To be courageous is to stay close to the way we are made…The first courageous step may be firmly into complete bewilderment and a fine state of not knowing.
David Whyte, Consolations
Part III (a): The Disruptive Season
Whether through crisis, discontent and frustration, or intentional choice, we have awakened to the realization that something new is possible, even as it may be quite painful. As we see from the imagery, this is when we head into the chrysalis where our real work begins.
Years ago, a friend and colleague shared with me a powerful video called Metamorphosis: The Design and Beauty of the Butterfly. The purpose of the film was to leverage new technology to gain insight into what actually happens inside the chrysalis as the caterpillar becomes the butterfly. It is truly remarkable. When the caterpillar enters, it has two kinds of cells present — imaginal cells and larval cells. Using MRI technology, scientists were able to observe what was happening inside. The needed structures for the butterfly to take form and shape were simply not present in the caterpillar. Instead, they watched a process of death and rebirth. The larval cells were actually consumed by the imaginal cells to create what was required to begin shaping the elements of the adult butterfly.
Some things had to die for the new to emerge. This pattern of birth, death, rebirth has shaped many of the world's religions. Scientists and philosophers alike hold some version of this pattern that underpins their beliefs and methods. Richard Rohr, in his book of the same title, calls it The Wisdom Pattern: Order, Disorder, Re-Order. Adam Grant, in Think Again, describes it as learn, unlearn, relearn. And in the Christian faith it is at the heart and the hope of the resurrection story. We die to one way of life, as Jesus died, and let go of the old that no longer lives in us, and we are reborn in Christ. In this season of Lent, when we are reminded of that truth profoundly. Jesus’ sacrifice for us on the cross and that dark time between Good Friday and resurrection Sunday is exactly the place where this transformational journey requires us to go.
Embracing Vulnerability
Andy Crouch, in his book Strong and Weak, writes that true flourishing only comes when we have both authority — the capacity for meaningful action and vulnerability — exposure to meaningful risk.
Strong and Weak, Andy Crouch, Copyright 2016
His simple framework helps to visualize the implications of living in the tension of authority and vulnerability. The brilliance of his work is in the space he calls “hidden vulnerability” which occurs when we choose suffering for the greater good of the community, even as it may be perceived by a watching world that we have authority. When we embrace suffering, or “kenosis” — descending to the dead, we become more and more like Jesus.
In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus:
Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage;
rather, he made himself nothing
by taking the very nature of a servant,
being made in human likeness.
And being found in appearance as a man,
he humbled himself
by becoming obedient to death—
even death on a cross!Philippians 2:5-9
The descent toward transformation or re-formation requires that we embrace risk and suffering —vulnerability not only for ourselves, but for the benefit of others. You experience suffering so others will not be required to, or so others can benefit from your sacrifice to do so. Andy contends rightly as well, that true flourishing is simply not possible apart from real vulnerability.
The darkness between Friday and Sunday is the liminal space we must be willing to move toward and embrace. At minimum, it is uncomfortable, and more often requires pain and suffering to walk through. But we must walk toward it for hope of new life and possibility.
Into the Darkness
I have walked with many people through this valley of confusion and suffering. I have been there myself more than once, and know first hand the physical, emotional, and spiritual desolation, emptiness and pain. Every instinct of my frail human response is to get out of there as quickly as possible and figure out what to do next. Doing so may short circuit the pain for a bit, but it always come back until you can really walk into it and stay there, even not knowing where it will lead you. I have learned that it is through this pain we must walk to see our way toward what we really want and what is actually possible. But we cannot embark on this journey alone.
In the midst of an extraordinary disruption- a true crisis of vocation, a colleague and I began walking with a friend who was truly in despair in the first few months of his journey and descent. His crisis–a “violent turning point” was fraught with not only vocational disruption, but also relational betrayal and trauma—he was questioning everything he knew even as he felt God calling him toward the darkness . When these crises come, they are never simple and usually impact more than one area of our lives. So it was for my friend. It was a hellish season and staying in close contact with a small group of us was vital to his well being, even as he suffered greatly. In reflecting back after a year had gone by, he wrote these eloquent words describing his early experience of walking toward the darkness:
In time I began to listen to those voices, those voices of solidity urging me into a new reality, urging me to see that I was not, in fact, alone in a forsaken wood but was in an ancient and blessed wilderness. And not alone, but surrounded by the many women, men, and children who had entered this wilderness before: Abraham, Sarah, Moses, Miriam, David, St. Anthony, St. Bernard, Christ Himself. And not only this, but also that this wilderness was actually a chrysalis, a place of transformation where the life that had so terrifyingly dissolved would be transformed into a new life, brilliant and winged. These voices told me that I needed to embrace this uninvited embrace, to give myself to it, and to let it consume me. That in being consumed, I would be made whole.
In this season we often experience a large range of emotions: frustration and anger, despair and discouragement even as we begin to see glimpses of hope emerging. This season is often long, much longer than we might have imagined, as it takes time for the old to pass away and the new to begin to emerge. But we must persevere, and stay with it. Finding a few “voices of solidity” to listen to when we cannot even see our hand in front of us is essential.
We can be made whole, we can become more and more of who God made us to be. But to do so, we must let go, release and “embrace the uninvited embrace.”
There is much to be learned in the disruption season but it requires courage and self reflection .
If this is where you find yourself, in the valley of confusion and suffering, please don’t hesitate to reach out to me or someone you trust to walk with you. You cannot undertake this journey alone, particularly in this early stage. We all need those people who can believe for us and with us, even as we may not be able to believe for ourselves that there is hope.
Up Next: Part III (b) The Disruptive Season- this season is long and complex, so we will be publishing a second part in the coming weeks.
Special thanks to executive editor, RuthAnne Jenkins.
One of my roles is directing an initiative of the Denver Institute for Faith and Work called CityGate to serve the growing national community of leaders who are deeply invested in Faith, Vocation, Calling and Justice. I am pleased to invite you to join us for Citygate’s Spring 2022 Monthly Labs Series the third Thursday of the month through May 2022.
