The joy

The joy of early morning quiet, surrounded by sleeping sounds

The joy of a fresh, ripe book to savor

The joy of those who require no explanation for who you are

The joy of this pleasant familiar place, surrounded by framed memories which bless again

The joy of meats and pies and salads waiting in there

The joy of touching the garment’s hem as mystery passes by

The joy of a virgin day to roam this wild revolving planet called home

The joy

Now, as you go, know that you are God’s people.

God’s creative Spirit brought you into this world.

God’s power sustains you to this very moment.

So as you go, be who you are in Christ.

Go as salt to flavor the world.

Go as light to shine in the darkness.

Go as grace, to bring healing and hope to a broken and hurting world.

And may the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.

Amen.

My first clinical position was in a high management group home for boys, ages 8-14. This was a long term environment, wherein children would stay up to two years. After the first week, I seriously considered quitting. This was the most difficult job I had experienced so far. Two Living Skills Counselors were placed in a house with up to eight boys, all of whom were labeled with several mental health diagnoses, while being heavily medicated. A strict behavior modification system was in play, wherein each child earned a check or minus every fifteen minutes on their goal sheets. Each day was highly structured with a schedule to be kept. When a child had a melt down, or escalated up into violent or escapist behavior, the time-out room was available. This was a room with thick wooden walls and a heavy door with serious locks. Getting a child there was an ordeal, usually involving physical restraint by both staff persons, carrying the child to the time-out room and locking the door as quickly as possible. Sometimes we had to call for back-up staff members to assist. Yes, the entire time-out-room-experience was as disturbing as one might think…for the children and staff.

After the first few days of long 12-hour shifts, quitting was a real consideration. But then I looked at my options. The work schedule involved long shifts on, with then plenty of time off; ideal for completing that masters degree in counseling while working full time. This children’s home had a psychiatrist on staff and several therapists around. Families too were involved in treatment, making it a great place to engage in Family Systems Therapy. What a great learning environment for an aspiring therapist. Besides all that, I needed a job and this was my only option at the time. So, I decided to sink or swim. Staying on this job required that kind of commitment.

About six months in, the unthinkable happened. The time-out room door broke. Well, it didn’t mysteriously break on it’s own. It was blasted off its hinges by a large out of control boy. This in itself was not unthinkable, happening on a regular basis (the entire time was there I couldn’t believe these small human beings could generate that kind of destructive power). What was different this time was that the maintenance guy was not available. Mr. Brown worked at the children’s home on weekends to supplement his military pay, and he was out on a three week field exercise with his other job. So, no time out room was available.

What? I couldn’t believe it when the director informed us of this crisis in staff meeting before my shift began. What in the world were we expected to do when the kids were out of control, or one tried running away, or several began to fight, or one picked up something with which to attack one of us staff people?

“Use your skills.” That was the director’s answer. That’s it. “Use your skills.” Instant dread.

So, we informed the kids, who already knew. The last boy who occupied the time-out room quickly informed the others about his success in disabling it. He enjoyed his hero status.

That day, the day the time-out room broke, led into a remarkable three weeks which became high management children’s home lore passed down among staff members to this day. There we were, in a high management children’s home, with the highest management tool unavailable to us (Actually, we could call the police, an even higher management activity, but we didn’t want to wear them out too much). The kids knew the time-out room was broken, the staff knew it was unavailable, and we all knew it was what we used when kids were too far out of control. Now what?

Strangely, that first day, we didn’t need the broken time out room. It was like we all developed an unspoken understanding…”the time-out room is not available, so getting violent or running away or threatening people are not really options for a while…at least not until the time-out room door is fixed. Mr. Brown (maintenance guy) is out of town and the rest of us don’t have time to shop for parts and fix the thing.”

Yes, kids still escalated, moving toward what previously would result in a physical restraint plus a time-out room stay. But something different happened. We staff people adjusted our approaches. We found different ways to relate. We discovered new or dormant intervention skills. Our engagement with the children rose to a new level. We headed-off dilemmas and conflicts way before they resulted in violence. We intervened in more caring and respectful ways. Somehow, our awareness that behavior requiring a time-out room stay could no longer be accommodated, changed things. The children did not escalate to that point so much, dramatically reducing the number of critical incidents. The staff raised their intervention and relational skills to far more effective levels, changing dynamics before hands-on restraints were needed. For that three week period, we didn’t need the time-out room.

So, what do we make of this? What’s this say about group norms? What’s this tell us about how our expectations of what’s acceptable in an environment shape our behavior? Even more, what does this mean about the relational, engagement, and negotiation skills of human beings when they know controlled physical interventions are not options? Is this what happens when parents decide they won’t spank their children…they develop more effective ways of relating which makes spanking obsolete anyway? And what about on a larger scale? What if human beings knew violent interventions were not options? Would we find our interactional styles and skills rising to new levels, making violent problem-solving techniques less needed?

Well, eventually Mr. Brown returned from his field exercises. He went to Home Depot and bought their strongest, thickest door along with an industrial strength lock and hinges. He cut out a small window in the door, installing thick child-proof plexiglas so that one could see in/out. He repaired the framing around the door, attaching the hinges and hanging this new time-out room door. He replaced the log on the door’s front, where staff could write the reason for use and note the time intervals for observation.

After he reported to us (children and staff) the door was operational again, we pretended not to know this the best we could. None of us wanted to return to the way things were. But before the day was out, the time-out room was in play again. When escalating to that level of “out-of-control” could again be accommodated here… then escalation happened.

Evidently, when violence is an option, human beings will exercise that option. Conversely, when violent intervention is not an option, we human beings find all kinds of other, less hurtful ways to engage one another and resolve problems.

May the time-0ut room doors in the world around us break more often.

-For The Common Good

Release them, let them go

Pain, loss, sadness….small griefs collected up over time

Folded together, one ore the other, like ripples in a rumpled bed-sheet

Covering you, cloaking your heart, putting your spirit on mute

Making you distant, removed, beyond reach, a million miles away

Your grief collection

 

Release them, let them go

Nothing will assuage

Nothing will make them better

 

Turn to God

Turn to God who knows grief

Ask for holy fire; hot, burning, purifying fire

Burn away the heaviness, the angst

 

Looking for release

Looking for freedom

Looking for life

Releasing that grief collection

Enjoy the gift that is today
Live in the now
Despair is about past tense
Anxiety is about future tense
Life is about present tense
Live in the now
Enjoy the gift that is today

“Ever totally scrap the sermon you’ve been working on all week?
It just wouldn’t come together…
There was something about it needling your soul; knowing deep down it was more your word than God’s word.
And then, inspiration happens on Saturday morning and you go a completely different direction…relief, synchronicity, gratefulness.
Thanks be to God.”
-The Attentive Preacher’s Journal

“When we are pursuing being disciples of Jesus Christ, we realize we need the church less.”

I hope my mouth didn’t drop open when he made this statement.The lay leadership team of this healthy church was gathered for their annual retreat. They asked me to guide their experience using the Shift Learning Experience. I was describing the move from member identity to disciple identity. This gentleman seemed to be tracking really well; asking insightful questions and vigorously engaging the learning. But when he made this remark, everyone stopped and stared.

“Tell more about what you are thinking.”That’s the best I could respond, given my shock about his statement. He went on to describe the process of becoming a disciple more fully as a very privatized and individual activity. He talked about a system of spiritual disciplines one would engage on a daily basis (yes, that’s one aspect of it) and how one would go deeper in one’s faith journey.

Afterwards, it was clear to me that this gentleman represents many Christ-followers. Many see the process of being formed more fully as disciples as a very personal, private, and individualistic activity. This is something one does behind closed doors, in one’s private prayer closet, so to speak. Given this view, one needs the programs and services of the church less and less.

Two insights rise to the surface after reflecting on this experience.

First, I’m reminded that the culture of our context (USA) significantly influences our faith. Here in America we value individuality. Here we believe individuals can pull themselves up by their boot straps. Here we promote John Wayne types as heroes. Would John Wayne ever need a community, a team, to accomplish his mission? No, he goes it alone. “Hyper-Individualism” is not too strong a phrase to describe our cultural context, which then influences our faith.

Second, I’m afraid we church leaders have taught, or at least insinuated, that following Jesus is a very individualistic activity. Protestant evangelical churches have (and some still do) emphasized a VERY personal relationship with Jesus. When we stay with this thought, the VERY part becomes formative. Since we understand the heart of our faith to be about a VERY personal relationship with Jesus, then gathering with other disciples for mutual support, growth, and sharing becomes less important. The gentleman in the retreat simply verbalized succinctly what many Christ-followers believe. Just me and Jesus will do fine.

The irony in this is striking. When we actually try living as disciples of Jesus Christ, we find that we need the church (invigorated community gathered around the Risen Christ) so much more than before. As I seek to LIVE as a disciple, I’m completely sure that I cannot live that way by myself. I’ve tried it, and failed. Sure I can maintain systematic devotional life on my own. But implementation – actually living the gospel – that’s another story. Loving people when I have a schedule to keep, giving away things rather than getting more things, forgiving people who really hurt me…I have to have a community of disciples with whom to ride that river. I can’t sustain it on my own. The challenge is too significant.

It turns out that just me and Jesus won’t do. Instead Jesus provided for us a community of faith with whom to share the journey. Thanks be to God.

In each of us, it’s Lent somewhere

Where we resonate with Jesus on the way to the cross

Where we are forsaken and alone

Where the brokenness can’t hide

Where despair lurks

Where we are stripped down to nothing

In each of us, it’s Lent somewhere

Sometimes the spiritual direction we receive is not what we prefer.
Sometimes God’s calling strips our energy reserves and cuts us to the bone.
Sometimes the only way to move ahead is the prayer of surrender.
Sometimes life is more like Lent, than Easter.