What brought you to 天美视频?

Back in 1999, I went to a . I can remember sitting in this living room with nine other terrified women and I can remember talking about the story of the prodigal son. Hearing this story about this God who would defy cultural norms, lift up his gown, who would bear shame in order to pursue me鈥擨 just couldn’t imagine there could be a God so good. I was a new Christian at that time and so during that Recovery Week, there was some talk about this school Dan was building. It seemed like an impossibility for me because I didn鈥檛 finish my bachelor鈥檚 degree and we lived in Washington DC and we had four sons. But in 2003, I went back to school and completed a degree with a focus on resilience and at the same time, I applied to become a non-matriculated student at 天美视频 (which was then Mars Hill Graduate School). In 2007, I had completed my undergrad and by then had gotten accepted at MHGS as a student. We sold the family homestead in Washington DC, bought an RV, traveled across the country, and entered the school.

When you came to 天美视频, why did you decide to go through both the Master of Arts in Christian Studies and Master of Arts in Counseling Psychology programs?

Because I came in as a non-matriculated student, I had already taken some theology classes. So I already had some credit hours when I was coming in and I knew yes, I鈥檓 interested in the mind and in psychology, but I鈥檓 fervent with faith. Faith is a big thing for me. I didn鈥檛 become a believer until I was 37. I鈥檇 had a smattering of church experiences as a kid: Catholic, synagogue, unitarianism, and the Calvary Orthodox Presbyterian Church. I really had no clue. I knew the name 鈥楪od,鈥� but didn鈥檛 have any other awareness until I became a believer So, coming into the school I still had that hunger. I wanted to know more.

What did you hope you would be able to do following graduation?

Throughout the program, I felt I was growing. I really couldn鈥檛 understand or grasp what was after. It was almost like coming to MHGS was a dream come true. So, I couldn鈥檛 really make the shift to after. Where I started was square one of moving towards licensure. Did I have in mind to have a practice of my own, which I did for a short time, did I have anywhere in my mind working with women who were recovering from sexual trafficking? No. I don鈥檛 want it to sound cliche but it was a lot of prayer and staying connected to mentors and professors who had really impacted my life.

Tell us about the context where you serve now.

My main role is at The Well House where I am Director of Trauma Therapy and most recently a director of a trauma center we just created. The women come in or are recovered from referrals, from homeland security, local law enforcement, the streets, some are referred from other programs in the country, and some have come outside of the country. There鈥檚 no cookie-cutter way or here鈥檚 how you do this. I sit I listen to stories like Criminal Minds and Law & Order SVU鈥攖hey鈥檝e survived torture, not just trauma.

The work is really attuning with the women when they come in. When they come in they are highly traumatized and don鈥檛 trust anyone. Things like attunement, affect regulation, slowing down our words, our movements, explaining what we鈥檙e doing. The trauma center can hold two residents right now and I don鈥檛 believe there is another residential program in the country that has this high level of care for when they first arrive.

The most amazing thing we鈥檙e beginning to see is they鈥檙e staying longer. The women are terrified, so getting them to stay in one place 鈥攊t鈥檚 a hurdle to try and get them to stay. Now we鈥檙e finding that they鈥檙e staying. They can stay in the Trauma Center for two weeks and my vision is to build a foundation for them that helps them get back into their bodies. Help them to feel more stable. It鈥檚 all about choice, all about empowering them so they can see they have a choice. Then they move to an immediate shelter from the trauma center and that鈥檚 where I鈥檓 seeing they鈥檙e wanting to read, they鈥檙e reading Walter Bruggeman, John Elderidge, and . Quite a few of them now have read through the Healing Path and been moved by that. They鈥檙e going back into some of their earlier memories, so it鈥檚 not just what happened with my pimp, but earlier trauma. They鈥檙e able to get there and they鈥檙e not running! For me, for our staff, it鈥檚 like a taste of eternity, getting to sit and watch this transformation happen.

What does flourishing and service to God and neighbor look like in your life?

is not a word I鈥檝e thought a lot about. I鈥檝e used the word thrive, so flourish I think is similar where it鈥檚 not just healing. I think the ladies come in and I tell them you鈥檙e learning how to walk. In my mind, though, walking is not good. My bar is higher鈥擨 want to see them soar. It鈥檚 with these women, and it鈥檚 also with the staff. I鈥檓 working with staff at a nonprofit organization and we鈥檙e doing hard work. There鈥檚 secondary PTSD, burnout, and compassion fatigue. What does that look like to offer some inviting words of kindness and helps them to flourish as well?

Who are the people that support your flourishing, and what practices do you engage that help you flourish?

One of my residents a couple of years ago said to me, 鈥淪o Ms. Corinne, I’ve heard that a lot of therapists have their own therapists. Do you have your own?鈥� And it stopped me. I said, 鈥淯h-huh, I do.鈥� At the time I felt a little awkward, but now I鈥檝e gotten more comfortable to say a good therapist has her own therapist, engages in consultation, and is doing good training and finding places to continue to grow. People that have spoken into my life are and a number of other colleagues I consult with in Seattle.

Before coming to the school, I learned about control, and by God, I was going to be in control and make sure things went ok. That was one part of me. The other part was always living with dread. Getting counseling, good therapy, the Recovery week, and getting to work with Dan helped. Going through 天美视频 stretched me. It was hard work going through this school, but I don鈥檛 regret a moment of it. We鈥檙e doing something different here.

It wasn鈥檛 until I started doing the work with these women that I鈥檝e felt that this is my fit. Often the women will say, 鈥淐orinne why are you doing this work?鈥� My response to them is 鈥淲ell, I have a story too.鈥� I don鈥檛 go any further and they don鈥檛 ask. But these are words that I鈥檝e been thinking a lot about recently: I know what it鈥檚 like to be bought. I experienced that as a kid and as a young 20-something. I do know enough, so I鈥檓 doing this work and it鈥檚 such a fit. This is where I need to be for now. I鈥檓 growing into my sense of who I am. I continue my own therapy. And my faith continues to grow deeper into who this God is. So that prodigal son story, I can share that with the residents. I can pass it on and pay it forward, the gift that I received at that Recovery Week in 1999.

Learn more about our MA in Theology & Culture program.

Learn more about our MA in Counseling Psychology program.

The post Alumni Spotlight: An Interview with Corinne Vance appeared first on 天美视频 of Theology & Psychology.

Annie: 鈥淲hile I鈥檓 concerned about what you would think of as politics鈥攚hat would be in the political section of a newspaper鈥擨鈥檓 also thinking about the politics of being human, the politics of church, the relational dynamics between people and between groups. That鈥檚 kind of what I mean by political in the broader sense.鈥�

Annie is the host of , a podcast exploring the long and often problematic story of Christianity in the United States, grounded in the hope that by better understanding where other perspectives are coming from, we can be better conversation partners across difference and contribute to sustainable, collaborative social change.鈥� Her work is primarily concerned with two questions, she says: What do we believe it means to be human? And what do we believe is true about God? On God Help Us, Annie and her guests wrestle with how both of those questions inform our relationship to each other and our response to events in the world around us.

Annie: 鈥�God Help Us is about information, it鈥檚 about what are our commonly held beliefs in this country, how are they informed by our Christian heritage? […] I鈥檓 hoping, on a more meta level, that it鈥檚 also a way of modeling those conversations, so we can feel defensive and have all the human range of emotions while we鈥檙e disagreeing with each other and still continue to talk to each other.”

Much of Annie鈥檚 work can be connected to the category of spiritual darkness, which was the focus of her Integrative Project at 天美视频, 鈥淢aking a Home in the Dark.鈥� In our 2018 Integrative Project Symposium, Annie offered this insight into what draws her to working with spiritual darkness: 鈥淚 think that in those times when everything has been stripped away, we also lose hold of the lies we have believed about ourselves, about each other, and about God. So I鈥檓 left only with my desire and the question of what to do with it, and the question of what to do with this new reality. And I find that the only option really is to come home to myself. And in those places, I find that God is waiting for me there.鈥�

Annie: 鈥淲hen we recognize that we have put our faith in something like patriarchy, it doesn鈥檛 let us go easily. These periods of darkness, of feeling completely lost and at our wits鈥� end, both communally and individually鈥攊t forces us to give up hope in what we鈥檝e put our hope in. And that is this great gift that we can then decide we鈥檙e going to do something different now.鈥�

In an era of fragmented relationships鈥攁nd, therefore, fragmented politics鈥攚e are deeply grateful for the insightful, far-reaching conversations Annie is hosting. Here鈥檚 to listening deeply, speaking boldly, and returning again and again to our connections with each other.

Resources to Go Deeper

• You can learn more about Annie鈥檚 work, including God Help Us, at . And if you have ideas for future topics or guests on the podcast, email godhelp.podcast@gmail.com.
• As this conversation turned to purity culture, it brought to mind an article by Lauren Sawyer (MA in Theology & Culture, (鈥�14). Shauna asked Lauren to record an excerpt for this episode, and here鈥檚 the full article from Feminist Studies in Religion:
• To be fair, Annie鈥檚 reference to is more tangential than thematic. But it really is a great film!
• Shauna references an episode from NPR鈥檚 Invisibilia podcast about the relationship between uncertainty and dogmatism, and what we do when we don鈥檛 know what to do.
• Annie mentions being inspired by this article from Tyrone Beason at the Seattle Times:
• Just in time for summer, we got a bunch of book recommendations from Annie. Happy reading!
  • by Dr. Tina Schermer Sellers
  • by Frank Schaeffer
  • and by Amber Cantorna
  • by Mary Daly
  • by Miguel A. de la Torre

The post Politics, Theology, and Spiritual Darkness with Annie Mesaros appeared first on 天美视频 of Theology & Psychology.

Find out more about our Master of Divinity program.

Could you give us an overview of what you do?

My title is Director of Organizational Development for The Allender Center at 天美视频鈥攚hich, honestly, is really functioning like an Executive Pastor. I get to do leadership development for our staff at The Allender Center, creating consistent structures of communication, professional development, care, support. I鈥檓 also on faculty with The Allender Center, so I teach and work on the blog and podcast, as well as facilitating groups.

It鈥檚 interesting that all of those things鈥攆rom the relational to the technical to the administrative鈥攐ften fall under the role of pastor, too. Which raises another question: What does it mean to be a pastor?

I often joke that being a good pastor is just like being a good parent, but specifically in the realms of spiritual formation and identity development. When I think about a pastor, I think about someone who tells stories that help people locate themselves in a larger story. Both individually鈥斺�淲ho is God, and who are you?鈥� and collectively鈥斺�淲here have we come from, where are we now, where are we going?鈥� I think it鈥檚 about providing good care.

I often say that, vocationally and in my calling, I鈥檓 a pastor by orientation. I find that whether I鈥檓 working in a tea shop and serving people crepes and loose leaf tea, or working on an admissions team recruiting students to a graduate program.

I鈥檓 guessing the tea shop鈥檚 not hypothetical.

No, I worked at a loose leaf tea shop the year after I graduated from 天美视频.

Was there a period of finding it hard to identify as a pastor, since you weren鈥檛 in the traditional paid staff position at a church?

Two moments come to mind. First, I did not come to graduate school to become a pastor, even though I came to pursue an MDiv. I came from a tradition where women couldn鈥檛 be pastors, so I didn鈥檛 have much imagination for myself as a pastor. I came to 天美视频 because I thought I would be a professor. I knew I would do ministry, but I would maybe just do ministry through the academy. Then during my third year, Paul Steinke named me as a pastor. There was something about someone actually naming me pastor, inviting me to see that as part of my identity, that was really powerful.

And then, during our formational years at The Allender Center, there were some moments where we were in the midst of a lot of spiritual warfare and a lot of despair. I remember Dan was introducing me before the large group to teach, and he said, 鈥淩achael really is the pastor of The Allender Center.鈥� And as he said that, there was something that felt really true to me about that. It鈥檚 not a way I would necessarily have seen myself, but it was a way I was bringing myself in the midst of our team, calling us to remember who we are and who we鈥檙e called to be. So I felt like the unofficial pastor of The Allender Center, and then there鈥檚 the question of, what does it mean to be the pastor of a nonprofit? Is that sacrilegious?

It seems like there are layers: Something was going on inside you regarding your own identity and calling, but something else happens when others see that and name it. Why do you think that outward affirmation is so meaningful?

I think there鈥檚 something about anointing that is really important. We see that throughout the text, right? It鈥檚 something we鈥檙e meant for and made for: to have others bless aspects of our calling and identity and vocation. I think it鈥檚 why something like an ordination process holds so much meaning in the Church. There鈥檚 a way of anointing, honoring, and consecrating鈥攕etting apart a role. Though I think, at times in our culture, that setting apart means the role is elevated in a way that some people who have the esteem of pastor really abuse that power, and it creates this false dichotomy that people who are pastors or leaders in a ministry are actually doing ministry, not everyone else. That鈥檚 a really weak, thin theology, a really weak, thin missiology, a really weak, thin sense of what the Church actually is and how it functions.

This process of recognizing your pastoral gifting and embracing that and naming it true鈥攈ow has that journey clarified or refined how you understand calling?

I don鈥檛 see calling as being just connected to vocation. It鈥檚 far more expansive than that. It鈥檚 that sense of knowing that, no matter what I鈥檓 doing, it鈥檚 okay to bring these parts of myself.

And there is some mythology that calling is static, when I actually think it鈥檚 something that develops and grows and shifts. I think it does stay pretty consistent in its rootedness, but the fruit it bears can change in different seasons. So we always need to be growing and learning and have a posture of curiosity and a willingness to surrender to formational processes.

鈥淚 don鈥檛 see calling as being just connected to vocation. It鈥檚 far more expansive than that.鈥�

What would you say to somebody else who is recognizing aspects of their calling as a pastor, but also recognizing that it might come out in an unconventional context?

The more we know who we are, then we can make better decisions about where we want to give those parts of ourselves. Calling, again, is about more than vocation. Calling is about union, calling is about love鈥攊t鈥檚 always about love. So what are the really unique ways that you are equipped and gifted to love people and communities well? For some people, that will look like very traditional roles that have really clear boundaries, really clear definitions, and there鈥檚 nothing wrong with that. For others, it might mean you meander a bit, because there are certain skills you need to develop that go along with that calling. Some people might look at it and go, 鈥淥h, this is a real deviation from your calling,鈥� and I would say, 鈥淣o, I actually think it was preparing me to be more fully equipped for my calling.鈥�

So I would tell people, especially those who will find themselves in more unconventional spaces, we need healers and pastors and artists and therapists working in lots of different contexts. And it may not always look like the textbook. That doesn鈥檛 mean you鈥檙e not being faithful to live out your calling well.

Part of what we鈥檙e exploring is inspired by Barbara Brown Taylor鈥檚 language of your 鈥渁ltar in the world,鈥� and the idea that our work in the world is a form of worship. Do you want to say anything about that?

Oh, I really like that. I was just reading , and I love Paul鈥檚 language of living faithfully to what you鈥檝e been gifted鈥攁nd that鈥檚 going to look different for each person in different seasons, based on different giftings鈥攋ust be faithful to bring those gifts to the world in such a way that it is like a living sacrifice. I think we鈥檙e really scared of that word, sacrifice. And rightfully so鈥攖here鈥檚 been some theological and spiritual abuse that has used a word like sacrifice to maintain oppressive structures of power that are actually anti-Gospel. However, when we give of ourselves in a way that actually leads unto life, I think that鈥檚 that living sacrifice that Paul calls us to.

Learn more about our Master of Divinity program and how you can pursue your unique calling.

The post Unconventional Pastor: An Interview with Rachael Clinton appeared first on 天美视频 of Theology & Psychology.

I breathed myself to life, and so can you. My own recovery from the trauma of sexual repression drew me towards the healing medicine of yoga. I am a psychotherapist and a yoga teacher. My passion, obsession, and saving grace is embodiment鈥攖he experience of inhabiting the home of your body. Social forces and generational/personal trauma split the psyche into compartmentalization and dissociation, which inhibit us from fully inhabiting our own skin. I came into this work by following the golden thread of aliveness that vibrated inside of me whenever I stepped towards an act of embodiment.

My journey towards my profession and passion began by confronting my own pain of living in a deadened body.

鈥淢y journey towards my profession and passion began by confronting my own pain of living in a deadened body.鈥�

As a girl I was steeped in an evangelical church that was emotionally and sexually repressed. I was taught to dissociate from my emotion and sexuality. Eager to perform for my community, I was one of the 鈥榞ood鈥� ones. My dissociative abilities grew stronger as they were reinforced and praised. I swallowed my emotions and wore my pledge of virginity until marriage like a badge of honor. I committed to these ideas with resolve, to the point of receiving a purity tattoo鈥攁 dove on my hip that I wouldn鈥檛 allow anyone to see until my wedding night.

As a child I was tirelessly praised for my goodness, my ability to follow all of the rules set before me. The only price I had to pay for this endless stream of praise was my unwavering compliance with the group norms of emotional and sexual repression. As long as I agreed that the impulses of my body were wrong and should be ignored at all costs, I was given power, respect, and trust from a group of people I deeply respected.

As a 3 on the Enneagram, 鈥渢he performer,鈥� my disposition lends me towards being preoccupied with how others see me. 鈥楪ood鈥� became my identity, and my value was centered around how well I could perform to the expectations of those in authority around me. My obsession with blamelessness made me feel afraid to consider my own right to connection and desire.

It is painful to realize I was brainwashed out of connecting to my own sensuality. Over and over again I kissed my college boyfriend (who is now my incredible, gracious husband) while willing myself outside of my body and interrupting our connection if we got 鈥榯oo close.鈥� For years. For five years. That is too many years of not surrendering to the wisdom of our bodies. Our super power, being deeply present with each other, was shadowed by shame and secrecy. By the time we decided we had waited long enough to have sex, I had retreated so far from the felt experience of my body that I didn鈥檛 know how to enjoy it.

Dissociation is the psychological process of blocking out what an individual considers to be harmful. What is defined as 鈥榟armful鈥� within an individual is often the parts of self that may inhibit a sense of belonging to a particular community. I was taught that my body was bad and not to be trusted, so I spent the vast majority of my life ignoring what it was saying to me out of an ethical duty to be 鈥榞ood.鈥� I鈥檓 not the only one. The bodies of countless people growing up within Evangelical communities have been affected by the shameful rhetoric of purity culture.

The trauma of neglecting and shaming my body during vital years of sexual development caused a severe split between my mind and my body. We don鈥檛 learn how to be in our bodies unless we are taught how to follow sensation. In order to keep my purity pledge, I did everything in my power to sever myself from sensation, and in the process inadvertently sent the message to my brain that connection to my body was not to be trusted. My evil body tempted me into sexual sin鈥攁n age-old fable more concerned with power than with sex.

Yoga was the first place I learned how to inhabit my body intimately, in a way that wasn鈥檛 overtly sexual. Yoga was a neutral environment I could enter to learn how to de-thaw my body, without having to hold the emotional complexity of sexual shame that would often come up during sex. It has been through my own yoga practice that I鈥檝e learned that there is ancient medicine in using breath and movement in order to bring bodies back to life. What has historically been my biggest weakness is turning into my biggest strength because my pain forced me to look so closely at my body.

鈥淭here is ancient medicine in using breath and movement in order to bring bodies back to life.鈥�

While I was still dry humping Ben in church parking lots (#wheatonlyfe) in 2006, I attended a 鈥榮tretching and breathing鈥� class (yoga, in disguise) that changed my life. My body, which I had spent so much time trying to separate from and control, was now being gently paid attention to. I learned how to use movement as prayer, and for the first time I began to see how being with my body was a worshipful experience. It made my heart burst wide open to pay attention to myself in this way. Each time I laid in savasana, the final resting pose at the end of a yoga class, I came into direct contact with the weirdness and goodness of my body, the pure delight of feeling my own aliveness. These magical experiences in my body drew me to enroll in a yoga teacher training the summer before I started class at 天美视频. Immersed in the world of body wisdom I began, piece by piece, to land into a body I wasn鈥檛 fully aware I had disowned.

After I graduated, I spent four years working at , a local eating disorder clinic that was my therapeutic boot camp. Working with clients with eating disorders is a minefield of body hatred and dissociation, and I needed to learn quickly how to help my clients tolerate being in bodies that felt deeply unsafe to inhabit. I voraciously read books on embodiment and somatic healing from trauma, and I realized as I read that I needed to heal myself. The deeper I dove into healing my relationship with my body, the more I could teach my students how to find islands of safety within their own skin.

Dissociation is a form of trauma that leaves the body frozen, numb, and unresponsive. When trauma and neglect happen, we need to vacate. It is a sweet gift that the body doesn鈥檛 allow us to come into full contact with the enormity of our pain when we aren鈥檛 safe enough to feel it. I see the body as a manifestation of the unconscious mind, and when we work explicitly with the physical body, we grow awareness to the most hidden parts of our psyche. Yoga is a way to slowly reintroduce ourselves to the disowned parts of ourselves. Using the tools of breath and focused awareness, we can gradually thaw the frozen, clenched parts of our bodies. Now in my private practice, I鈥檓 teaching my clients and yoga students how to reclaim the uncharted waters of their own bodies using meditation, yoga, and breathing practices.

It wasn鈥檛 until I began connecting to my body that I realized how deeply disconnected I had been my entire life. Even now, after spending the last decade working to integrate the experiences of my body, I鈥檓 more aware than ever about how much I still don鈥檛 know about this earth suit of mine. It is endlessly mysterious and mystical to discover the maps of intelligence that are encoded into our bodies. I鈥檒l never arrive at a perfectly embodied or integrated place, but I have breathed myself into a new body. A more fluid, open, welcoming, and grounded body. A body that knows how to lean into care because of all those times she leaned into the earth in savasana and felt held.

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We鈥檙e thrilled to be returning to the recently renovated Town Hall Seattle for this year鈥檚 ceremony鈥攁 fittingly beautiful space for such a meaningful event. Commencement is a foundational part of 天美视频鈥檚 annual rhythm, full of ritual, symbolism, beauty, and depth to help mark the transformational work to which these students have committed themselves鈥攁nd to welcome them into 天美视频鈥檚 thriving network of more than 1,100 alumni around the world who are pursuing innovative, life-changing work as therapists, pastors, leaders, and artists.

Each year, faculty and graduates select three student speakers鈥攐ne from each degree program鈥攁nd one student to offer a special vocal selection. This year鈥檚 student speakers will be Stephanie Johnson (MDiv), Cameron Carter (MATC), and Sarah Steinke (MACP), with a vocal selection from Jana Detrick (MACP). Dr. Angela Parker, Assistant Professor of Biblical Studies, will deliver the official Charge to Graduating Students.

The ceremony will also include time to honor Dr. Steve Call, Associate Professor of Counseling Psychology, and Dr. Angela Parker as they conclude their final academic year as core faculty at 天美视频. as Assistant Professor of New Testament and Greek in the McAfee School of Theology at Mercer University in Atlanta, GA, and Dr. Call will be devoting more time to his family, private practice, and growing farm near Bellingham, WA.

鈥淐ommencement is a sacred space,鈥� says Dr. J. Derek McNeil, Acting President and Provost. 鈥淚t is a moment to give thanks to the grace of God for the journey and to affirm a renewed call to life鈥檚 adventure and service.鈥�

This is sure to be a holy, memorable occasion鈥攆ull of the solemnity of any significant ending, the relief of completing an epic journey, and the hope-filled determination of knowing that our graduates鈥� stories of learning and transformation will not end in the classroom, but will draw them deeper and deeper into the movement of healing in the communities around them. As we near the end of our 21st year, we are more grateful than ever for the world-changing work of our alumni, and we hope you will join us as we welcome our 2019 graduates into that community. More details are on our event calendar, and we鈥檒l be streaming the whole ceremony live for those who can鈥檛 make it in person. All are welcome!

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鈥揗iroslav Volf

We believe that we are created in the image of God. This is a radical idea that, for many, may have been dulled by familiarity over the years. That belief may have also lost some of its spark when, particularly in western Christianity, it came to be applied almost exclusively to the individual. But what if it is not only our individual identities that reflect God鈥檚 image? What if that image is more fully reflected in the ways that our individual stories, bodies, and callings intersect with and impact each other? What if, like our personal stories of transformation, the particularity of our work with others reveals something deep and beautiful about who God is?

So much of our mission at 天美视频 leads us to that idea. In recent months on the blog, we鈥檝e been wrestling with how transformation draws us deeper into the call to serve God and neighbor, and how living out that call in a sustainable way requires that we never stop nurturing the process of formation. This month, we鈥檙e going to be exploring how integrating those two processes鈥攑ersonal formation and outward service鈥攊s an act of worship, one that reveals the image of God in profound and surprising ways.

How does your calling reflect something of who God is? How might your service draw you deeper into worship? As , what is your altar in the world?

These are big questions, and they are intimately connected to story. That means that, when we let our transformation inform our calling as an act of worship, our work in the world might look as unique as our own story. Service looks different for everyone, which means that your calling might be a bit unconventional鈥攁nd this is a good thing.

Here鈥檚 to unconventional callings, continued transformation, and service as worship. And here鈥檚 to the image of God that is continually being revealed in and between and through each of us as we serve God and neighbor.

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鈥溾�nd by his wounds we are healed.鈥� (Isaiah 53:5)

Earlier this spring, my family and I came across a(n) (un)welcome surprise: We had joined forces with a tree that hid our home from others, but also from ourselves. What鈥檚 more, like this hiding tree, we realized we had each been hiding from each other, and also from the world around us. And it was by the wounds of this (tree) friend that we were healed. Let me explain.

My wife had been suggesting that we cut the tree down for any number of years, but I hadn鈥檛 been open to the idea. She knew she鈥檇 need to keep peppering me with this suggestion, until one day I would bend. I did, and welcome to our relationship.

It turns out the real estate agent who sold us our house back in 2009 had made a similar suggestion fairly immediately upon seeing our house for the first time. You see, our house was depressed when we bought it. It had held the energies of what sounded like a pretty brutal divorce, and it came onto the market mid-depressive episode. It would take lots of cans of paint, new carpet, and a series of house blessings from a team of pastors to clear the air in our home. Those dark, depressive energies seemed to be fairly deeply rooted, not unlike our hiding tree.

Our hiding tree was a Japanese maple, and alongside of the tree that stood beside it, this tree had kept our house from being fully seen from top to bottom. We live in a split-level home, which is fairly boxy, and this hiding tree contributed to the apparent plainness of our home鈥檚 curb appeal. So these suggestions to take down the tree had everything to do with aesthetics: Our house would be more visible and would appear less overgrown if we allowed it to be better seen. The beauty of this hiding tree had become a source of its contribution to the concealment of (or in) our home.

My wife and I are both therapists, and when we got together, we had a lot of learning to do in terms of the art and skill of vulnerable living. I came to our relationship loaded with theories that could cover insecurities, vulnerabilities, and frailties. My ability to theorize is actually a thing of beauty and something that contributes to my calling(s) in life, both as teacher and as a healer, but my ability to theorize is also a beauty I鈥檝e hidden behind, often concealing the life that twists and turns within me.

鈥淢y ability to theorize is also a beauty I鈥檝e hidden behind, often concealing the life that twists and turns within me.鈥�

But back to the felling of this tree: It was a Sunday morning, and our family had chosen to stay home and get some housework done, rather than going to church. What we didn鈥檛 know was that 鈥渃hurch鈥� would be coming to us that morning. I started to cut some of the smaller branches of the tree: the ones that were fairly high up but also within reach from the ground. The cut limbs began to weep. The water that had coursed through their veins now poured out onto the ground with surprising haste. I began to feel the pain I imagined this tree was experiencing, as I cut and as it was cut. My own body started to ache as I pressed on in my work, soon realizing that this tree and me were in a deeply spiritual contact with one another.

Soon I called my wife and our three boys over to the area where the tree had once stood, and I spoke with resonance to the life and pending death of this tree, and to how it had clearly served as a vestige of pain and hiding: a legacy of the house that was our house before it became our home. Maybe the irony of this service was that, by all appearances, the tree in and of itself was beautiful.

Ever since, I鈥檝e been working with this experience turned memory. That spring Sunday in March our family, to a person, each spoke to the ways we felt freer as a result of the ritual we spontaneously created as we brought the hiding tree down. We each confessed to each other, and to the more-than-human world around us, how we had joined with the tree in our respective hidings: We were each able to articulate ways we used 鈥渢hings,鈥� maybe even things that looked good (e.g. for me, a busy schedule), to keep us from more stark exposure to each other, and to the world that awaits and calls us by name.

Typing these words I鈥檓 quickly reminded of what I learned when I came to 天美视频 (then Mars Hill Graduate School) as a Master of Divinity student in 2002: I had used the beauty of a strong intellect (remember that theorizing my wife referenced?) and my intensity as an 鈥�8鈥� on the Enneagram (too much is just about enough for me) to become quite technically proficient at practicing and teaching the life and work of a therapist, all the while hiding myself from myself and also from the world around me.

I鈥檓 currently listening to a book on tape entitled , by psychotherapist Lori Gottlieb. The book follows multiple therapy patients, including the life that Gottlieb has lived as a patient herself. In talking about what separates more senior clinicians from those that are proverbially greener, Gottlieb notes that one has to be willing to be the same person, the same 鈥渟elf,鈥� both inside and outside of the therapy office, in order to set oneself apart as more senior or advanced in the work. In other words, if I put on the garb of therapist and I use such a costume to distance myself and my clients from my own human experiences and vulnerabilities, then the work of therapy (and probably best said the therapeutic relationship) will not progress in the same way it would if I felt freer to be me across time, space, and frame.

In my listening, as I move back and forth between my use of the word 鈥渃lient鈥� and Gottlieb鈥檚 use of the word 鈥減atient,鈥� I am reminded that the Latin root of the latter is the word patiens, which means 鈥渢o suffer.鈥� So a therapist treats 鈥渙ne who suffers.鈥� But a therapist being true to all of who they are means that they are patiens, ones who suffer, as well. The version of me that came to seminary was acquainted with grief and suffering, but of the ilk of serving others who were supposedly experiencing it differently (more profoundly) than I. It was only in being cracked open by my practicum (Listening Lab), personal counseling, and other extra-curricular experiences that I came to believe that being a co-traveler (ala Irvin Yalom) would be the only path to shared healing.

In April, Meg Wheatley, renowned organizational psychologist and author of , came to campus and put a call out for 鈥渉uman human beings鈥� who could serve as 鈥渋slands of sanity鈥� for each other in an age that calls for 鈥渨arriors of the human spirit.鈥� Meg spoke to how the ever-present need for belonging can twist and turn its way into lots of unhealthy human behaviors and interactions.

One way such a downgrading happens is when a person decides to take on a role as a way of limiting their exposure to the interconnectedness of all things. Gregory Bateson, a systems-thinker and major player in the establishment of the field of cybernetics, called roles a 鈥渉alf-assed relationship,鈥� in that surrendering one鈥檚 interconnectedness to the discreteness of a role allows and results in half-assed living for the role-bearer. This is often the way of it for many who find themselves in helping roles, healing capacities, and/or positions of spiritual authority: Their roles become their identities, their identities become half-assed, and they function as other/less than human humans (a nod to social identity theory).

If this month鈥檚 blog posts are about nurturing and formation, it wouldn鈥檛 take a far reach to claim that positions of leadership (including the pastorate, helping, and healing professions) often stifle those very things (nurturance and formation) in the people who serve in such posts. Rather than being permitted the messiness of having needs and of fraying at the edges like formation so often requires, such leaders are invited to be anything but human as they are charged to constrict and/or to restrict themselves to that which appears shiny and clean.

鈥淟eaders are invited to be anything but human as they are charged to constrict and/or to restrict themselves to that which appears shiny and clean.鈥�

Like our family鈥檚 home, helpers and healers are often subtly charged to hide behind beautiful things. It鈥檚 a beautiful thing to be called into ministry. It鈥檚 a beautiful thing to be in a position to see and to name on behalf of another. It鈥檚 a beautiful thing to walk the road of healer, having tasted some of the trials and tribulations that have brought people to one鈥檚 door asking, seeking, and knocking (Matthew 7:7). Our society desperately needs healing professionals and spiritual leaders willing to heed the call of caring for others. In a land rife with derision, we need to become 鈥渋slands of sanity鈥� for each other (thanks again, Meg Wheatley!).

That said, one can hide out on an island, just like one can hide out behind a beautiful Japanese maple. For me, the call to hide long preceded me. I come from a long line of men who hide behind positions of power and influence, or behind an absence of words or authentic encounter with another. A mix of Methodist good works (appearances) and Presbyterian rigidities (male privileging) coupled with war-time trauma, sickness, and a modern-era milieu populated with a toxic male code (see David & Brannon, 1976) contribute(d) to my ongoing tendency to use beauty (my intellect, my speed of processing, my use of words, and other performance-related variables) to hide.

But it is by the wounds of the suffering servant that we are healed (Isaiah 53:5). The felling of our hiding tree offered us a taste of that very reality. Our family was able to trade one beauty (hiding) for another (warmth and connection), in the form of a repurposed engagement with our hiding tree. Branches are now neatly stacked and ready to be used for summer backyard bonfires, and a seedling that had started to randomly grow on its own has since been replanted in our front yard, showing good signs of vim and vigor but also standing at least 10 yards from our house.

Beauty requires deliberation (see the work of Elaine Scarry), and beauty renders us impotent (and also the work of Hans Urs von Balthasar). Beauty calls, and the recipient responds. Beauty can and will draw us face-to-face with our need to receive, and with our need for divine encounter. But beautiful things can also be used to limit, if not conceal, other forms of goodness longing to be exposed to the light. Rooms on both levels of our home now beam with light in ways they never had before, and that light calls each person in our family to do and be the same.

So maybe an invitation for any of us who serve in helping or healing capacities, or who are called into one or more positions of spiritual authority: Where do you allow what was planted before you to keep root in a form that hides the fullness of who you are? Where do we take what we鈥檝e been given, bidden and unbidden, replete with beauty but also defense, and repurpose such into opportunities for warmth and connection?

Chances are it was our wounds that got us into our work, whatever it may be, in the first place. Wounds heal not only on or in bodies, but also in souls as well. Roles protect humans from the inevitable wounding of their humanity, and beautiful things can be used to hide deeper goodness. Islands can isolate, or islands can protect. And always we begin again.

Feeling called or compelled to emerge in some way? If so, please don鈥檛 be bashful in sharing with others: Our own nurturance, formation, and sanity awaits.

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If you鈥檝e ever worked in ministry or a helping profession鈥攐r any work that requires your full self鈥攜ou know this matters: the rate of burnout is too high, and the cost too steep, to not take seriously the need for resilience. We launched Resilient Leaders Project to help leaders and communities respond to that deep need in the midst of a changing church and fragmented culture.

Kate: 鈥淩esilient Leaders Project is about trying to come alongside leaders in their context to help them construct lives that support their good work, instead of feeling like their lives are at the cost of their work.鈥�

In reflecting on what drew them into this work, Kate and Laura Wade share about their histories with the Church and how they came to believe it could be a space that would welcome them fully and unequivocally, in all of their brokenness and trauma. Because it turns out that it鈥檚 impossible to talk meaningfully about resilience without also talking about trauma.

Kate: 鈥淭here鈥檚 a depth of experience that you must learn to narrate in your own life if you鈥檙e going to integrate the really hard pieces of your life. It鈥檚 not simply bouncing back to the shape that you were before something hard happened, it鈥檚 saying 鈥楬ow did this really difficult situation, this suffering that I went through, actually form me to be in some way more human, more compassionate, and therefore more divine?鈥欌��

鈥淭here鈥檚 a depth of experience that you must learn to narrate in your own life if you鈥檙e going to integrate the really hard pieces of your life.鈥�

Laura Wade: 鈥淩esilience, to me, is finding healing and freedom and voice in the midst of those harmful places, and being able to meet the Spirit and meet God there to be different, to be more of who we are created to be. That鈥檚 the linking of resilience and trauma. I don鈥檛 think you can have resilience without some level of trauma.鈥�

Shauna: 鈥淎nd maybe you can鈥檛 be a human and not have trauma.鈥�

As we gather to reflect together on the trauma of Christ鈥攖he violence, betrayal, death, and resurrection鈥攊n the Church we might also find space to reflect on our own trauma, to lean into a community of others who can help us find language and meaning for that which is beyond words. This is a beautiful hope, that reflecting on the wounds of Christ in community might help us heal from our own wounds, but it is also a risky, vulnerable hope鈥攐ne from which it is all too easy for many leaders to shy away. The rigorous demands and unspoken expectations of leadership often mean that leaders鈥攅specially in church, ministry, and nonprofit settings鈥攁re left feeling as if they cannot disclose experiences of trauma or uncertainty, and like there is not room for them to receive care.

Kate: 鈥淲ounded healer is language that we usually use, but we gloss over the wounded part, which means that we often have healed wounders in those roles.鈥�

鈥淲ounded healer is language that we usually use, but we gloss over the wounded part, which means that we often have healed wounders in those roles.鈥�

Toward the end of the conversation, Kate and Laura Wade share about their experience in the first full year of RLP, inviting leaders into intentional connection, thoughtful reflection, and new practices that create room for their full selves鈥攊ncluding their trauma, doubt, and brokenness鈥攖o be present in their work and relationship. This integrative work is a central part of building resilience, and it is a gift to journey with leaders as they step into that.

Kate: 鈥淢y hope for the Church is that God鈥檚 not done. And it might not look like the church that it looked like in our parents鈥� or grandparents鈥� ages, it might not be focused on Sunday morning worship, but I think God鈥檚 not done in gathering people in a certain type of way. I want to be part of making that happen, and I want to be part of helping resource the creative and courageous people who are stepping into this unknown territory.鈥�

Resources to Go Deeper

• You can learn more about the Resilient Leaders Project鈥攊ncluding our newsletter, upcoming events, and the application process for our next cohort鈥攁t theseattleschool.edu/rlp.
• Kate shares a poem by an anonymous survivor of rape, which reads in its entirety: 鈥淚 can鈥檛 forget what happened, but no one else remembers.鈥� When she was a student at 天美视频, Kate wrote this moving reflection about the installation and about church as a community that remembers and holds.
• Laura Wade recommends a book about integrating the feminine and masculine parts that live in each of us. The book is by Tami Lynn Kent.
• One of the practices Laura Wade mentions that she has returned to because of this work is running. You can read her reflection about how running helps her return to spiritual health in this blog.
• For more on resilience, you can watch Nikkita Oliver鈥檚 stunning talk from our 2018 Humanity Through Community gathering, and you can listen to Nikkita鈥檚 conversation with Shauna Gauthier from an earlier podcast episode.

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That鈥檚 what we鈥檙e diving into on the blog this month: how to open ourselves to the nurture and care that is required to sustain our calling as fully embodied people committed to the movement of hope and healing. It might be worth pausing on that last sentence. What comes to mind when you hear the word nurture? Somewhere along the way, many of us have internalized an assumption that the need to be nurtured is something to be outgrown, something no longer experienced by people who are competent, mature, and capable of effecting change in the world.

We believe, though, that the deep need for nurture is a central part of the human experience, and it is essential to the art of growing in wisdom, empathy, and clarity of calling. As we lead, care for others, and respond to the needs around us, the reservoirs we draw from will run dry if we are not open to receiving care from God, ourselves, and each other鈥攗ltimately leaving us burned out in our work and cynical about the possibility of meaningful change.

We hope you will join us in this conversation as we hear from alumni, students, faculty, and staff about how their particular identities and stories shape their work in the world, and how they receive nurture and care along the way. May we remain curious about whatever resistance might emerge, about those places in us that might feel shame about our need for nurture, and may we continue learning to open ourselves鈥攊ndividually and collectively鈥攖o the care that fuels our formation and sparks creative, courageous work in the world.

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We鈥檙e reminded of the power of place every year when we host 鈥攁 gathering of hundreds of leaders and practitioners from around the world, grounded in the conviction that the nature of our service should be shaped not only by our individual identities and callings, but by the very particular stories of the places we serve. Dr. Dwight Friesen, Associate Professor of Practical Theology, is one of the organizers of Inhabit, and he helps equip 天美视频 students to explore the intersections between their stories, the story of God, and the story of the places they inhabit.

鈥淧art of my work here at 天美视频 is to attend to what it means to be located. We are not just souls, and we鈥檙e not just bodied souls. Our bodies are actually placed somewhere,鈥� says Dr. Friesen. 鈥淚n fact, I would say that one of the greatest teachers God gives us is the place where we are, the ecosystem that gives us life and invites us to attend to what our presence looks like, what our footprint is in the everyday stuff of life.鈥�

鈥淥ne of the greatest teachers God gives us is the place where we are.鈥�

The intersection of those threads鈥攜our story, God鈥檚 story, the story of your place鈥攊s where transformative relationships happen, and it鈥檚 where we are most able to step into the sort of wise, creative, and hospitable service that our world so desperately needs.

鈥淲hen we hide behind doctrine or ideology or even an 鈥榠ssue,鈥� it allows us to become almost adversarial toward those who do not hold the same view. When you stay located in place, however, all of a sudden those issues are not issues. Those issues are actually people, people with names who you are encountering. It takes it out of abstraction and into relationship. That鈥檚 what we try to do here at 天美视频.鈥�

We鈥檒l be diving into this April 26-27 at the Inhabit Conference, two days of inspired teaching, energizing stories, and thought-provoking workshops.

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