At least twice in the past thirty years or so, The Christian Century has run a series featuring “big league” theologians responding to the question: how my mind has changed? I have always been fascinated by this series because it’s such a very good question.
I’m no “big league” theologian, to be sure. But I have spent my entire adult life in ordained ministry: campus, parish, diocesan. These contexts have given me a breadth of experience and I hope some depth, too.
I thought it might be helpful/interesting to respond to this question here, in this context. Many of you reading this know me by now. I’ve been doing this work as canon to the ordinary for eleven years how, basically a third my ordained life. It’s left a mark on me. YOU have left a mark on me, clergy and lay leaders, in this diocese of ours.
God made me (or maybe my parents formed me) as an ENTJ. If you don’t speak “Myers Briggs Type Indicator” it’s ok. I’ll explain enough for here. I’m an extrovert, energized by people (“E”) although I’m closer to the middle than most people realize and I think I’m more in touch with my introverted self as I get older, and as the work I do requires a lot of time with people. I take in information through my intuition (“N”) which is very strong – my senses are so underdeveloped I know I’d make a terrible witness in a trial and I often wander through parking lots looking for my car. In that third category, I’m more thinker (“T”) than feeler although again, this one is the closest to the middle.
And then there is that “J” – which refers to liking to reach judgments, conclusions. I’m a man with a plan and always have been. The opposite end is “perceiving” – people that are spontaneous and who keep their options open. I’m married to such a person and I’ve worked with such persons, but I have very little of it in me. I like my ducks in a row. I like checking things off my list. Anyone in our diocese who has chaired a profile or search committee can tell you this, as can the bishop and everyone I’ve ever worked with.
And I don’t tend to apologize for this. As I said, I think it’s how God made me and I think it comes in very handy particularly for a Canon to the Ordinary. (In fact my informal polling of colleagues across The Episcopal Church is that while many bishops are “P”s, most of their C2Os are “J”s. We are the ones paid to ask questions like: what comes next? Who will do what, when? We are paid to help implement dreams and visions and to figure out the next best step toward our goals.
You may think this ENTJ has lost his way and forgotten how this reflection got started and what the purpose of this little writing adventure is. I have not. I embrace being an ENTJ. And it has served me well in many ways.
But as I reflect on the past eleven years of diocesan ministry (and in truth the past 35 of ordained work) I realize that I have had to get more and more in touch with my inner “P” even when that is hard to find. I have had to pay more and more attention to process rather than the end goal. To say this another way, being so “J” casts a kind of shadow if I’m not careful.
I’ve realized and learned over and over again that I am not in charge of transition ministry in this diocese and every single time I think I am, God laughs. The Holy Spirit doesn’t tend to work like a J – and I’ve become more and more aware over time of what a crafty and wise old Bird she is.
So, I cannot change who I am – my core identity. But with God’s help, I’m learning to ask better questions and to be more open, more curious, and dare I say, more patient. Sometimes the right response is to “wait and see” – especially when quick responses are fueled by anxiety. This doesn’t come naturally to me; it’s much easier for me to swoop in and over-function. But that doesn’t leave enough space for God to do what God will do.
How have you been changing? It’s been twenty years since the big family fight we Episcopalians had about whether or not our denomination was big enough to include an openly gay bishop in New Hampshire. In one sense it feels like a long time ago and like no big deal. But my learning from being a parish priest at the time is that even small changes (like changing the type of wine we use for the Eucharist) can bring pushback from the altar guild. So obviously bigger changes have been and will be even harder.
In this past eleven years, I’ve seen vestries come to a consensus to close, or to merge, or to try something new. I’m tired of those old change jokes about light bulbs and Episcopalians, all of which seem to suggest that we don’t, or won’t, or can’t change.
But the truth is that the heart of the gospel of Jesus Christ begins with repentance and repentance is about a change of heart and mind, about turning around, about allowing the Holy Spirit into our lives to lead us into all truth. The flip side of that is to help us to see where we have been wrong – or at least what we are holding on to that no longer works. The emerging church has to be more flexible, more open to change, more adaptable to a changing world. We are learners together in this endeavor.
How have you changed your mind, as clergy and lay leaders, about the work we are called to share in the name of the risen Christ? Is there a way to share these stories with one another to help create a culture that normalizes and celebrates change, rather than sees the default as resistance and entrenchment?
We Episcopalians often love the forty days of Lent but perhaps we have been less intentional about the fifty days of Easter that lead us to Pentecost. Lent is about change, for sure. But so, too, this season upon which we now embark. Think of how Peter was transformed from the man who twitched every time the rooster crowed, to a bold preacher picking up where Jesus left off. Think of Saul, whom God changed from a persecutor to an apostle. What is God up to in your life and how is that leading to new and abundant life for you
