Category: Leadership & Spiritual Life

I had just started my practicum at Pine Grover Recovery Center in Hattiesburg, Mississippi.  I was working as an intern in the Therapeutic Arts Therapy department. It was a team of fun, creative, and caring people and for Valentine’s Day we were raising money for charity by “delivering” singing valentines to the staff.  We worked hard to playfully surprise and embarrass the staff with our bad singing, flowers, and confetti. 

By Noon there was confetti all over the building. I thought about the mess we were making and that if one of us did not clean it up, the custodian would have to do extra work.  I decided to vacuum the floors myself.  I found the vacuum and began cleaning up, perhaps feeling a bit too much pride in being such a great “servant leader”. 

That’s why my encounter with Sheila really ticked me off!

I had finished the hall and I was about to start on the community room when she shouted at me, “Turn that thing off and get out of here right now!”

My pride immediately turned to embarrassment.  I was trying to help but I guessed that I had majorly screwed up.  She was livid. 

I put up the vacuum and walked back to my office.  As I walked, my embarrassment slowly escalated into anger.

“That was so rude and disrespectful of her!  I was just trying to help!” I thought.

I was hoping that someone from the Therapeutic Arts team would come into the office so that I could tell them how rude and disrespectful Sheila had been to me.  Perhaps they would take my side and maybe even share some of their own frustrations with Sheila that might make me feel less alone.  But no one came, and eventually, I began praying about my feelings. 

As I prayed, I remembered something I had learned from my professor in class.  It was about the healing power of direct, non-defensive, communication and the divisive and destructive nature of indirect communication.   She taught us how to frame our concerns in assertive but respectful ways, to resist the natural human temptation to seek allies, and speak “to people” not “about people.”

Still, actually doing this was new for me. I was frightened to talk with Sheila.  I had no clue how she would respond.  What if she escalated the argument?  That would be very uncomfortable?  Still, I wanted to change my way of responding.  So, I resolved to talk to her openly, non-defensively, and respectfully.

Calmly, but with a good bit of nervousness in my voice, I told her that I was angry that she had snapped at me, that I was trying to be helpful, and that I felt dismissed and disrespected.  I also told her that I wanted us to both speak respectfully to each other in the future and I wanted us to have a supportive relationship.

To my surprise, Sheila, apologized for yelling at me and said that she understood my perspective.  She also told me something I did not know.  A few minutes before had I entered the community room and turned on the loud vacuum, a fight had broken out between two clients.  Everyone on the floor was on edge.

I told her that I was sorry that I had added to the tension.  She thanked me and I thanked her.  From that day forward, Sheila and I were friends.  I learned that she actually had a great sense of humor and we laughed a lot with each other over the next few months.  I am glad I tried something new that day.  Instead of making a mess, I made a friend. 

I would like to say that since then I have never triangulated, came at, or overreacted to anyone. I am still learning to recognize rising anxiety in myself, and in others, and respond it in ways that are more healthy.

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One of the most helpful things for me has been having a supportive group of people who are also genuinely seeking to grow in this same way.  If you believe you might find this kind of group helpful, please let me know.

I initially envisioned this a clergy group. However, a friend suggested I open it up to anyone. So I am. If I have enough clergy we will have a group that is only clergy and another group for those who are not clergy. If we do not have enough for two groups or more we will have a mixed group. Neither group will be theological or doctrinal.

Groups will be no larger than 6 people and will meet in person. We will seek to find a day and time that woks for everyone. Cost is $30 per month. Interested? Email me at: [email protected]

Written by Christine Dietz, Therapist & Spiritual Director

As a child, I was a mystic and a writer. I loved to wander outside, make nests in the tall grass, dream on the big pink granite rock in the field. I wrote poems and stories in school, when I was supposed to be reading about Dick and Sally. The adults in my life seemed to think that a bright child who read the dictionary and wrote poems should be directed toward math and science. I resisted, but my dreamy afternoons on the rock in the field were soon over. So, apparently, was my writing voice. My creative writing efforts in undergraduate school received a lukewarm response, and I changed my major to sociology. My father, a scientist, was pleased.

Fast forward to 2001. Exhausted from my battle for tenure at the University where I taught, I stumbled into the office of an expressive therapist. The years of writing a dissertation and journal articles had taken its toll. I said, “I have lost my creativity and my spirituality.” I didn’t know it then, but my spiritual journey had begun. Two years later, I was training to become a spiritual companion and leaving academia.

This year, I will celebrate my 20^th anniversary as a spiritual companion. My definition of spiritual companionship is, “To walk with others as they become who they were created to be.” As people open themselves to being present, listening to and acting upon the movement, impulses and images of the Divine within them, I notice that they often become more creative. Some turn to writing – stories, essays or poetry. Others to photography or art. Is there an inherent link between creativity and spirituality?

I love the creation stories in Genesis. Genesis 27 says, “And God created humankind in the divine image, creating it in the image of God—creating them male and female.” (The Contemporary Torah, Jewish Publication Society, 2006). According to this story, we are created in the image and likeness of God. We are both the result of and part of the creative force that brought forth all that is. Creativity is our birthright. In her article, “Creativity as Spiritual Practice,” Rabbi Adina Allen describes the creative process as a partnership with the Divine.

“What this relationship requires of us is an openness to the creative process: a willingness to venture into the unknown, the ability to be present in the moment, an openness to our intuition and allowing ourselves to follow where it leads us, and a deep humility in knowing that nothing we bring into the world is ours alone.” (Source: My Jewish Learning).

This is exactly what happens in spiritual companionship.

In 2016, I offered “Wisdom Stories: A Class for Elders in Training,” an exploration of personal autobiography, at the Center. I emphasized that everyone was a writer, free to ignore the “rules” they had learned about how to write and what was “good.” I offered writing prompts, which they were free to ignore, and words of encouragement from Natalie Goldberg, Julia Cameron or Anne Lamott. As listeners, we focused on how their stories touched us, and what spoke to us, without praise or criticism. In 2018, I offered another 8 week class. The group asked for more. I offered another 8 weeks. The group asked for more yet again. And so I said, “let’s try this as a spiritual direction group.”

Seven years later, we continue to meet monthly. I have stopped offering prompts – the writers follow their own interests and instincts. They have stopped trying to follow the “rules,” expressing what is emerging inside them. Their voices are more powerful, authentic and free, as a sense of play, deep grief or a new form emerges. We notice that, when one writer expresses their deep truth it resonates with all of us—we’ve been there, too. And often, we notice a core theme or experience connecting the writings in a particular session. Each time we meet, I feel awe, wonder and gratitude at how this process opens us to the presence of the Divine and our creative expression. And my frozen creativity is beginning to thaw.

Please, if you will, enjoy an example from one of our writers, Ken Rummer, who felt called to share his expression in a piece titled “In the Fog.”

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Christine Dietz, LISW, DMin, PhD, is a psychotherapist and spiritual companion dedicated to helping individuals reconnect to their innate wholeness and renew their sense of hope and possibility. With over 40 years of experience in hospitals, community mental health, and private practice, she specializes in supporting those navigating anxiety, depression, life transitions, chronic illness, grief, LGBTQ+ concerns, and spiritual direction. Christine is a Licensed Independent Clinical Social Worker and spiritual director with an MSW from the University of Iowa, a PhD in Sociology from SUNY Buffalo, and a DMin from the Graduate Theological Foundation. She is also a graduate of the Lev Shomea Training Program for Spiritual Direction in the Jewish Tradition. Passionate about storytelling, Christine is a writer, avid reader, and amateur photographer with a deep interest in spirituality, particularly Jewish spirituality. She enjoys teaching adult education at her synagogue and currently works part-time at Mind and Spirit Counseling Center, offering telehealth services to individuals from all faiths and spiritual traditions, as well as those with none.

Written by Paul Witmer, Co-Director of PrairieFire

“Sometimes the best map will not guide you

You can’t see what’s ’round the bend

Sometimes the road leads through dark places

Sometimes the darkness is your friend”

                                             Bruce Cockburn, Pacing the Cage

As we make our way through these darkened days of the Winter Solstice, I find myself contemplating anew the Dark Night of the Soul.  In addition to being a spiritual classic in the Christian contemplative tradition, written by St. John of the Cross, it can also describe a part of the spiritual journey for modern mystics.  So, I thought I’d share some thoughts about the Dark Night, and how Spiritual Direction can be a great tool for navigating what many have experienced as desolation, desperation and the perceived abandonment of God.

First, some clarifying remarks about the Dark Night of the Soul, and what we understand in modern psychology as Clinical Depression.  They are not the same.  We sometimes throw around the phrase “Dark Night of the Soul” to describe a period of depression or long bouts of melancholy.  It can be both, but it’s important to recognize that the spiritual journey that includes a sojourn through the Dark Night is not the same experience as clinical depression.  A Spiritual Director with good training and awareness can help distinguish the difference, and hopefully refer you for mental health counseling, treatment and the proper care of a physician if indeed it is clinical depression you are experiencing.  AND, that same Spiritual Director, with awareness and compassion, may sense that the Dark Night you are navigating is more of a spiritual experience to be explored, rather than a mental health condition to be medicated or otherwise treated.

It’s also important to recognize that therapeutic counseling and treatment can work in tandem with Spiritual Direction.  These are good conversations for you to be having with all the providers involved in your care.

So, what is the Dark Night of the Soul in the spiritual tradition?  Great mystics in the Christian Contemplative tradition have explored darkness in the spiritual journey.  In particular, the Spanish Mystics, St. John of the Cross and St. Teresa of Avilla (15^th century contemporaries and Spiritual Directors) are known for their work with what they called la noche oscura.  Gerald May, M.D. has a great work, The Dark Night of the Soul: A Psychiatrist Explores the Connection Between Darkness and Spiritual Growth. (2004, HarperCollins). Here’s May on that very connection:

When we speak of darkness today, we are often referring to something sinister, as in “powers of darkness” or the “Dark side.”  As I’ve said before, this is not what Teresa and John mean when they used the Spanish word for dark, oscura. For them, it simply means “obscure.”  In the same way that things are difficult to see at night, the deepest relationship between God and person Is hidden from our conscious awareness.

In speaking of la noche oscura, the dark night of the soul, John is addressing something mysterious and unknown, but by no means sinister or evil.  It is instead profoundly sacred and precious beyond all imagining.  John says the dark night of the soul is “happy,” “glad,” “guiding,” and full of “absolute grace.” It is the secret way in which God not only liberates us from our attachments and idolatries, but also brings us to the realization of our true nature. The night is the means by which we find our heart’s desire, our freedom for love. (May, p. 67)

The work of Spiritual Direction is an invitation to go deeper, and with the Dark Night, the invitation is to go deeper into darkness—not sinister or evil, but obscure, unknown, unseen—and I might add unfelt.  I doubt Bruce Cockburn is singing about the spiritual experience of the dark night, but his words sure ring true for me: “Sometimes the best map will not guide you/ You can’t see what’s ’round the bend.”  Where the best maps might fail you, a companion who’s been on the path before can be a life-saving presence and guide. And, to take this particular metaphor one step further, we might say that a Spiritual Director can share the tools of your tradition that can serve as a compass.  So, map or no map, you might never lose contact with True North. (Though sometimes, even the sense of True North can be fleeting in the darkness.)

This path of obscurity can be a place of great learning and insight.  It’s also no damn fun at all.  Just in case I’ve romanticized the idea too much, this is important to name. It can be a place of desolation, desperation and abandonment. But it is often at the end of our rope that we find the capacity for deep trust and a willingness to let go into the goodness of God. It may be that the rope we’ve been clinging on to so desperately is nothing more than half truths and idols—things that are not God.  Thus, May describes this process as one of moving into freedom.

My own journey has included serious struggles with clinical depression that were appropriately treated with counseling and medication, for which I’m grateful.  And, there were literal long nights of insomnia and fitful solitude that were calling me into a place of deep spiritual exploration, so Spiritual Direction was a lifeline that helped me navigate the unknown path ahead for me.  I remember leaning heavily into the companionship of the Psalmists who I felt had walked this desolate road before me.  “Tears have been my bread all night long,” (Ps. 42) and “In the night, my heart also instructs me.” (Ps. 16)

Somewhere along the way of obscurity was the painful but necessary realization that my ideas about God, and even my deeply felt experiences of God were not God.  This is a hard place to be and not a good place to be alone.  So, the gift of Spiritual Direction and a companion by my side was the supportive presence that made possible my growth into freedom.  Sometimes the road leads through dark places/Sometimes the darkness is your friend”  And sometimes, a friend of a friend can hold your hand along the way.

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Paul Witmer, Co-Director of PrairieFire, is ordained in the United Church of Christ. Paul has served as a pastor for more than 30 years in rural and suburban settings, including a new church start in the 90s here in Iowa. He has extensive experience teaching contemplative practices, leading retreats, and working with folks in twelve-step recovery.

A trained Spiritual Director, Paul also works with many in developing deep listening skills and growing on the spiritual journey, which has included many years of teaching and leading with the PrairieFire program. As an artist and musician, Paul is especially drawn to the arts as creative expression and experience of the Divine.

Paul currently serves as the lead pastor for Women at the Well, a prison congregation of the United Methodist Church at the Iowa women’s prison in Mitchellville, Iowa. Paul is a graduate of Southwestern University (Georgetown, TX) and Eden Seminary (St. Louis, MO). He resides with his wife in Urbandale, and between them they have five grown children and four grandchildren.

Written by Andrea Severson, Licensed Mental Health Counselor & Spiritual Director

A little more than a decade ago, I was a young pastor with two congregations, a husband and two small children. My churches and my family were all wonderful, but I struggled with finding balance and finding myself in the midst of my roles and responsibilities. I began PrairieFire desperately seeking to revitalize my spiritual life and to find some peace and clarity. I hoped it would provide a sense of contentment and confidence that would enable me to be the pastor (and wife and mom) that I thought I was supposed to be. I didn’t anticipate just how it would turn my life upside down!

Within a year of beginning PrairieFire, I’d applied to Drake’s counseling program; I began taking classes part-time in the summer. Two years later, I graduated from PrairieFire in the midst of saying goodbye to the churches I served and moving to begin as a very part-time chaplain and a full-time student.  (I took the husband and children with me!)  Three years later, I completed the PrairieFire third year practicum in spiritual direction and began interning as a mental health counselor at what was then the Des Moines Pastoral Counseling Center (now Mind & Spirit Counseling Center). Four years later, I graduated from Drake and began working as a clinician and spiritual director at the Center.

All of these changes in my life unfolded through a process of growth that invited me to see God, myself and my vocational calling in new ways. Rather than finally becoming the person I thought I was supposed to be, I leaned in to loving and living more fully as the person I actually was. I began to consider the ways that my passions and my heart’s deepest longings might reflect God’s desires for me. Call became less about obligation and more about invitation. 

It would be impossible to identify every person and experience that nurtured this growth, but I will name two distinct moments that served as turning points along the way. The first is a listening exercise we were asked to do early in my second year of PrairieFire. As I was sharing with my partner about a change I was exploring, Mary Jo asked me a simple question: “What do you want?” I was startled to discover how unprepared I was to answer the question!  While I had given a lot of consideration to what other people—and God—might want or need or expect, it hadn’t occurred to me to think about my own experience. As I was finding my way, that question encouraged to see myself as a person worth considering too. The second moment that stands out is a conversation I had with my spiritual director several months later as I was discerning next steps vocationally. She asked a clarifying question about a particular possibility, and my candid response expressed a sense of unfreedom so strong that I shocked myself! My spiritual director sat with me in silence that allowed me to hear the truth my heart was speaking. I left that session with a great deal more clarity than I had when it began.

We live lives that often feel rushed, distracted, overly busy and anxious. We tend towards quick fixes that provide some instant relief or gratification rather than allowing ourselves (or others) to slow down and to be in the discomfort of stillness, uncertainty and ambiguity. I still find that the quiet truth of my spirit, the call of the Divine in my life, can get lost in the clamor of voices in the world around me. This is why spiritual community and spiritual direction matter to me. I don’t generally need advice or validation, though that doesn’t stop me for seeking both at times. What I need is someone who will invite me to notice the sacredness of time and space, who will be present with patience and compassion to welcome the most true and honest version of myself, who will listen deeply for the wisdom within, and who will trust the unfolding of my path, even when I don’t. I am truly grateful for those who have—and do—come alongside me to meet these needs.

I hope that you have trusted people in your life who are present with you to listen for the truth your heart speaks. If you are looking to deepen your own sense of community and connection with deep listeners, you might consider finding a spiritual director or learning more about PrairieFire. (Our next class will begin in September 2025.)  Keep in mind that there are no guarantees about what you might discover along the way… it might just turn your life upside down!

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Andrea Severson, (she/her), Co-Director of PrairieFire, is a spiritual director and Licensed Mental Health Counselor at Mind & Spirit Counseling Center and an ordained elder in the United Methodist Church. Her degrees include a Master of Science in counseling from Drake University and a Master of Divinity from Perkins School of Theology at Southern Methodist University. She is a member of Spiritual Directors International and graduate of the PrairieFire program. Andrea is grateful for opportunities to hear the unique stories of others, to explore intersections between mind, body and spirit and to bear witness to the work of the Sacred through her work in spiritual direction and counseling. In her practice, she works with adults from a variety of backgrounds and faith traditions.  Outside of work, Andrea enjoys reading historical fiction, listening to live music and camping with her family.

Parker Palmer suggests that it is actually a good thing to be “disillusioned.” So, whenever I find myself saying “I feel disillusioned,” I am learning to say, “Thank you,” because I do not believe my life is better in any way by living in an illusion. One of the gifts of meeting with a Spiritual Director is the gift of disillusionment.

In one of our monthly conversations, I was particularly frustrated, and angry, with a loved one who was not willing to make a change that I believed was very important. Perhaps even more troubling, I was tormented by my inability to accept in my heart, that which I knew to be true in my head. I did not have the power to make them change in any lasting way. I had shared my concern. I had asked for them to change, but they were not willing to make the change.

I knew that, but I could not accept it for some reason.

Frustrated, I put my Spiritual Director on the spot. I sensed he had been where I was and had moved through the experience wiser and more at peace. I wanted that so badly for myself.

“How did you do it?” I asked. I thought he might give the question back to me, which is the usual way of spiritual direction. I respect and practice that myself, but sometimes the personal experience of the director is helpful. I am thankful that he sensed that this was one of those times.

He said, “One day I realized that the script I was following was simply not true.”

“What was that,” I asked.

“That if I was good, played by the rules, and did all of the right things, everything in my life would work out great.”

As I let his words sink in, I could feel my stone heart soften. “Me too.” I said.

Then, I had a strange vision. Actually, it was a memory of a scene from the movie, “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.” But it was indeed a sort of “vision” or epiphany.

Farris is a fun, playful, and mischievous teenager who everyone loves except his big sister, Jeanie. She despises him because he breaks rules, has a good time doing it and never gets caught.

Watching the movie as a teen, I could relate to her and I was not sure that I “approved” of the movie because of the way in which Ferris was presented as “the good guy.” After all, he was skipping school, sneaking out of the house and even crashing a Chicago parade by the end of the movie. He was not cruel or destructive. Still, he was not a very well-behaved young man.

As the movie draws to a close, Jeanie has been arrested as a result of the failure of her scheme to “bust” Ferris. She is sitting at the police station by a rough looking teenager in jeans and a leather biker jacket. As they talk, she expresses her anger and frustration about her brother:

Jeanie: All right, you want to know what’s wrong?

Young Man: I know what’s wrong, I just want to hear you say it.

Jeanie: In a nutshell, I hate my brother! How’s that? . . . He was ditching school. When I went home to check, some guy was there. The cops picked me up for making a “phony” call.

Young Man: What do you care if your brother ditches school?

Jeanie: Everybody else has to go.

Young Man: You could ditch . . .

Moments later we see them passionately kissing as her mother arrives to pick her up.

Not only did I recognize the false script that had me stuck, I also realized that I was not even the right person for the part. Beyond what is moral and loving, I am not all that interested in being well behaved. I never have been.

I am all about fun and mischief. I bristle at the words “should” and “ought.” I don’t believe “getting all of my work done before having fun” is even possible, and most importantly, I have come to accept that “seeking the best,” as if it were an actual destination, is toxic. “The best,” while inspirational as a general trajectory, is toxic when I think of it as a specific destination. Why? Because there is no “there” there. There is no objective way to define “the best” or even “my best.” I can always imagine better. I am never “good enough” if the measure of my effort or my being is “the best.”

I credit this awareness to another Spiritual Director who, upon noticing my tendency to use the phrase “my best self” in our conversations suggested, “Perhaps instead of worrying about whether you are always bringing ‘your best self’ to every situation, you might consider that it is okay to show up as your ‘good enough self.’

I am so glad she said that because I love that guy! He’s a hoot!

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If you’re seeking deeper insight and guidance on your own spiritual journey, we invite you to explore the transformative opportunities available through spiritual direction at Mind & Spirit Counseling Center. Discover how you can connect with experienced mentors, like Chris, who can help illuminate your path. Read more here to learn and take the next step toward a more fulfilled spiritual life!

We will also be open to receiving applications for the upcoming PrairieFire Program soon. For more details, please click here and do not hesitate to contact us if you’re interested in joining!

At Mind & Spirit Counseling Center, we are filled with joy and gratitude as we celebrate the remarkable achievements of twelve individuals who have recently become our next cohort of PrairieFire Graduates. This milestone marks not just the completion of their training, but a testament to their dedication, growth, and the profound journey they have undertaken.

Over the past year, these graduates embarked on a transformative journey through PrairieFire, a unique program designed to deepen spiritual understanding and enhance the ability to companion others on their spiritual paths. Their commitment to extending their learning for a third year is a reflection of their passion for developing their listening skills and their earnest desire to support others in their spiritual explorations.

The PrairieFire program has been a beacon of hope and renewal for those seeking to clear the inner clutter that obscures their connection to their true selves. Through rigorous self-reflection and community support, participants like our graduates have learned to navigate their own spiritual landscapes, and in doing so, they have become more effective guides for others.

Our celebration honored not just the academic achievements of these graduates, but also their personal growth and the gifts they bring to their communities. Their perseverance and openness have paved the way for them to earn their certificates of completion—a symbol of their hard work, insight, and the spiritual maturity they have developed over their time with us.

For those unfamiliar with PrairieFire, it is a two-year program dedicated to spiritual renewal, deepening, and formation. PrairieFire provides a safe and sacred environment where participants can clear their inner terrain, allowing new growth to flourish. Within this supportive community, individuals explore their beliefs, challenge negative attitudes, and uncover the divine nature present in their everyday lives. This transformative process involves confronting harmful thinking and embracing a more profound understanding of oneself and one’s relationship with the divine.

Mind & Spirit Counseling Center will be accepting applications for the next PrairieFire class starting January 1, 2025. If you are interested in joining a community dedicated to spiritual growth and renewal, we encourage you to consider applying. You can contact Andrea Severson with any questions or to be added to our interests list.

As we reflect on the journey of our recent graduates, we are reminded of the power of perseverance, community, and spiritual dedication. We are honored to have played a role in their journey and look forward to the continued impact they will make in the lives of those they encounter.

Congratulations to our PrairieFire graduates—your journey is just beginning, and we are excited to see where it leads you.

Putting Down The Pushers

by Chris Waddle, Director of Leadership and Spiritual Life

May 2021 –If anyone asks me what I love most about being a part of the Des Moines Pastoral Counseling Center, “the people” is always at the top of that list. When I consider the employees at The Center as well as the external partners with whom I work, I feel so fortunate.

One person, with whom it has been a great joy to work, is Rev. Bill Selby from the Center for Pastoral Effectiveness of the Rockies. Bill has been a mentor to me and it has been great to partner with him for a seminar and three small groups devoted to leadership as an emotional process.

Bill offers a simple way to begin building emotional connection in any small group, including committee meetings. Invite each person to:

• Share your name.
• Tell a story about how you got your name.
• Tell a story about how you got here today.

He encourages leaders to take the time to do this kind of safe emotional sharing even though some may feel it is a “waste of time.” I can tell you from personal experience, it is not. It changes the nature of the group. It helps build empathy and trust. However it is also important to remember that if any new person is added to the group, this process must start over again. Why? Because adding anyone makes you a new group!

Bill also teaches that one of the most important things leaders can do is create “emotional space” when interacting with others. Anxiety has a constricting effect. Even in small amounts, such as when we are trying to keep to a schedule, or when we are not sure where a conversation is going, or when we are not sure we are being taken seriously, anxiety works against emotional connection. We become less playful, less creative, less flexible, less curious, and more emotionally reactive.

Bill suggests we create this emotional space, not by paying more attention to other’s emotional state, but to our own. In order to open up emotional space. Pay attention to “the pushers”.

We all have them and most come in one of these four emotionally-suffocating varieties.

Hurry up!

Be perfect!

Please others!

Be strong!

After we notice the “pusher” that is compressing the emotional space we can begin to give ourselves and others grace or “permission” to put down the pusher. Here is what this might look like:

Hurry up!. . .   No, there is time for us to talk and we do not have to do everything in this one conversation. It is ok to ask curious, and clarifying questions. It is ok to just enjoy being together.

Be perfect!. . .  No, I do not have to be perfect. I can be unsure, I can change my mind. If I am not sure what I believe or feel I can say so or even say “my best guess is.”  So can others. I don’t have to say it “the right way.” It is even ok to have an awkward conversation.

Please others!. . .   No, It is ok to say what I need or even what I just prefer. It is ok if others do not agree with me. It is ok for me to say “no” or “I do not want to talk about that.” It is ok for others to do the same.

Be strong!. . . No, no one is ever always strong. it is ok to be vulnerable. It is ok to show emotion. This is actually how strong emotional bonds are formed. Others do not have to play pretend roles of ‘always strong’ for me either, even those whom I admire for their strength. It is ok and human not to always be strong.

Which one of these, or perhaps another, has a tendency to compress your emotional space? What is your “primary pusher?”

Think of some conversations or contexts when you feel the pusher the most. Perhaps a particular group or a person comes to mind.

How might you create more emotional space in yourself and “put down the pushers?”

If you would like to learn more about leadership as an emotional process or if you have resources you wish to share with others, please let me know. You may email me at [email protected]

Your partner in hope and healing,

Chris

 

For more blog posts by Chris: www.dmpcc.org/Chris

What is faith?

by Chris Waddle, Director of Leadership and Spiritual Life

April 2021 — What is faith? I have heard faith described as “believing things you don’t really believe.” I’ve also heard faith defined as “believing things you cannot ultimately prove.” I like the latter better than the former. Still, it misses a bit of the point of faith to me. It seems to me faith is not primarily about believing beliefs. Beliefs matter. By this I mean core beliefs. Beliefs that relate to ultimate meeting and our relationships with God, creation, each other, and our selves. Still, faith is more than belief — it is about actions. It is about investing ourselves, being vulnerable, and taking risks. Faith is not a passive act of believing beliefs but a courageous act of risking ourselves based on those beliefs.

One day, when I was a pastor, I was visiting someone in his office. He was a collector of antiques and he invited me to sit down on this flimsy looking antique chair. I was honestly not sure whether or not it would support my weight. I considered just hovering over it and not putting my full weight on the chair. However, that was impossible since the chair had no arms, and I did not want to spend the whole meeting looking like I was sitting on the toilet. So I took a leap of faith and sat down. Thankfully, the chair did support me. This story is both an example of simple faith and a metaphor for all acts of faith.

Sitting on ancient chairs is easy compared with other leaps of faith in my life. One of the biggest leaps of faith that I ever made felt more to me like an abandonment of faith at the time. It came right on time. I was in my first year of college when another campus ministry invited our campus ministry to participate in a discussion about creation and evolution. We agreed to a discussion. However, what they had planned was more of a lecture.

I can sum up the whole presentation in three sentences:

• The Genesis creation story is scientifically accurate and historically true.
• If you believe in evolutionary theory you cannot be a Christian.
• We have biblically accurate dinosaur coloring books for sale at the table in the back.

I remember thinking to myself, “This is not science! This is The Flintstones! If this is where taking the Bible seriously is going to lead me, then I cannot be a Christian! Wait a minute! Why should I believe ANYTHING anyone taught me in church?”

I began questioning everything I had ever believed about God, Jesus, and my United Methodist Christian tradition. I also questioned every religious experience I’d ever had. I believed it was entirely possible, and most likely probable, that my religious experiences were just a combination of wishful thinking and emotion.

It was a gut wrenching experience. However, I was determined that I was not going to trust the full weight of my life on anything that could not stand up to my most rigorous questions. Just like that antique chair, I figured my Christian tradition, rooted in an unscientific world-view would crumble beneath the weight of my reason and I did not know where that would leave me. My whole world view and my most significant relationships were rooted in my church culture. However, I wanted to know the truth, even if it meant discarding my whole belief system.

Since this leap of faith, I have let go of some beliefs. Other beliefs I hold more loosely. Still, most of my core beliefs remain and I can tell you why I hold them and why I believe them to be rational and compelling. However, the truth that I found was not quite the truth I was seeking.

The truth I was seeking was a knock down drag out argument for the existence of God, the divinity of Jesus, and the loving, forgiving nature of God. What I discovered was that faith, by its very definition, can never have the kind of lock-down drag-out kind of proof I wanted. However, most of what makes life good and meaningful is a matter of faith and not ultimately testable and provable. I began to see that there is no life without faith even If I did let go of my belief in God. I also learned that the core beliefs of my United Methodist Christian tradition actually did take seriously the integration of science, reason, and experience. In taking the leap of faith to challenge my tradition I discovered an intellectual rigor to my tradition that I did not know was there. It welcomed and was even able to engage my most challenging questions. This allowed me to be more open to the possibility that my spiritual experiences were more than just wishful thinking and emotion. Of course, they could be. But that is the nature of faith and I am ok with that now.

I hesitate to say this because it seems that when I feel at peace with my beliefs is also when I have an experience that challenges me to grow once more. Still, there is a difference in me now. I just don’t get as worked up about it as I once did. I now have more perspective and, I dare say even faith, in the midst of my doubt. I’m not sure I even understand what I mean when I say this. However, let me share how I have experienced it.

I remember one morning, while in seminary, thinking to myself. “I’m not sure I really believe in God today.” Then I chuckled when I sensed God saying to me. “That’s OK Chris, I still believe in you.” and I went on with my day as usual. My freshman college “me” would not have found this compelling at all. . . but it is so very compelling to me now.

Back to my original point. Core beliefs matter but they are not the same as faith. Faith happens when I invest in and risk are when I am vulnerable based on my core beliefs. Faith is not a noun, it is a verb. Faith is not something we have. Faith is something we do, exercise, and practice. It always involves risk and it always involves vulnerability.

Dr. Brené Brown is an expert on courage and vulnerability. She is very quick to correct people when they say “I understand what you are saying, if I am vulnerable and live courageously, I might fail.”

“No,” she says, “I am saying if you are committed to a life of courage it will require you to be vulnerable and if you consistently live this way, you WILL fail many times.” While I know I am paraphrasing a bit, this is the spirit of her words and she is talking about the life of faith.

Since I was a young child I have sought to live prayerfully. As I have grown I have tried not to make decisions based on fear and have tried to listen and respond to what I believe the spirit of God is guiding me to be and do. However, things do not always work out. I have lost a job, I have lost money, I have lost friends, I have made mistakes, and, I have been an ass at times when I thought I was being faithful or prophetic. Faith has not always protected me from pain and loss, even when I have been prayerful and courageous. Still, living prayerfully and courageously has often helped me sense and avoid danger, endure pain and difficulty, and drawn me into life-giving relationships and experiences. I believe that most of what is best about me has come from big and small acts of faith.

If you have taken enough time to read this far then my guess is that you are somewhere on an intentional journey of faith. My question is “Who is on this journey with you?” Churches synagogues, mosques, temples, and other communities of faith can often be these kinds of communities. However, I find that we also need communities within and outside of these communities. We need a smaller circle of people with whom we can develop deep trust.

If you are looking for this kind of community, one option is the PrairieFire community at the Des Moines Pastoral Counseling Center. It has been a place where many people have discovered and rediscovered genuine courageous faith. If you’ve read this far, perhaps you might want to learn more about our next two-year community that begins this fall? Make no mistake, it will cost you something. You will not come out of the experience the same as you entered. However, I believe you will find that change a welcome one. If you would like to know more about this community of courageous faith please go to https://dmpcc.org/prairiefire/

Your partner in hope and healing.

Chris