AS: What is your reaction to being identified as an exemplar of resilience?

SE: Laughter is my first response. I think it was surprising and humbling. What is weird about getting older and going through life is that things don鈥檛 get easier; they get more complicated. There have been elements of my faith that one time made a lot of sense but need to keep expanding alongside my lived experience.

I think what people see in me, in terms of resilience, is a willingness to see questions that arise about faith not as dead ends, but as doorways that open up possibility. If you are thinking, 鈥淚 don鈥檛 know what to believe in that anymore,鈥� you can see that as an ending or as a doorway to a deeper conversation. I鈥檝e been curious in those places, like 鈥淲ell where does this doorway go to?鈥�

AS: What has helped you develop resilience in the midst of the unknown?

SE: As I鈥檝e continued in my faith, I have had enough experience with God that I see him interacting and providentially leading in my life so that when I come across the new, the mysterious, the unknown, I can infer that that same providence is acting in this unknownness. It鈥檚 a deep sense of trust, and it gets deeper as every situation requires more trust. Even if I am angry or don鈥檛 like this place in my life, there is a sense that God loves me, that these circumstances are where I am invited into conversation with God. So I ask, 鈥淲hat is the conversation that I can have only from here? How can I learn here? Who is my teacher, and what am I discovering about myself and the world?鈥�

An early contributor to my resilience was seeing models of dynamic faith through the lives of adults who were involved in an organization I was a part of when I was younger, Alongside Ministries. What is consistent in my faith now is practicing prayerful silence and solitude, taking times of moments of quiet and to allow myself to process the life I am in, to have a hidden practice of prayer and listening. I also meet with a spiritual director.

AS: The three pillars of resilience we talk about in the Resilient Leaders Project are People, Practices, and Purpose. There are two books you have co-created, with Justin McRoberts, that I think invite people into resilient practices and help them clarify purpose: and . The books use art and text to make space for those curious conversations with God that you鈥檝e been talking about. What is it about art that facilitates conversation with God and self?

SE: A great question to ask about art is 鈥渨hat does it mean?鈥� Another great question to ask is 鈥渨hat is it pulling out of you?鈥�… because one of the wonderful functions that art has is that it becomes an excavation tool. It helps us get in touch with the deepest conversations that we are having. Have you ever been in the car, turned on the radio, and a particular song was playing that you turned up the volume loudly and exclaimed 鈥渢his is my song!鈥� What are you saying in the moment? Somehow the artist lyrically and sonically perfectly described what it鈥檚 like to be in your own skin. They helped you get in touch with the honest truth about you鈥� and honesty is the doorway to a conversation with God.

AS: Many people develop resilience through an experience of burnout, a leadership crucible, or a personal crisis. You have explored your own ministry burnout experience in your one-man play, We Are Not Troubled Guests. Having seen the show, what was really powerful to me was your willingness to dive deep into your pain, to explore those places of hurt and harm instead of numbing them. In the play, you (literally) painted a picture of how resilient purpose can develop as the willingness to take apart all that had been so carefully constructed resulted in a new, more organic sense of calling. Do you think everyone needs to have an experience like this to truly develop resilience, or do you think skills can be taught and implemented ahead of those experiences?

SE: It feels like a catch-22 in a way. The best way to learn health can be from your unhealth, and failure can be the greatest teacher. But if you see someone on a really negative path, you don鈥檛 tell them to keep moving toward burnout. But, in some ways, I kind of think you might have to have this type of experience; what that looks like is different for each person. In part that is because there will always be part of your false self that will drive you to a place that is a dead-end, whether that is a need for accomplishment or serving in a way that is more about you than about others. There has to be the breaking of that ideal of your false self. The breaking of it can reveal a truer thing.

AS: Your latest performance piece, Say Yes: A Liturgy of Not Giving Up on Yourself, addresses this idea of letting going of that false self to embrace a wider sense of purpose. Can you tell us a little more about it?

SE: It鈥檚 a conversation鈥攗sing story-teaching, participation, humor, and image curation鈥攁bout who we are, why we are here, and what is the possible future that lies before us. It鈥檚 about the death of a dream and the overwhelming voice of Giving Up鈥攁nd it鈥檚 about redeeming those things unto deeper hopes and vocation.

Liturgy simply means 鈥渢he work of the people.鈥� So when we gather together, I will be the story sherpa, I will do the heavy lifting, but it鈥檚 really a space to open up a conversation with your own life. We do together because it is through the forms of story, art, imagery, singing, comedy, and participation that we begin to slowly untie the narratives that we tell ourselves. And the magic that happens at the end is that we are able to see new possibilities for the future.

I wanted to make a church service about suicide鈥� because I鈥檝e never been to one. I think one of the hardest things about the miracle of life is that sometimes you come to a place where you don鈥檛 want the miracle anymore. Why is that? And how do you talk to the Giver of that miracle about it? Say Yes in my attempt to enter into that conversation with an audience.

You can restore your inner resilience and learn how to live into your purpose through the . Learn more and apply today.

The post Resilience in the Unknown: An Interview with Artist Scott Erickson appeared first on 天美视频 of Theology & Psychology.

My spouse walked in the door and sighed. He鈥檇 been at a meeting of our church鈥檚 leaders and he expressed his concern that a church staff member might be struggling. I instantly felt my chest tighten, constricting my breath. This anxiety had become a familiar feeling as my husband and I had taken on significant lay leadership in our church. We focus on staff care, and our congregation has experienced several years of major transitions. I felt like Nehemiah rebuilding the temple while under duress. Half of Nehemiah鈥檚 workers carried and placed the stones; the other half stood vigil with spears. I sensed I was trying to do both, with the weight of a stone in one hand and burden of upholding a spear in the other hand.

鈥淚 think we need a leadership sabbatical,鈥� I told my husband. 鈥淚 can鈥檛 carry this kind of weight anymore.鈥�

鈥淲ell,鈥� he responded kindly, 鈥淚 guess we are just going to have to find a different way to carry it.鈥�

In another role in my life, as the researcher on 天美视频鈥檚 Resilient Leaders Project, I conducted a survey of more than 100 Christian leaders to assess their current practices and needs. One of the most significant findings was that leaders who disengage from their ministry work on a daily basis reported a higher level of satisfaction in all three categories we measured: personal spiritual life, rest and renewal, and emotional support. This correlation makes sense considering that the time spent not working can be invested in relationships, in rest, and in having a spiritual life that is rooted not in your work but in your primary identity as the Beloved of God.

The ability to disengage with one鈥檚 ministry vocation is a key to resilience. In fact, our ability to stay in ministry over the long run may depend on our ability to walk away from it every day.

鈥淥ur ability to stay in ministry over the long run may depend on our ability to walk away from it every day.鈥�

But in spite of the dramatic positive effect of 鈥渨alking away,鈥� less than one third of our survey participants said they disengaged with their work daily. Thirty-nine percent of participants said they disengaged weekly, and 23 percent reported that they are able to disengage only monthly, quarterly, or annually. The remaining 7 percent of participants indicated that they do not often鈥攅ven annually鈥攆ully disengage from their work.

This consuming engagement is understandable: vocation brings meaning to our lives, and our responsibilities are real. Altruism is a characteristic of many who choose ministry, with martyrdom a consistent temptation. Ministry is full of dual relationships: how do you define when you are giving or receiving care as a leader and when you are giving or receiving care as a friend? How do you not talk about the work when the work is one of the main things you have in common?

Daily disengagement is not just the absence of mental or physical work; it鈥檚 a willing emotional detachment from the perceived weight of leadership. It鈥檚 collaboratively setting boundaries in relationships and in our souls. It is helpful to leave the building, stop checking email at home, and have separate work and personal phones. But you have not truly disengaged if you are writing a sermon in the shower, replaying an interaction over and over in your mind, or constricting your breath from the stress of how you carry your vocation.

Developing rituals or positive habits can help us disengage emotionally and physically. A former ministry colleague who does intercessory prayer carries a crucifix in her pocket. When she has finished praying for an individual, she fingers her crucifix as a way of symbolizing that she is transferring to Jesus the weight of the suffering while also acknowledging the limits of her own control over situations. Jes Kast, a minister in the United Church of Christ, goes to the gym after work; she says that releasing the conversations and concerns of ministry in a physical way allows her to return home with a greater peace in her body.

The failure to disengage is an idolatry of sorts: we make a God of ourselves when we try to carry ministry like Atlas carries the sky. (In Greek mythology, Zeus punished Atlas by forcing him to hold up the sky鈥攁lso called the heavens鈥攆or eternity.) For me, releasing this idolatrous burden means challenging my self-talk that says, 鈥淲ithout me, the sky will fall. Without me, this ministry will fall apart.鈥� Releasing this burden means remembering that this church is God鈥檚, and God is free to do with it whatever God pleases.

鈥淭he failure to disengage is an idolatry of sorts: we make a God of ourselves when we try to carry ministry like Atlas carries the sky.鈥�

God鈥檚 work does not have a one-to-one correspondence to our efforts. God鈥檚 work is much more mysterious and magical than we often notice. In the parables of Jesus, growth in the kingdom of God is an unfathomable, organic process. We do not know how it happens, only that it does.

[Jesus] also said, 鈥淭his is what the kingdom of God is like. A man scatters seed on the ground. Night and day, whether he sleeps or gets up, the seed sprouts and grows, though he does not know how. All by itself the soil produces grain鈥攆irst the stalk, then the head, then the full kernel in the head. As soon as the grain is ripe, he puts the sickle to it, because the harvest has come.鈥� Mark 4:26-29 (NIV)

The kingdom grows while we sleep; our daily disengagement does not disrail the work of God. In truth, it is the opposite: God offers us this disengaged rest as a gift of love.

鈥淚t鈥檚 useless to rise early and go to bed late, and work your worried fingers to the bone. Don鈥檛 you know he enjoys giving rest to those he loves?鈥� Psalm 127:2 (MSG)

One practice I鈥檝e developed to help me disengage is having clarifying conversations with my friends about when we will and will not discuss ministry. I also don鈥檛 do chores after 9:00pm鈥攁 practice that was crucial to my resilience when my kids were little. A habit that helps me transition to resting brain is to cuddle up to my spouse and watch a show on Netflix. As a person who has a hard time disengaging mentally, I need my mind engaged in a story that is not my own. The nearness of my spouse reminds me to breathe.

Though our church is rebuilding our figurative temple, the community we are building is God鈥檚. If I鈥檓 going to be able to see this new work of God through to its completion, I鈥檓 going to have to let God carry the weight of our faith community. God has called me to spend my days building or protecting鈥攍ifting the stones or holding the spear, but not both at the same time. Yet God has equally called me to disengage in the evenings, to walk away, to let our magical and mysterious God grow the kingdom while I rest.

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