Canoeing the Mountains

Canoeing the Mountains

“Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.”—John 12:24.

The Alban Weekly from Duke Divinity School interviewed Tod Bolsinger, professor at Fuller Theological Seminary, about the meaning of his recent book, Canoeing the Mountains: Christian Leadership in Uncharted Territory (IVP Books, 2018).

Bolsinger provides a surprising metaphor for so many of our transition experiences in life. He tells the story of the journey of the explorers Lewis and Clark, who anticipated they would find a navigable river leading to the Pacific Ocean when they reached the Continental Divide. Instead, they met the Rocky Mountains. 

They didn’t survive by attempting to canoe the mountain. However, the explorers didn’t let this obstacle destroy their objective. They had to adapt, and their key to survival came from a source of wisdom that was not part of their hierarchy or privilege.

I think what Bolsinger is trying to tell our churches can apply to aspects of our lives. We have much to learn from people who know what it is like to reach the top of a mountain with a now useless canoe in hand and still accomplish the insurmountable journey.

Survivors of previous calamities have a sense of a GPS calling them back home. Immigrants, people of color, and women especially have had to adapt to overwhelming situations. Their experiences have much to teach us. More and more, we are called to listen to their stories.

Lewis and Clark encountered the needed wisdom from a teenager, a nursing mother, a Native American kidnapped as a child. “She wasn’t in unfamiliar terrain; she was going home.”  

Bolsinger reminds us that transformation often comes from loss, and those who do not have power may be the true experts in overcoming precarious situations. They may be the best trained in survival and wilderness experiences. Just as Lewis and Clark had to take direction from a young Indian mother, Bolsinger reminds us of the wisdom of giving up power so that something much greater can be birthed. This is also a basic premise in recovery programs. 

The canoe metaphor is an apt one for our individual life transitions. What mountains on our journey have we encountered, equipped with only a “canoe”: a valuable energy at one time in our life, but not the expertise we need now? What does it mean to listen more carefully to survivors—survivors in our own world and the survivor parts of our inner world that can guide us along the next pathway?

This is why we continue attending recovery meetings to hear stories from other survivors. This is why we meet with spiritual directors or share our dreams with others who have traveled paths that are less traveled to us. This is why we learn that the skills we know in our work are not the same ones we will need at home with our children or spouses.

I remember stories I read that were helpful at that time, but were much more meaningful in the future.

Oh my, this story is appropriate for us today during and after the pandemic.

We had to adapt to new survival techniques that we had never used before: wearing a mask, being socially distanced, constant hand washing, and getting vaccinated. These are simple tasks that saved our lives. We must admit that people who are much more intelligent than ourselves know about survival along this path, and some have even been part of other pandemics and know a thing or two.

 I am thinking of our enormous party when we reach our equivalent of the Pacific Ocean. Lewis and Clark only lost one person in their expedition, probably from a ruptured appendix. But we have left behind so many lives as we have traveled through this pandemic. Today, we immensely miss them.   

 “Tod Bolsinger: What Does It Mean to Stop Canoeing the Mountains?” Faith and Leadership, Alban at Duke Divinity School, alban@div.duke.edu, 8/13/2018.

Nouwen: Trees and Roots

Nouwen: Trees, Roots, and Needing Praise

“Trees that grow tall have deep roots. Great height without great depth is dangerous. The great leaders of this world—like St. Francis, Gandhi, and Martin Luther King, Jr.—were all people who could live with public notoriety, influence, and power in a humble way because of their deep spiritual rootedness. Those who are deeply rooted in the love of God can enjoy human praise without being attached to it.”—Henri Nouwen in Bread for the Journey (HarperSanFrancisco, 1997).

Nouwen gives us a remarkable sign of when our connection to God is thin. When we need the praise and adoration of others, we are not “rooted” in God. Living off the recognition of others is living on the surface. Needing the favorable opinion of others is like a “stop sign.”

Stop! We are going in the wrong direction. Turn around. Go and sit or walk outdoors. Recognize that there dwells in nature something greater than ourselves. Remember that a loving God has our welfare so completely in mind that God created all this for us to care for and enjoy.

Talk to a spiritual friend. Do one of the many spiritual exercises we most often practice to reconnect to God. Reexamine your rule of life.

Reach out in love to someone else, especially someone in need. Make eye contact. Look for the light of Christ in that person. Connect the Christ in us to the Christ in the other person. These are ways our souls will extend and enlarge to nurture deeper roots.

Joanna. https://www.joannaseibert.com/

 

                           

 

MLK: The Great Stumbling Block

King: The Great Stumbling Block 

“I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro’s great stumbling block in the stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen’s Counciler or Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate more devoted to ‘order’ than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace of justice; who says, ‘I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I can’t agree with your methods of direct action; who paternalistically feels he can set the timetable for another man’s freedom; who lives by the myth of time and who constantly advises the Negro to wait until a ‘more convenient season.’”—Martin Luther King, Jr., “Letter from Birmingham Jail,” April 16, 1963.

The Atlantic

I repeat part of the message from MLK this morning, for this letter from jail still speaks so profoundly to us in another century. We live in a time of paradox that continually shuttles us between “be patient” and “time to act.” How do we know which to do? Part of MLK’s message is that what is a “more convenient season” for one is not so for another. Most of us do not understand what it is like to walk in the shoes of those who have been oppressed for years, even centuries. Yet, I also know that in my life, if I wait for the “most convenient time,” that time will never be, never happen.

When is the most convenient time to get married, have children, tell the truth, visit the sick, go to church, write, read, go on vacation, or retire? I remember what a friend early in my recovery said at a 12-step meeting many years ago: “I am all right as long as I have all my ducks in a row.” Well, my experience is that those ducks never perfectly line up in a row! There is always some inconvenience that will keep our ducks in disarray and prevent us from doing anything we know is the next right thing we feel called to do.

We try to find “the most convenient time” to pray, meditate, and be silent. But, there is always some reason that something else should be done instead, especially marking off the other things on our to-do list for the day.

We are called to “make time” for these things by deciding on priorities. We know this, but the doing is the hard part.

 So, we want to thank MLK today for putting us in our place, reminding us to listen more carefully to the cries of the oppressed, to the parts of ourselves oppressed—and the details of the needy, just like ourselves, who come for spiritual direction. We are called to listen, listen, and reach out, even at the most inconvenient times.

Joanna https://www.joannaseibert.com/