I have not written in recent months. Truth be told, I really have not written much in recent years. It’s been a challenge to find my voice. I have lists I’ve made of quotes, inspiration, and wisdom—all waiting to be put to pen and expounded upon. But I’ve lacked the creative juice to make it work.
This is tough because I really do enjoy writing.
There are probably a multitude of reasons for this disconnect. Relocating to NYC nearly three years ago. Transitioning yet again professionally. Building a strong foundation for my relationship. Establishing new relationships. Letting go of affiliations that no longer serve me well. Bringing closure to financial obligations. These kinds of tasks take lots of energy. It’s hard to find the wherewithal to collect ideas and then articulate them in a way that is fresh and engaging.
So I’ve been grappling with this, knowing that there are things inside of me that must find voice. For I believe I am as much responsible for what I don't say as for what I do.
I’m not the only one who sees this about me. Over the last several years multiple people have said to me: When are you going to speak again? When are you going to write again? What are you doing? We miss your voice!
Oh, I’ve spoken at a few conferences and special meetings along the way. I’ve blogged here and there. But I haven’t communicated with the strength, clarity, and consistency of which I’m capable.
About this incapacitation I’ve thought long and hard.
Years ago I had a very successful career in the church world. (I call it my “first career”, my second being my work over the last ten years in the field of addiction and mental health).
I was privileged in my first career to address many congregations, diverse denominations, and even different faith traditions. I was able to build bridges and bring reconciliation to communities that desired it. That work and service carried me to many, many cities, nations, and zones of conflict. Each place I traveled to and each person I met left a deposit within me that I still hold dear.
But I knew I could not be true to who I was and stay in environments that would not receive all of who I was. So I decided to leave those places behind because I could not stand the thought of being duplicitous. I also did not want to risk bringing others down who weren’t ready for me being fully me.
You see, there are ramifications when we come out of one thing and enter into a new way of life. Not everyone is ready for the change it brings. The empathetic, sensitive part of me realized that. So did the fearful part. I did not want to be judged, condemned or rejected, because I really do love people—even the ones who don’t “get it”.
But the good news is along this journey I’ve picked up many unexpected friends. I’ve listened to the stories of those who have suffered at the hands of family, society, religion, politics, and various systems of injustice and inequity. I’ve stepped in and encouraged and helped to bring transformation where I could do my small part.
But there is still this gnawing desire to speak out, to stand in my truth, to give a voice to the voiceless, to let others know that there are other ways of living than the ineffective, impotent ones they’ve inherited. There really are other fantastic ways to live life.
These better options are what bring me to the life of Rachel Held Evans.
Last Saturday my social media feed began to be filled with the posts of friends who knew her well. I did not know her personally, but I had celebrated her voice for nearly ten years. Her sudden departure has been very jarring for me, her untimely death mystifying to me. I’ve contemplated why voices for justice are cut short, while voices of injustice continue to grow louder in the vitriolic rhetoric that permeates our culture.
Learning of her death has also been an indictment against my personal silence. I think stopped speaking out because I ultimately I couldn’t handle the vitriol, judgmentalism, and criticism that I knew would come my way. I had experienced more than my fair share of judgmental religious folks in my first career and did not care to be on the receiving end of their hell, fire, and brimstone.
I do believe religious people can be some of the meanest on the planet. They feel their actions and words are those of God so they are justified in whatever they say and do—even if it is illogical, unethical, immoral, or unconscionable. If God’s on your side you can really justify doing anything you want, even if it is harmful to others, right?
Rachel Held Evans spoke out against mean religion, and it cost her. She spoke out for the marginalized and those on the edges. It is said that because of this she had to change publishers, change churches, and find new communities that would receive her. She wrote candidly about her experiences and personal faith. She gave those of us who felt our voices had been snatched away a consistent hope that a different truth and reality could still be realized in today’s world.
I believe in that kind of world. I believe in a world where people are embraced and not just tolerated, where those on the edges are sat at the head of the banquet table, where the misfits, malcontents, and outcasts are accepted for the unique gifts and talents they bring.
When I was fifteen-years-old, I toured the slums of Cite Soleil in Port-au-Prince, Haiti. I helped bring medical aid and food provisions to some of the poorest of the poor in the Western Hemisphere. I experienced extreme injustice and inequality. This impacted me very deeply. I can still recall the stench of disease and death that day.
My Haitian tour guide sat me down at the end of the day on a curb surrounded by rubbish, refuse, and human waste. We talked about the people we had visited and their plight. He looked at me squarely and exclaimed, “Jonathan, how is that you are so young and you speak of things the way you do? You are a prophet!”
The words of Emmanuel stunned me. In the midst of some of humanity’s worst suffering and squalor, I had a spiritual experience. I heard clearly the prophetic challenge being delivered to me, calling me to a higher purpose in life. I have never forgotten that encounter.
So during this season I’m reclaiming my prophetic voice that has always been a part of me. I may politically offend. I may step on religious toes. I may challenge deeply-held beliefs. I may expose prejudices. I probably will do these things because that’s what I do to myself on an ongoing basis in the pursuit of truth, justice, liberty, and equality.
If my thinking is not being challenged, I’m not really growing. And it goes the same for you.
We are not promised a tomorrow. All we have is this present moment. For today, I have breath in me. I’m going to use it. I will continue to stand for the “other”. I will speak out for the poor, the despised, the outcast, the foreigner, the parentless, the voiceless—until we all come to a place where differences are celebrated, neighbors are loved, captives are set free, the lost are found, and those wandering come safely home.
Great post my friend! I think our circuitous journey has brought us to the same conclusion. Please. Keep writing.
Posted by: Alohaiamleilani | Monday, 10 June 2019 at 16:12