days, the choice is between a monthly payment or the expenses of fixing an older car on a regular basis. Either way there's cost involved in ownership. Cars have to be one of the most resource-exhausting tools in our lives. Often it comes down to fix or replace.

Sometimes we treat people the same way.

Our culture is becoming a disposable one. Lots of things we purchase these days aren't able to be fixed, or the out-of-pocket cost of fixing them outpaces the cost to replace them. I just threw away my toaster oven and got a new one. When something can't be fixed, or is cheaper to replace than repair, we simply throw it away. I tend to think that manufacturers understand this phenomena, and strategically design items in a way that requires consumers to buy more of their products more often. Cynical, I know, but still....

I see this happening to people, too. When they can't be fixed, or their value seems to be outweighed by the challenges they pose, then we get rid of them. This disposition happens in businesses. It happens in families. It happens in churches.

Another spin on the throw-away approach relates to my Honda Civic. Because sometimes it requires a significant amount of effort to repair (a head gasket, for instance), it would be easy to decide to get rid of it rather than repair it. The time and money required to solve the problem overwhelms us and our reaction is to give up and start over with something new(er). There are days, like when it needs a new head gasket or the original clutch is finally giving out, that I feel exactly this way about my Honda Civic. But I also know that with the proper attention that little engine will run for many more years. I know precisely what I'm dealing with. Oh, and I love that little car.

I see this happening to people, too. When it seems easier to replace than repair the person or the relationship we have with them, we get rid of them. This disposition happens in businesses. It happens in families. It happens in churches.

I recently helped my 18 year old son buy his first car. It's a 2014 version of the Ford Fiesta, a stylish and spunky little car. It, like my Honda Civic, gets great gas mileage and comes with strong ratings. With any luck he'll own it for 24 years. But it did get me thinking. Well, maybe not thinking. More like coveting, desiring the hands-free bluetooth connections, the 1.6L ecoboost engine with 197 horsepower, the racing interior, and sports suspension.

We're often enticed by our desire for something new. Marketers understand this, and prey on it. Our consumer economy counts on it. In order for us to have a growing economy, our desire for the new, even when the old still works, must prevail. While the old may still be good and solid, it does not have the appeal of the new, and so out with the old and in with the new.

I see this happening with people, too. When someone new and more exciting comes along, we are enticed and "phase out" the ones who are already here. This phasing out happens in businesses. It happens in families. It happens in churches.

Our relationship between the old and the new is complex. It's one thing to think of inanimate products, consumer goods if you will, and how we covet, care for, and dispose of them (and these things are important to consider!). It should be something quite different, though, when we think about people and the relationships we invest in.

Unfortunately, it seems that there is "consumer creep" in our approach to people. People become a commodity. They become disposable. We treat them as replaceable. They're not.

I understand that it's complicated. I have cut people out of my life for "good" reasons. I have contemplated throwing away lifelong commitments in favor of "newer and better" opportunities. I have fired people from jobs that I knew they needed.

I'm glad I got my Honda Civic fixed again. Today it will get my wife to work and then to the doctor. This evening it will get me to the grocery story and a meeting. Tonight it will sit familiarly in the driveway next to an under-used 2006 Starcraft pop-up camper and a shiny orange Ford Fiesta ST. The family vehicle, a 2006 Honda Pilot, will rest in the garage.

In the morning I'll get up and settle myself into the slightly ripped driver's seat of my old Honda Civic and be glad that I haven't thrown away a quality piece of my life.

I'll be glad that you're still here, too.

Stepping Out: Unexpected Thoughts on Being an Entrepreneur

When I resigned from my job in April, I assumed that I would find another job within an organization. I immediately began exploring possibilities where I could use my years of organizational experience and a newly minted certificate in nonprofit management in an executive management position.

I was excited about the changes, and nervous about how to translate my church-based experience into other fields of leadership, but I was confident that my work background, skill set, personal profile, education and references would open opportunities for me. And although job searches in today's work environment are arduous and largely impersonal, there has been some progress. No job, but what feels like progress.

One day along the journey I had a person suggest to me that I start my own business. My laughter could be heard down the hallway! But that laughter turned into consideration, and the consideration led to imagination, and imagination led to consultation, and consultation led to articulation, and articulation is being converted into action. I am starting my own business. Are you laughing now?!?

Since some of you might also be in transition, I thought I'd offer some of my thought process. Maybe it will help you. If you'd like, I'd be glad to talk with you more directly. Drop me a line.

Here are some of the thoughts that I've wrestled with along the way. I'm pretty sure my wrestling is not done.

Point: I don't have much to offer. Even though I have rich and varied leadership experience, there is a nagging sense that such experience is not really experience. I've had great staff members to cover my backside. It's hard to point to the specific skill sets that distinguish me.

Counterpoint: My experience and education are unique and profound. I am frequently surprised when practices and concepts about leadership and organizations that for me are intuitive are heard as new (and helpful) ideas by others.

Point: I am not an entrepreneur. I've always worked in organizations with a set job description and lots of bosses. I don't know anything about starting something from scratch.

Counterpoint: My whole life has been entrepreneurial. Within the context of my jobs, I have always been a creator, initiator and developer. Each of my jobs required major changes, and it was an entrepreneurial spirit which helped me thrive in those situations.

Point: I am at the wrong point in my life to risk self-employment. While my wife and I share the income burden, I have always been the primary wage-earner. Insurance, retirement savings, paid vacation and the like are all part of the work culture that we count on.

Counterpoint: There will never be a better or right time to take the risk. This is my mid-life. Well designed and astutely managed self-employment will be different, but it is not impossible. We will learn to adapt to a different financial flow to our lives.

Point: I am a team player and this is an individual sport. It will depend wholly on me, and I work better in teams and as a leader of groups.

Counterpoint: Already I see that I will not be alone. There are several wise advisers walking with me. There are potential partnerships emerging. I will able to use my passion for working collaboratively to bring people together.

Point: I don't have my act together. I am a flawed and limited human. I have weaknesses and vulnerabilities. I am unsure at times. My brain doesn't always work the way I want it to when I want it to.

Counterpoint: I don't have my act together. I, like the people and organizations I work with, am a flawed and limited human. I, like those I serve, have weaknesses and vulnerabilities. I, like those I would encourage, am unsure at times. Amazingly, my brain still works, and in mysterious, unique and wonderful ways.

There are, of course, other points of concern. Where will the business come from, especially that first contract or two? How will I respond when things don't go as planned? Will I be able to focus? Will the work become too consuming?

But the possibilities are too great to ignore, the calling too strong to shrug off. I love helping others perform at their best. I have a passion for healthy organizations and a deep understanding of how leadership fosters that health. I like questions, big, hard, complex questions alongside simple obvious ones. I have a unique view of how artistry impacts leadership, a perspective cultivated as a musician and bureaucrat.

So here I am at a crossroads in life I never anticipated. How I got here is still a bit of a blur, and where it ends up is definitely hidden around the corner. The current vantage point, however, holds a clear vision. It is a vision for how artistry leads and how blessed I'll be to help others find that synergy. 

It's Not Over When It's Over: Six simple post-interview practices for employers

 Recently I have been seeking employment. I've submitted dozens of resumes and applications. I do not expect to hear from the recipient of each submission. I understand the digital age and applicant screening well enough to know that such courtesy is a moot point.

I have been somewhat perplexed, however, at the arms-length responses from organizations that have actually given me an interview.

On several occasions I have been fortunate enough to be invited for a face-to-face interview. I've prepared myself by researching the job, company and individuals with whom I'm meeting. I've taken special care to dress appropriately. I've arrived early, sometimes traveling a good distance, and spent 60 - 90 minutes in thorough conversation with the company leaders. After the interview I've taken a few minutes to send a note of thanks for the opportunity.

I know the potential employers have also invested significant time into the process by developing job descriptions, researching candidates, holding interviews, and evaluating their prospects. They seem, however, to have given little thought to what happens once the interview is over.

After each interview, there have been long periods of undefined silence, silence during which I find myself singing over and over in my head that catchy little chorus by Indie pop artists A Great Big World and Christina Aguilera: Say something. I'm giving up on you.

I have also been on the other side of the interview process, hiring excellent employees and turning down other quality candidates. Here are six simple things I've learned that make the tail end of the process go better for the candidate and strengthen the candidate's perception of you as a potential employer, whether or not they ultimately end up working for you.

1. Know your timeline and share it. When the interview concludes, say definitively to the candidate, "You will hear from me no later than the end of the day on .........". And then get back to them by then! Block out that afternoon to make those calls. If your process has become delayed, let the candidate know. If you still have questions or need more information from the candidate, schedule a time for additional conversation. But give them a timeline, and stick to it.
2. Make the phone call. While email or text are convenient ways to contact your candidate, they are cheap and disrespectful. When a candidate has committed time and energy to a face-to-face interview, they deserve a live voice sharing the news of whether or not they will be offered the position. These calls aren't always easy for either party involved, but a quality manager will take a deep breath, pick up the phone, and do what's right. Then you can follow up with an official letter or summary email.
3. Be prepared to offer feedback. Assuming you have interviewed quality, thoughtful candidates, be prepared to answer their questions. A candidate might ask: "Are there any specific areas of training or experience that could better prepare me for a job like this?" or "Was there anything during the interview itself that I could have done better which would have improved my candidacy?" or "What specific skills, experiences or knowledge are you looking forward to me bringing to this position?"  
4. Be honest. When you're offering feedback, make sure you're telling the truth and being as forthcoming as you can be within non-discrimination practices. If the candidate asks for feedback on their interview and you felt they said something off-putting or exhibited an uncomfortable demeanor during the interview, tell them; perhaps they had no idea they came across in that way and would be able to correct it in the future. And don't make up excuses. You're interviewing smart people; they'll see right through your platitudes.
5. Stay focused on who's in front of you: Your candidate, especially one that is being rejected, doesn't need to hear how good all of the other candidates and interviews were. Frankly, if you haven't selected me I assume that at least one other candidate must have been a rock star! They also don't need to hear how difficult the decision was for the employer. "We have chosen to go with another candidate" or "we are going in another direction at this time" or "we will not be moving forward with your application" are sufficient. If there are specific things you can say to the candidate about their candidacy, say them (points 3 & 4 above). Otherwise, reserve your process observations for conversations with your colleagues, coach, or counselor.
6. Say "Thank you.": Saying "thank you" should be natural and heartfelt. Hopefully it is for you. Be sure to express your appreciation for the candidate's interest in your company/organization, the time that they have devoted to this process, and their willingness to undergo the scrutiny of an interview. Say it on the phone. Put it in writing when you follow up.

The last impression a candidate will have of you and your organization in the interview process is what will stick with them. Make sure their experience is professional and transparent the whole way through to the final "no" or the hallelujah "YES!"

Rattle the bones

On Sunday our family attended the 150th anniversary celebration worship service of the Second Baptist Church in Elgin, IL. This prominent African-American congregation was started in 1866 by a group of 125 slaves who escaped from Alabama and arrived in Elgin in a boxcar. It's a necessary story; read it here.

Our mostly white congregation, the Highland Avenue Church of the Brethren, and Second Baptist have been sharing the fourth Sunday of January for over 15 years, exchanging choirs and pastors in a cross-town effort at understanding and solidarity. It's not much, but it's a little bit of something that means I already felt mostly at home walking into their sanctuary.

The service was magnificent, a rich celebration of the history of a people and a church, a strong and hopeful declaration of significance in today's world, and an anticipatory expression of a future of faith and civic leadership.


One moment that washed over me and stirred the deepest parts of my soul was a powerful dance presentation by Divine Movement,  a group of young women of the church. Their dance recounted the pain of the slave experience with a tangible rhythm of suppression, suffering, and dehumanization. It ended with a forceful declaration of liberation, healing, and the strength of human dignity. It moved with faith and freedom.

I, a middle-aged white male who has enjoyed every privilege that my birth has afforded me, really have no idea what that dance meant to most people in that room. As I watched, the young women communicated in no uncertain terms the depth of their African-American experience, and those around me in the congregation responded with knowing.


The part of the dance routine that told the story of slave bondage, however, disturbed my soul. My body felt the wrenching of the restraints, the beatings, and the struggle. Or at least I felt what might have been some small sample of that experience. I began to feel the oppressive power, and the will to resist. My body was uncomfortable. Tears were present. My soul was straining to access this narrative even while it was begging to escape it.

So many emotions accompanied those moments, and have lingered with me in the early days of this week. I know they will eventually dissipate for me, and I will be left to conjure them through memory. And this need to recall is one key aspect of what I, a person of privilege, have learned from this experience: For me, the dance imposed itself into my emotions and thoughts, challenging my experience and bringing to light my complicity. It made me uncomfortable. It caused me to think and feel things that I have not thought of or felt before. It challenged, at least in a small way, who I am and what I know to be true in the world. But it is not part of me.

For those young women dancers and the African-American faith community of Second Baptist, however, that dance released some of the deepest parts of their soul and experience as humans. It was more than a reflection on history; it was the lifeflow, the heartbeat of a people, a rare and raw moment in which the flood of this dehumanizing scourge of slavery was released for everyone who was in that room to feel, and claim, and wrestle with. Perhaps the connection is strong because the horrifying narrative continues to be written today.

The statistics are awful for non-dominant culture folks in our country. Mass incarceration, murder by authorities, institutional patterns of exclusion, prejudice, and fear still limit the life possibilities of too many non-white people, and African-Americans in particular. We are racist and perpetuate structured racism.

I know these realities intellectually. I've heard the hard stories of my African-American sisters and brothers. I've looked at the data. I've visited museums and historical sites. I've done some work along the way to be a better steward of my privilege. And I continue to do these things.

But in that dance, in that dance, that dance.......

There are really no words to describe it. I don't get it. I never will.

But I could feel it. It was full of power. It was raw. It heated the marrow and rattled the bones. It was fully human and fully divine. It was heartbreaking and hopeful. It was long in suffering and strong in overcoming. It was resigned to humanity's failed condition and insistent on God's sovereign plan.

There is no room for bigotry, hatred, superiority, racial divisiveness, fear, and murderous ways in Jesus-land. What I felt challenges me to examine my own privilege yet again and to put into action more things that make for justice and healing. I need to do my part. You need to do yours. Together we need to do ours.

Sitting in the sanctuary of Second Baptist Church on that 150th Anniversary Celebration day was a blessing. I am humbly grateful that I could be present, and that I was a part of the congregation which received such powerful truth through Divine Movement.

May the Holy Spirit rattle these middle-aged white male bones some more, and inspire all of us to dance our way to a world of justice and peace.

On Kindness

Today an envelope with no return address arrived in our mailbox. This is not unusual since many marketing firms use this tactic to draw you into their message. Typically we toss those envelopes aside and maybe, but only maybe, open them days or weeks later.

But for some reason this one seemed a bit more legit. Maybe it was the full salutation to me, my wife and family that seemed a little more personalized. I opened it.

Wow! Inside was this brief note and some cash. As I read the note out loud to Kim, both of our eyes teared up. An unexpected act of anonymous kindness. What a blessing! Our spirits indeed were lifted.

So now I'm thinking about kindness.

There really is a lot of kindness in the world. This article about Rosa's Pizza Shop, where the hungry and homeless can get a pre-paid pizza slice, is an inspiring example of how one person's kindness gave a store owner an opportunity to serve and generous patrons an opportunity to share. All it took was a post-it note or two or a thousand!

This morning while exiting a local coffee shop, someone held the door open for me and my family. There was a second door; we returned the favor. Kindness.

It seems to me that there are different types of kindness. If we pay attention to those around us we can both recognize those acts and offer them ourselves.

One form of kindness is the incidental form of respect we offer to one another as we interact around daily routines. Holding the door, saying "please" and "thank-you," offering our umbrella, speaking gently to one another, and so on, are the moment-by-moment things of kindness.

A second type of kindness seeks to inject some surprise and goodness into a stranger's life. Perhaps this form of kindness is best exhibited in the drive-through phenomena whereby I pay for the order of the person behind me in line. I likely don't know them, will never meet them, and can only imagine the smile it brings to their face (unless of course I'm lingering to watch in my rearview mirror). The drive-through employee actually gets to witness the confusion-followed-by-smile when the customer realizes that they don't need to pay for their order. Often they choose to pass it on to the next customer.

Another form of kindness is also extended to a stranger, but as an act of charity. This type of kindness is the story of Rosa's Pizza Shop. A gift is given with the expectation that someone in need, someone we do not know but who is coming up short in some aspect of life, will benefit from it.

The kindness we received through the mail today is different still. It is intentional anonymous kindness. This kindness is offered when there is specific knowledge of a need of someone we know and we reach out to help meet that need without letting the recipient know who we are. Today's gift came from someone who is aware that both Kim and I have been unemployed. We are so grateful they blessed us in this way. They chose to do so anonymously, but they did so knowingly and as friends.

Some kindnesses are offered in ways that cultivate deeper friendship. These kindnesses are those which we share openly and directly. When a friend delivers a meal post-surgery, that is a kindness which further strengthens the bonds of friendship. When someone offers to keep your kids so you can get out for a mommy/daddy date, or just get some grocery shopping done in peace, that is kindness that further builds a friendship. When your buddy spends a week on your roof helping you re-shingle, that is kindness that cements a relationship.

What other forms of kindness can you think of?

The rhetoric of today's world is often fear, separation, and hatred. But the rhetoric is not the reality. I suppose it is possible to allow the hard rhetoric of division to suck us in, but I prefer to believe that there is more power through simple acts of kindness.

Where have you witnessed kindness today? What kindness have you received today? How have you been kind today?

Thank you to our intentional, anonymous friends! Indeed our spirits have been lifted. And your simple act of kindness has encouraged me to think about how I, too, can be more kind.

Imagine how beautiful our world will be when everyone is infected by kindness and celebrating acts of generosity!

Our Counseling Culture: Saving us or ruining us?

I had been seeing a really awesome counselor for over a year. He helped me work through a bunch of pretty intense and painful things. But then I left my job, and my insurance changed, thus ending my bi-weekly visits. A few months out and I've been reflecting on the role of a counselor in my life, and the role of counselors in our society. Here I'll wonder out loud:

Is our counseling culture saving us or ruining us?

Saving us: why we need these companions on the way

1.  Counselors help us work through some really tough stuff. They may not have seen and heard it all before, but they've seen and heard enough to sit there and take anything we can dish out. Deep grief? There beside you. Burning anger? Got it. Huge questions? Go ahead. Weighty depression? Understood. These trained professionals won't shy away when our going gets rough. In fact, they'll lean in and help us find a way through it, as much as they can.

2.  Counselors are safe. We know that when we share something with a counselor it won't come back to haunt us. It won't be shown sympathy today and then used as ammunition tomorrow. They won't collect our stories and then broadcast them to others. They're not a part of the gossip network. We can say what we need to say, and they will protect it.

3.  Counselors are, as stated in point #1, professionals. At least the ones that I'm talking about are. They are trained and continually monitored to ensure that they are doing good and not causing harm. There is not a lot of room with a professional for "good intentions." They have particular knowledge about how to listen and support their clients, and then know when they're in over their head and need to suggest different help for us.

4.  Counselors keep the focus on us. They make sure that we're doing work on the things that we can work on. Ourselves. There's no dodging our own crap, or ignoring our own goodness. We're constantly redirected to the next level of self-understanding, whether it's encouraging or hard.

5.  Counselors want us to get "better." They really do. I believe they have our best interests in mind. The counselors that I have known have an inherent belief that humans are good, and that even when broken, damaged, or failed, our human calling is to health and well-being. That health looks different for each of us, but our counselor never gives up on us.

Ruining us: why we should think more critically about our companions

1.  By saying that counselors are our "only" safe space, we are failing to cultivate the types of vulnerability required for intimate relationships. Why can't, and shouldn't, we have friendships that are equally safe? What does it take to have friends and communities of people that allow for such vulnerability? Why we are satisfied with and/or resigned to professionalizing our spaces of vulnerability?

2.  If we depend too much on our counselor, then we become lazy. We can get away with not asking ourselves the questions because we expect the counselor to ask the questions. We can stop thinking on our own because our professional will think for us. Yes, it can happen.

3. Counselors keep the focus on us. Here the downside is that we are reinforced in our already-present narcissism. The problems are about me. The struggle is about me. The solutions are about me. But very few if any things are ever so exclusively about me. Of course good counselors help us understand our systems, but they're always our systems.

4.  Counselors rely on our sickness to maintain their financial wellness. This reality is not meant to imply that counselors would keep a client on in ways that are not necessary, or that counselors are money-grubbers. At this point professionalism (and insurance companies!) step up for some checks and balances. But admit it: there is a whole, huge, economic system built on people's pain and fragility. Should our suffering and struggles be an industry?


5.  Counselors provide an excuse to divest from others. When confronted with the anguish and struggle of those around us, we can get away from it by asking, "have you seen a counselor? Maybe you should." Too often I hear this statement as code for "I don't want to deal with you and your stuff" or "I just don't have the time." Come back after you've worked it out with your counselor, and I'll see if I can work you back into my life.


I don't really believe that counseling and counselors are saving us or ruining us. I do know that mine has been a tremendous help to me, and I know lots of people who swear by their counselor. I also know a few people that I think should go see a counselor. In the end I support that counselors can and do play an important role in mental health.

But I also earnestly wonder what the impact is for our culture when it relies so heavily on professionals to help us address our emotional condition.

Maybe I'll ask my counselor. I just got approval from my insurance provider to go see him again.

Perceived enemies

"When things get bad, you create a perceived enemy, 

especially when there is already resounding endorsement from all quarters. 

The myth grows greater than the reality. 

All human beings do it -- personally and politically." 

 from The Music Room by Namita Devidayal, p 106

Things must be bad. We have created so many enemies.

Not only have we created enemies, but we have turned our perception into a palpable vitriol, expressions of suspicion and hatred that rub across our skin like sandpaper and work their way into our soul like grains of sand. But those grains of sand do not turn to pearls. They become festering wounds, infected sores within ourselves, and between us. They become symptomatic of the harsh landscape of which we are a part.

To combat those sores, to fight the pain, to overthrow the "enemy," we turn to the powers we hold and unleash them.


When my wife was being treated for her severely infected gall bladder, the doctors pushed large amounts of strong antibiotics into her system. Through i.v.s and pills, they sought to overwhelm the infection with a violent force that would drive it out of her body, or kill it off. The problem is, however, that like in chemotherapy, the aggressive fight against infection can also damage the good cells and actually compromise the immune system. That is indiscriminate power.

We see such power unleashed every day in our world. Alton Sterling, Philando Castile, Michael Smith, Lorne Ahrens, Michael Krol, Patrick Zamarripa, and Brent Thompson.

Where have we gone so wrong? I wish I knew. I am tired of hearing that my black brothers are being gunned down. I am tired of hearing that police officers are being picked off while they serve to protect. I am tired of Chicago celebrating that we had "fewer" murders and "less" gun-related violence on this 4th of July weekend. I am tired of the toll of wars and bearing the weight, small as it is for me personally, of the rumor of wars.





But this movement in which a myth grows greater than the reality...... This movement is one I understand. It happens in my head, so it's not hard to imagine that it happens in much larger ways in the world. I am a worrier, so things often become realities in my thoughts even though they are far less (or far more) substantial in concrete life.





We perpetuate and feed these myths, but why? I wish I knew.

Actually, what I really wish I knew was how to stop them.

I wish I knew how to stop the myth that there are no structural barriers to racial equality.

I wish I knew how to stop the myth that to advance the cause of justice for one person or group of people is necessarily to dismiss, demean or devalue another.

I wish I knew how to stop the myth that power exercised by blunt force will produce sustainable peace.

I wish I knew how to stop the myth that everyone should be able to do "it" on their own, to realize that great American dream, to pull themselves up by their bootstraps.

I wish I knew how to stop the myth that white people are superior to people with darker skin tones.

I wish......

          .........so many things.....

But wishing, no matter how bright the star, will not get me, will not get us, anywhere.

I wasn't a fan of the show "Myth Busters" the way many people were, but I do appreciate the effort to take things that are commonly thought to be true and actually test them. I am, however, a big fan of snopes,com and wish more social media users would take 30 seconds to check their stories before perpetuating them.

In fact, it's a simple place to start when we want to move beyond wishing. Start by asking questions.

Ask things like "is this factually true?" "How is it that I consider my sources trustworthy?" "What is an alternate point of view?" "What is the energy behind this point of view?" "What am I afraid of?" "What am I hoping for?" "What would the other in this situation say? Better yet, what do you say, victim, perpetrator, bystander?"

Ask things like "I wonder what it feels like to be _______ (in that position, or those shoes)?" "How am I feeling, and where did those feeling come from?" "Could I be wrong?" "What does it mean if I'm right?" "What more can/must I learn?" "What is my power, and how can I utilize it responsibly?"

By asking questions we challenge the endorsement of an unreality pointing toward the necessity of an enemy.

The myth we're living with these days is that things are getting bad, that enemies are lurking around every corner. Maybe instead of jumping on the bandwagon we might ask some questions and consider the inquiry of others.

Gus and me - photo by Samuel Sarpiya

Today I visited an amazing outreach in Rockford, IL. You can read about it here. The mobile lab was parked half a block behind a house in which there was a shooting last night. One of the kids in the lab saw it happen. And yet there he was today, working and playing games on the computer.

What is the myth? What is the reality? What are the questions?

For those of us who are Christians, getting beyond the myth has a definite God element to it. The reality we seek to uncover beneath the myths we have fostered has particular characteristics. They include things like compassion, reconciliation, justice, love, joy, sacrifice, and service.

What are the myths? What are the questions?

God, help us to see a different reality,

Personally. Politically.

While we wait

While we wait the world keeps on turning.

While we wait lives flipped upside down.

While we wait our cities, they are burning.

While we wait and watch the fleeing drown.

Where will the love come from to take us 

to a better place than this?

A love to break the chains that hold us bound to sin and death?

A love to shock the anger, terrify the fear,

Convert us all to humanness, heartbeats strong and clear.

Where will the love come from to save us 

for a better world than this?

While we hope despair is taking over. 

While we hope depression has its way.

While we hope sadness keeps on risin’. 

While we hope our grief still fills the day.

Where will the love come from to take us to a better place than this?

A love to break the chains that hold us bound to sin and death?

A love to shock the anger, terrify the fear,

Converting us to humanness, heartbeats strong and clear.

Where will the love come from to save us for a better world than this? 

While we watch relationships are crumbling. 

While we watch mothers brace for pain.

While we watch fathers lose their dignity. 

While we watch children fail to gain.

We are waiting, we are hoping, we are watching.

Where will the love come from to take us to a better place than this?

A love to break the chains that hold us bound to sin and death?

A love to shock the anger, terrify the fear,

Converting us to humanness, heartbeats strong and clear.

Where will the love come from to save us for a better world than this?

Here comes the love, the love to save us, for a better world than this.

You can hear a rough recording of While we wait on my YouTube channel 

Text and music copyright(c)2015  Jonathan A Shively

The myth of "self care"

For decades, well-meaning people have told me to take care of myself. Often it's the common, innocuous parting wish, simply stated "take care." When I am not well, it's offered as a more immediate concern, "take care of yourself," meaning "do what you can to become well again." Other times it has been offered as a philosophical admonition to participate in ongoing activities which signify self care: eat right, exercise, rest, love, participate in life-giving activities, pray, etc.

This latter instruction has actually become a nauseating mantra, popularized I think by the baby boomers, but readily adopted by most generations. Not surprisingly, it has also been adopted by the church.

Perhaps the most frequent refrain that is repeated to pastors is "take care of yourself." The line of thinking goes something like this: you have to be responsible for your own well-being, ALL aspects of your well-being. If you are responsible and take care of yourself, you will be a good pastor; if you don't, most likely you'll end up a burnt out, failed, or fallen pastor.

Same mantra goes for parents. "Take care of yourself" so that you can support your spouse better and be fully present in your children's lives. And it goes for us as employees as well. "Take care of yourself" so that you can be at your best when the pressure is on in the workplace.

I believe this sentiment. We need to have self-responsibility. We need to take action in our own lives to support our own well-being.

But I also don't agree with a word of it. Nothing I do is ever isolated enough to consist solely of self-care. If self care were to be true, I wouldn't be married, wouldn't have kids, couldn't be part of a church, couldn't pursue gainful employment, and couldn't enjoy avocations. Unless of course I'm an entirely narcissistic person, which no-one who ever tells me to practice self care would endorse.

The truth is that I get to make very few choices based exclusively on the need for self care. When I make food choices, because I share meals with my family on a daily basis, they are actually family decisions. When I choose to go for a run, I do so with a keen understanding that this choice will affect the daily rhythm of my family's life. When I say I need rest, someone, somewhere is not getting time or attention that they need equally significantly. If I go on retreat, I am shifting the burden of daily responsibility to others.

As the father of a special needs child, now young adult, the idea of self-care is almost laughable. When I run out of energy to deal with Ben, I can't just "turn him off" and go on a retreat. At best my wife and I can secure a respite caregiver to spend a few hours or even a few days without him, but during that time we'll receive at least 50 phone calls from him and live with the lingering fear that something will go dramatically awry. When it does go awry, there is no choice but to deal with it, irrespective of my need to "take care."

As I said earlier, the church repeats this mantra to its leaders all the time. It's one of the cardinal rules of pastoral ministry and church leadership. "Take care of yourself." What I've seen most often, however, is that the church's needs almost always supercede any effort a leader makes at "self care."

What do I mean? Let me count the ways. Financially. Take care of yourself, but we will pay you only what we can, not what you need. Time. Take the time you need for yourself, but only after you have met our needs, and only until we need something else from you (pastors "on call" during vacation). Family. Make sure your spousal relationship is strong, but don't forget you're married to the church. Don't neglect your children, but don't forget they're in the spotlight right alongside you. Spiritual life. Pray, read scripture, retreat, but mostly when it's convenient for us and in the end for our benefit. Behave. Always maintain composure and professionalism, even though the church will protect people who behave atrociously toward you. Play nicely. You must "take care" so that you can function transformatively in an organization that refuses to deal with its own shortcomings, pathologies, and sin.

I'm sure there are more.

I recently wrote a blog post about care. You can read it here if you haven't already. But it's not self care. It's community care. It's friend care. It's the grace-filled care of God.

We DO need to find better ways to take care, to take care of each other. Instead of a congregation telling it's pastor to use his/her vacation, how about building a strategy with the pastor so that the vacation is actually refreshing. Give them extra money to spend. Make sure there are alternative pastoral coverage people in place. Ask them to turn off their cell phone, and covenant not to leave urgent messages. Plan to complete work that needs to be done while they're away, not just put if off to double the load when they return. Mow their lawn and feed their pets. Stock their refrigerator for when they return.



What ways does your church care for its pastor/s? What other ways can you think of? I know some churches are working hard at shared care already. What can we learn from you?

Like I said, my beef with self care is not intended to get us off the hook for making better choices and following through. But I do think we need to examine how our ideas of self care are embedded in our culture's selfish and self-serving defaults, and how self care is at odds with a Christian perspective on relationships. Rather than a call to abandon self care, there's an opportunity for us to pick up shared care. There are lots of words for these alternatives to self care: compassion, friendship, covenant, mutuality, community, love.


It's a very rare day or hour that I feel capable and privileged enough to practice self care. The rest of the time, the vast majority of the time, I absolutely cannot do it alone. I wish we could stop pretending that we can take care of ourselves. I pray that we will stop putting the pressure on one another to take care of ourselves. Instead, let's take care of one another, extending grace and caring support so that together we might be well.

Maybe, just maybe....

Last evening my lovely wife had her gall bladder removed. After four days of pain and an equal number of sleepless nights, it became clear that her discomfort wasn't simply a recurrence of acid reflux. An early Thursday morning trip to urgent care proved inconclusive and unhelpful, as the diagnosis was noncommittal and there was confusion about insurance coverage (a whole other post!).

After suffering through another pain-filled morning, an afternoon visit to her outstanding primary care physician ended with a drive over to the E.R. to further explore the cause of her symptoms. Twelve hours after beginning her journey of seeking relief, she entered the O.R. with an excellent surgeon, one who had helped her two previous times. The result was the successful removal of a greatly enlarged and infected gall bladder and very large stone.

This morning, the first of her recovery, she is already feeling the improvement. From her previous seven surgical experiences, we know that Kim is a quick healer with a high tolerance for the pain that comes with that re-growth process.

It is pretty easy for me to support the pain of healing; it was brutal to see her in the pain of illness, especially when the cause was yet to be pinpointed.

We all are faced with accompanying someone on their journey of pain. Pain is a part of life. Physical, emotional, spiritual, relational pain sometimes seem to seek us out and taunt us. Sometimes we can move around pain, acting blissfully unaware of it, or pretending that we are unaffected by it. Bearing one another's pain is hard. Just hard. So we only do it as much as we absolutely have to.

There is a lot of pain in the world today. I won't run down any lists, but you've already started making your own in your head. This pain soaks deep into our soul and psyche, and it also sits like an oily skin on the surface of our lives. The pain is private and public, personal and communal. It is a real and unavoidable element of life.

Some of you will know more acutely how hard pain is to deal with. Those of you with chronic health conditions suffer in ways that those of us who are healthier cannot understand. Those of you who struggle financially experience pain in ways that those of us with more resources don't. Those of you with broken relationships and deep loneliness know pain in a way that those of us with strong friendships and intimate companionship don't. Those of you who are discounted and ostracized just because of who you are (skin tone, sexuality, age, gender, education, economics, etc......) know a pain that guys like me who sit comfortably in all the privileged categories will never know.

But just because we don't know firsthand the pain doesn't mean we can ignore it. Our privilege does not give us the luxury of brushing aside the pain and suffering of those around us. Kim's agony made me uncomfortable, but I was not going to walk away. I could not take it from her. I could not feel it with her. I could not understand what pain of 10 on the 10 scale meant for her.

But I also could not avoid it, and I would not avoid her. All I could do was stay at her side, hold her hand, advocate for her care, tuck in her sheet, pray for her, and assure her that I would remain right there at her side.


This posture toward pain is not obligation, duty, or a strategy. It is compassion.

Our world is in pain. We know it in our families. We live it in our church. We fear it in our politics. It is right beside us each and every day, seemingly ready to overtake us. Often we can't fix it. Mostly we don't understand it. Usually we try to avoid it.

But maybe, just maybe, we could start by meeting the pain with more compassion. And then maybe, just maybe, we'd wake up on a Friday morning with a different kind of pain, the pain that tells us we're finally starting to heal.

Where love is

Our son Ben is 21. He is a joy-filled, loving, social young man. His heart is as big as an ocean. He wants to help people. He wants to serve.

For the last two years he has been looking forward to a week-long volunteer workcamp. In 2015 he registered to attend, but the camp was cancelled due to low enrollment. This year he and I and my dad spent a week at Camp Mardela in Maryland, working alongside other participants in this intergenerational activity to get the camp ready for its summer ministry to kids.

Three generations working together

Ben was in his glory. He helped us split wood.

Ben and his grandpa!

He raked leaves.

Ben loves to rake leaves!

He helped clear trails, paint buildings, and deep clean the kitchen. He participated in food preparation and cleanup. He prayed for a meal and read scripture for devotions one evening.

And Ben did what he does best: he made new friends. Ben is more than just outgoing. He is socially uninhibited, a trait consistent with his genetic makeup known as Williams Syndrome.

Ben also got tired and somewhat ornery. By Friday afternoon, the fifth full day of the camp, his self-control was out the window, and my relatively small attempt at setting healthy limits and redirecting Ben quickly devolved into an angry tirade by our usually joy-filled Ben.

Ben's outbursts are not unprecedented. Because the area affected by his genetic deletion typically provides self-regulation, he doesn't have all the tools he needs to use good judgement, make logical decisions, and connect behavior to consequences, especially future outcomes. When he encounters such a situation, sometimes his frustration boils over, and it's not pretty. While not frequent, such violent scenes repeat with periodic regularity.

When his anger peaks, Ben reveals a very colorful and hurtful vocabulary, no doubt picked up in high school hallways. He becomes physically aggressive, kicking, punching, scratching, and throwing anything he can get his hands on. He is strong and persistent. These are scary moments.

As Ben's parent, these tirades can be extremely disconcerting and threatening. The amount of energy required to stick with Ben through one of these instances is immense. On the last day of a physically strenuous workcamp, my energy was already depleted. Since we were at a camp, my strategy to deal with Ben's rising anger was to get him outside and move safely away from him until he could escalate to his breaking point and ultimately return to what typically follows - a contrite, compassionate young man.

There were six other youth ages 13-17 attending the workcamp, five from one youth group and the youngest from another church. At the beginning of the week I had briefly introduced them to Ben's tendencies and spoke about Williams Syndrome. They were friendly and welcoming to Ben, and Ben has never met a human being he didn't want to be friends with!

I was unprepared, however, for the level of maturity and caring from these young people. I know good kids; my wife and I have a teenage son and daughter in addition to Ben. But I also know that kids can be unpredictable. These kids were both those things: good and unpredictable.

As Ben sat alone at a picnic table working through his anger, first one, then another, and then finally the whole group of youth gathered around him and "loved on" him.

I was overcome by tears. These amazing youth surrounded Ben with patient support and caring. In those ten or so beautiful minutes, they demonstrated everything anyone ever needs to know about Christ-like love and compassion. Their simple act of friendship lifted Ben, and broke me.

This is what welcome looks like. This is inclusion. These are simple acts of kindness done toward the least of these. This moment is a human triumph. Here there are no "special needs," only a friend in need.

Thanks, kids, for relieving a weary dad, and for being a friend to Ben! Thanks for sharing the love.

Maybe the rest of us can go and do likewise.

It's been years since I wrote on this blog page. About four of them, in fact. A ton of life (sometimes a ton of bricks, at other times a ton of refreshing water) has happened. I'm thinking I might just begin to unpack some of the last few years here on this page, and think out loud about some of the things that have been and continue to be on my mind.

Most likely what will emerge is a hodgepodge of thoughts and feelings framed by a personal story, situated in the context of a larger story. Both are stories of human frailty, deep pain, courageous struggle and a flood of grace. Along the way there is struggle; in the end there is joy.

The story will fan out in retrospect and into the future from today, the first day of my life that I have been unemployed. I am here because I made the choice to be, although every choice has experience and reasons behind it. After a 24 year career working for the church, my next vocational pursuit will be outside the church. All previous changes have come because the church called me to a new role. This time around, I'll be looking for doors to open in strange and unknown places.

And I am ready.

Here I go.

You're invited to go with me as I write and sing and pray, and stretch into and embrace a new day.