Rest is not Scarce

I have been following Tricia Hersey’s Instagram Account “The Nap Ministry” (Follow on Instagram here: @thenapministry; and visit her website here: https://thenapministry.wordpress.com). 

Hersey has proclaimed herself the Nap Bishop, and for the new year I have resolved to learn everything I can from her. Her message is not specifically for me, though. At least not directly. Her message is for the Black community who need to hear her central message: that rest is owed to them as reparations, and that they must take it. 

This is not a trite message, although it sounds simple. It is far from simple. Hersey has reached her current prophetic message through in-depth study, and by acknowledging her community’s inherited trauma of the Black body exploited for free labor. The intrinsic worth of the Black body has been for generations equaled to their productivity. Hersey posits that if every Black person refused to produce for the rest of their lives, it would only begin to heal their community and pay the debt our country owes them. That's how long and how wide the collective need for rest is in that community.

As a white person, I'm struggling to answer the question of what I can do to both enable (and empower) rest for the Black community, and also embody rest myself. 

Hersey is not saying that only Black people need rest, she's saying they are OWED rest. Rest has been stolen from generations of Black people. Her message is that white people, all people need to rest too, for the sake of rest itself, but more importantly, because rest is resistance to the capitalistic system that disproportionately burdens people of color.

All people need rest. We as white people are terrified to make room for more rest within our own communities, because deep down inside we know that the systems of capitalism and white supremacy favors our rest over others. Our rest is needed, and the systems in place are favorable for us to get it. We fear that if we make space for everyone to have rest, we'll lose our own.

Our fear and selfishness puts the security of our rest above the availability of rest for others. If you suss it all out: we've decided white supremacy is OK and necessary as long as it keeps our access to rest in quick supply. That's pretty crappy. It's also based on lies.

We all fear that rest is scarce. Short version: it isn't.

For Black people, the supply of rest has been limited either in reality (forced labor), or in manipulation (double standards). Black people have said they have to work twice as hard to get half as far. For Black people, rest might feel like giving up the fight. The system we have now, forces Black people to "hustle" just to get by. If they don't work harder than everyone else, the fear is not that they won't make it to the top, it's that they won't make it at all. 

This system is unjust. That's why Tricia Hersey says a big, fat NOPE to that. She's gonna bypass the system. She's challenging the established rules.

White people have secured access points to rest over a very long time. The way our economy works today protects that access. We work to uphold the systems that have supported our successes: capitalism, and what Hersey calls the "grind culture." We keep functioning within these systems because they are the only way we know how to get the "luxury" of rest and leisure. It's worked for us so far, right? 

If we work hard enough, we make enough money to take a vacation. If we work hard and long enough, we get to retire someday. If we work hard enough, we make enough money to hire other people to do the work that exhausts us. We can have a house cleaner, eat out, get the car detailed, the lawn maintained. We'll save time from all our hard work for rest. Work begets rest. It's worked for us for years, hasn't it? 

Ah, but it hasn't. The irony is that this doesn't seem to pan out for everyone, does it? In fact, more so than ever, it seems our system is working less and less, even for the people it was built to support: white people. 

We're still busy; ceaselessly working toward the next goal. We kick the finish line down the street by our own unsatisfied determination and desires. We wonder when we will "arrive" and the answer is never, because our goal is no longer rest. Our goal has become power, money, and prestige. These goals are mirages that shift as quickly as the slant of the sun on a desert road. This is the grind culture. 

One of the things I have learned with Hersey's message, is that work does not beget rest; rest begets rest. When we rest, we give space for more rest, for others to rest. 

It feels counter-intuitive, but think about it. When I decide that my work email does not need to be answered 24-7, I am setting a boundary that allows my colleagues to not feel like they need to answer my emails ASAP. By setting my own boundary, I am giving space and permission for other boundaries to be set. By de-escalating a situation from "urgent" to "normal," I am setting the tone for how (and how fast) we do things. We have been steadily inflating our speed to match each other in a weird time-speed race. Why are we rushing? Why are we trying to become machinery? Isn't life so much more than that? If we start to scale back, re-set the time-warp speed at which we expect things to be done, we will find rest and we will foster rest in our community.

Our community needs rest. We're in the middle of a pandemic, both physical and mental. Everywhere you look, you hear lonely and exhausted people, with very shallow wells of rest and reprieve to draw from. We blame it on the pandemic, but the truth is, the pandemic only revealed how shallow our wells were to begin with. The pandemic also revealed how heavily we relied on the productivity and grinding of the lowest paid, hardest working people of our society, a category of workers who are disproportionately Black and Brown people. 

A while ago, before the pandemic, I remember reading a post on social media by an exhausted local mother and thinking, I remember when I was that exhausted with young children, why aren't we helping each other more? The answer was and still is that we are all so caught up in the grind-culture that we can only maintain our own existence, our own rest. We feel like we have none to spare. Some people are lucky enough to have a functional village or family nearby for support. But most Americans today live isolated in a sea of people, hoarding their resources because they know they are close to exhaustion.

In order for rest to be realized at the communal level, we must resist the antithesis of rest: the grind culture. This grind culture is the "time-race" I'm talking about above, where everything has to be better, faster, more efficient to the point where we expect machine-like quality and efficiency without stopping to ask if it is even necessary (it isn't). 

Tricia Hersey states that at the base of this grind-culture, and what fuels the ugliness of capitalism, is white supremacy. The grind culture demands that everyone do and produce so that we may uphold some invisible standard (possession of power, privilege, and prestige). The grind culture inevitably forces that invisible standard to ceaselessly rocket higher and higher out of reach. Someone will always reach the goal, and therefore the goal must escalate, because someone else wants it. 

Most of the time, the person at the top is white, and not because they are awesome.

The whole idea built into white supremacy and grind culture is that someone wins. Someone gets to be at the top. Since there are millions of people in this race, there is almost never a winner, but rather a steady, recycling turn-table of the same rich, white people who were born two feet from the finish line. White people like to pride themselves if they were born ten feet from the line and by sheer hard work and skill, sprinted to the top. It feels like a victory. They shout down to the lower echelons of society: "I did it! I made it! Just keep moving, working, racing! You can make it too!"

Meanwhile, on Tricia Hersey's plane of existence, she is not concerned with the apoplectic and out of breath humans on the mountain top. She's napping. She opted out of the whole ridiculous thing. And she is telling her Black community that they can opt out too. They work hard enough. They don't need the race to be whole people.

Grind culture at its very basic function is a traumatizing and racist enterprise. Those who have had rest stolen from them for generations are asked to just keep producing more to keep up, catch up. Tricia Hersey is *done* with that. And we should be, too.

The problem is not whether we are working hard enough. The problem is the system that requires us to grind like machines.

She says that if we rest, we resist this manic operation. We stop the machine from churning out more broken Black bodies (and others who are crushed in this grind). We create space within our communities for all to rest.

So as a white person, when I rest, I am not only seeking that which is needed for myself, I'm squatting in protest on the foundation of white supremacy. I'm using my body as a clear signal that I will no longer participate in this culture that grinds all bodies to dust, particularly those with Black and Brown skin. I am putting a speed bump in the middle of a demonic racetrack. 

Rest begets rest: when I rest, I am communicating that I will not put my body into this cycle of burnout and needless urgency. I am setting a boundary which redefines what the social norms could be. As a white person, I have the privilege and responsibility to set those boundaries in ways that can shift social norms.

Tricia Hersey is calling on Black people everywhere to take a nap. While they nap, white people need to do the work of tearing down the grind culture. White people need to take turns napping and dismantling. 

We need to create a community where everyone has access to rest. We need to create a community where everyone has access to the good things in life: love, community, food, shelter, beauty, work, and the pursuit of happiness. We need to redefine the parameters of what success looks like. We need to take stock in what it means to be human, and what we need to feel whole. Spoiler: it's not power, prestige, or hoards of cash. Rest will teach us all. 

Follow #thenapministry on instagram for more on this revolutionary concept, and start your practice of rest today. Start resisting white supremacy, start resisting the grind culture, start embodying the wholeness of what it means to be human. 

Start where you can and build up. Take a nap, don't answer the email right away. Take time off work, and really take the time off. Don't be productive for a whole day and practice turning off that shame portal when you rest. Empower others in your family to rest. Empower it in your work space. And not the kind of rest that comes because you worked extra hard, hobbling to collapse at the finish line. Genuine, regular rest, before exhaustion. 

Change the small systems around you. Is someone doing the lion's share of work in your home? At work? Is it you? Or is it someone else? Create a system where the work (and rest) is shared. That might mean lowering expectations, and that is not a bad thing. Decrease urgency. 

De-stigmatise rest. It is not laziness. In fact, if you have any religious background, it is built into the foundations of nearly every major religious practice as Sabbath. For some, it's a commandment!

Challenge the current culture! Don't "try not to burnout"- be rested! Don't "try to balance life and work" - be rested! Resist productivity as an intrinsic virtue and value. View "well-rested" as the epitome of whole human experience. 

If you think you have no space or time for rest, The Nap Bishop will tell you that's not true. She knows. You have to brush your teeth every day and you have to rest every day.

Rest is not scarce. We must shake the bounds of white supremacy and embrace communal rest.

Weight

I did the dumbest thing a person can do in the tenth month of a pandemic: I weighed myself. I had intentionally stayed away from the scales because I knew it was a dumb idea to start my morning with numbers. I added insult to injury by weighing myself on the first day of my period, which if you don't know, is like getting a portrait done five minutes after you've woken up. It's just a bad idea all around.

SO I weighed myself, couldn't stop my impulse and there they were: the numbers. And they told me exactly what I expected them to tell me: I had gained weight. OBVIOUSLY. But I gained ten pounds and this felt a little harsh for my scale to thrust at my face.

Now let me tell you a little secret: I feel great. I mean, even though I'm more anxious and I haven't worn a bra or makeup for an untold amount of time, even though I can't even imagine wearing anything with buttons or anything other than cozy socks, even though I am becoming an expert at stretching the acceptable length of time between showers, I actually feel pretty confident in my body. I've been walking lots, wearing sexy yoga pants, that kind of thing. 

Just to be sure I wasn't doing something terrible to myself (because I felt fine and even though I'm sure I could eat more healthy, I feel like I've been doing OK), I looked up my BMI. Because that's a perfect measurement of health. (Please say that last line with all the sarcasm you can muster.) But seriously, it's at least a tool that can help me know if I should maybe be less laissez-faire with my choices. 

Get this: my BMI is in the normal category. 

I am certain that about 90% of the people who read that last line just uttered (possibly out loud): 

"This Bitch." 

And that's not entirely unfair. I get it. Here I am whining about gaining ten pounds and I'm in the "normal" BMI range, whatever that means. I'm on the top of it, but I made it.

This is when it hit me. I feel fine because I AM fine. The numbers are just one measurement that I have had to learn not to take too seriously. If you're fighting with me in your head (as some voices in my own head are trying to do), then you might have some body image issues. It's OK- join the universal club- it takes a long ass time to work that shit out, and the entire capitalistic society is working overtime against your efforts. 

I had forgotten how huge the market was for us feeling crappy about our bodies until I watched cable with commercials for the first time in months at our Airbnb (aka: we need to be ANYWHERE ELSE other than home). Wow. SO many commercials telling you SO many things about your body and food. All of it conflicting, none of it helpful. If you grew up before streaming shows was a thing (which is most of us), then you grew up with at least one source of "your body sucks," aka commercials. Forget about whatever family baggage you have. Body image issues seem to be a foundational part of being human, specifically, American.

But here's the other realization that I had: weight has nothing to do with your body image issues. I'm going to repeat it because even I don't fully believe it: 

Weight has nothing to do with your body image issues. 

Y'ALL. How many skinny-gorgeous-people do you know who are complete lunatics about their bodies? I can name a few. In fact I remember this one baby doll-eyed gorgeous woman confessing her low self-esteem and I was like: "This Bitch." But she wasn't lying. She was *gorgeous* and had body image issues. If you think about it, the list of people who have body image issues is about as diverse in actual body shape/size/ability as the fish in the ocean. 

SO therefore, if you change your numbers, it won't change your mind. The body is a friggin miracle and also an insanely delicate and resilient thing. Human bodies really are bizarre. They deserve a whole lot more than stupid numbers. They deserve to be moved in fun ways, touched, bathed, rested, walked, lotioned, all the nice things you should wish upon an entity that carries your heart, soul, and mind. 

She's working hard y'all! Give her some love, and watch your body relax into the safe space you've created for her. 

$#@%^ the numbers.

What Am I Doing Today?

Crying. Smiling. Breathing. Laughing. Hoping. Preparing.

I know that presidential elections are not the whole story. I know that there is work to be done. I know that there are people I know and love who thought Trump was their answer. I don't understand it, I don't agree, and it makes me a bit devastated. However, I know that all of those people are not monsters.

I refuse to say that someone is a garbage human being if: XYZ. Because as naive as it may be, I'm backed by the saints and prophets of nearly every religion and philosophy when I say that we are all connected, we are all valuable, and we are all worthy of love. So I will continue forward with that because it feels right in my body and soul. It is the one truth that has never changed for me- and many things have changed for me.

Today I cried big fat and small streaming tears. My body released a small portion of four years of stress, anxiety, and the strain of the struggle to hope.

My child said "Yay!" and then he quipped: "And we get a woman too, right?" This is the innocence I want to keep. We don't demonize our political opponents here. We don't sugar-coat our disagreements with them either. We simply state what we think is good and right and what we hope for. My child still hopes. Because we have created a home where hope is still alive. 

Today, for the first time in a while, I felt a little less like our hopefulness was a strain on reality.

Like I said before, we have a lot of work to do. This is not an easy flip of a switch where everything is OK now. No political person is the savior. But I do believe the work has a chance to get done now. There's actually a chance that the debates could become conversations and collaborations. There's a chance that the trajectory of hate and anger can shift to reconciliation and facing the hard stuff with integrity and hope. And compassion. 

Friends: do not demonize the other. We HAVE to figure out how to build relationships. If you hear me saying this as some white girl trying to get us all to get along, don't. I have ulterior motives. Relationships were what helped me grow as a human. It's how I became less bigoted, racist, patriarchal, homophobic, ethnocentric, etc etc. Only when faced with a human being (or a force of nature) who was not like me that I still connected with- that is when change happened. I want this to keep happening to me until all the shit has been burned out of me by love. I want the same for all of you, because how else can we be fully and beautifully human? 

This is how we're made. We're all connected because that connection is the maker and savior of us all. The earth, and all living things are connected. I don't care what religion or non-religion you are. This is a universal truth. The more we are in relationship with all that moves and has breath, the more we all will recognize the divine in ourselves and each other. When we see this divine spark in each other: we will be forced to change what we thought was divine and good. We should face this continually until we can't help but see the divine. We recognize it everywhere. It should blind us.

This world is not dual, binary, or flat. Our universe is profound and gorgeous. Why oh why would we want to miss out on experiencing it? 

Let's get to work. Go.

6 Reasons Your Pastor is About to Quit- Revisited

An article by Thom Rainer made the rounds in my pastor circles a while ago, titled "6 Reasons Your Pastor is About to Quit" and the six reasons listed are all related to Covid. The author alludes that these issues have been there, and this is just a boiling point, but I was hoping the author was going to go a little deeper and explore that point.

I felt inspired to write this not as an argument against the article, but sort of an attempt to unfold some of what's underneath it all, to go a little deeper.

Thom Rainer gets to it here:

Why has this period of great discouragement ensued? Of course, it is connected to COVID-19, but the pandemic really just exacerbated trends already in place. We would have likely gotten to this point in the next three to five years regardless.  

I also want you to know that these pastors do not think they will be leaving ministry. They just believe the current state of negativity and apathy in many local churches is not the most effective way they can be doing ministry. 

This is the real stuff. I am going to springboard off of Rainer's points and offer some insight based on my own experience in ministry. I've held a few jobs in the local church (youth minister, congregational care), my husband is a pastor, and I have a LOT of friends who are in ministry, as well as membership in some online groups of clergy women. Not all of what I have to say stems from my specific personal experience (some does), but all of it stems from real experiences of people I actually know. 

1 Pastors are weary from the pandemic, just like everyone else. 

Rainer states this truth, reminding people of the humanity of pastors. I want you to take it a step further. What do we do when a major transition happens, or something traumatic in our lives? We tend to have some serious introspection. Many clergy (and I'm sure many others) have been confronted with their mortality, the meaning of life, and all the other existential stuff that a pandemic stirs up. You are not the only ones having that conversation with yourself.

When that happens, you start to ask questions that our busy life didn't allow, like: is this what I'm supposed to be doing? Is this what I *want* to be doing? Could I be doing more in a different setting? All of a sudden, we see the ways we are spinning our wheels. 2020 has offered a stark background for our questions. The weight of our questions (and their answers) seem much heavier and more important than before. Our calling actually feels heavier, and we are asking ourselves: are we spinning wheels here or getting somewhere? We think to ourselves: the world needs help, and I feel like I'm working overtime and not even making a dent!

Right now it doesn't feel like we're getting anywhere, which leads to the next point...

2 Pastors are greatly discouraged about the fighting taking place among church members about the post-quarantine church.

Bingo. In the midst of the existential questions, we look at our "office," which is the church for clergy, and see some really terrible (and ineffective) behavior. There are businesses that are completely re-writing the playbook for their future (do we even need an office building?). Clergy are trying to do that with their churches, but the Church has been in fight or flight for a while, and right now a lot of them are choosing to fight, with the pastor and each other. 

I am a part of an online group of clergy women, and trust me when I say that people have been behaving badly for a very, very, very long time. You probably already knew that, but you may not have known they were behaving so badly to the pastor. Let's go ahead and exclude the crappy Pastors who are abusive and power-trippy. I would venture to say most pastors are actually just trying to be good people, and help other people be good and connect to God. The conversation around whether their theology or methodology is good, we can save for another day.

When Covid hit, a lot of Pastors knew they were walking onto a minefield with every decision they made. Church people can be pretty awful to their pastors. It's not the exception, it's the rule. 

So if you think you have something to offer the world and your response to that is being a pastor; there's nothing like a pandemic to make things bad enough for you to look again and say "maybe there's a better way, a way that doesn't kill me." And yes, we're talking life and death for some of these pastors. Pastor suicides are not uncommon, and if they don't do it intentionally, they do it by overworking and becoming so unhealthy that their bodies give up under the strain. 

It's hard for pastors to prioritize their own mental health when their congregations demand they sacrifice it for theirs. And time and again, the pastor obliges, putting their lives on the sacrificial altar for the church. The tragedy is that this is entirely unnecessary, (and actually terrible theology) but a pastor often stops just short of helping themselves, because it is their calling to help others, and in their minds the sacrifice is a necessary one. I'll get into that more later, but this may be one of the most toxic and prevalent behaviors I've seen in pastors today. They tell everyone to rest, to prioritize family, etc, and forget that they deserve the same basic human rights and privileges. 

3 Pastors are discouraged about losing members and attendance. 

This might seem, like the author said, "all about the numbers," but he's right, it's not. However, he talks about pastors worrying about losing friends in the congregation. I don't think it's about losing friends either. Not to burst any bubbles, but pastors are learning that church members make for very challenging friendships. There's always a line and boundary when you cease to be a friend and become their pastor. This is not an equitable relationship, no matter how hard you try. 

Many pastors confess just how lonely they are, making the irony of being surrounded by people that much more painful. I have learned first hand just how fickle church friends can be. There's a reason why seminary talks a LOT about boundaries and the importance of having social connection outside of the church. Unfortunately, the pastor's schedule makes it challenging to be social outside of church. You can't even go visit family for the weekend because you have to be home on Sunday. 

So many pastors are trapped in one-sided relationships with people whom they love and would do anything for, with no real commitment on the other end. The needs of these people are so consuming, that it leaves very little time for the pastor to invest in more genuine and mutual friendships, so they are often left either very lonely, or in forced ignorance that the relationships are mutual. This ignorance is often burst by some tragedy or event that leaves the pastor even more heart-broken when they realize just how conditional the friendship was. 

The other part I want to note is that the numbers are important to some extent because that is how your efficacy as a pastor is measured: NUMBERS. It's also the determination of whether you have a job (or get paid). And I don't care how committed you are to your job, you need to be paid to live. Most pastors don't expect to be millionaires, but it would be nice if they could pay their bills, which many cannot. I feel the need to reiterate this: many pastors struggle financially. I'm talking people with 3 higher-level degrees struggling to pay rent and medical bills. 

So the question returns: do I want to continue to use my gifts in such a way that will be measured (incorrectly) by numbers, at the price of my social and mental health? Do I want my livelihood to be attached to whether my "help" is attractive enough to people? For pastors who live in parsonages, the job is more than just a salary, it's your home too. That's scary. Our entire financial security is owned by the church. Those numbers are scary. It's why many have stayed, not knowing if they can make it outside the church. "Hi, I'd like to be your newest account manager. I have three theology degrees."

4 Pastors don’t know if their churches will be able to support ministries financially in the future. 

This is basically the same thing as number 3. Less people, less money, less ministry. Which staff person do you have to cut? Do you offer to cut your own salary? Many do, and many have it cut for them. If you are faced with the survival of your church (and staff) or your salary, it looks un-Christian to say "I need the money." Aaaaand now you can't pay your bills. But you can't ask for help, that's tacky. God provides, and all that.

But deeper than that: is the church even effective? See number 2. A pastor is thinking: these people are arguing over the color of the walls, the quality of video, the mandate of masks; they are not making great disciples. Maybe, just maybe, the Church (universal) is changing to something new? Maybe the pastor is being called to do ministry in the New Church, and let go of the four walls and toxic dynamic. Maybe these pastors have all felt a calling out of the church, and the pandemic just made it even more painful to stay. Maybe the pandemic finally put even the minuscule safety net of the church at such a risk that they have nothing left to lose. 

They have been trying to bail out a sinking ship, and the pandemic has shown them that maybe the ship sank a long time ago and they've been drowning with it. Or, more optimistically, they've reached shore and it's time to move on to discover what's ahead. 

5 Criticisms against pastors have increased significantly. 

So this is a follow up of 2 for the most part. All that fighting is mainly directed at the pastor (with some exceptions, of course). And all that fighting does not effect lay people's livelihood. A pastor who loses half their church in some uproar: they may lose half their salary or all of it. They certainly lose sleep and sanity.

In normal times, a pastor's patience has to build up enough stamina that you can mostly handle the people behaving badly. This is not always true though. Before the pandemic, there were plenty of pastors leaving toxic congregations because no amount of resilience and thick skin could withstand it. Plus, most pastors have families, and it's hard to ask that resilience of your entire family. I for one have zero patience for bullshit when the health and wellbeing of my family is in jeopardy. 

Female pastors and pastors of color who do not look like their congregation have been disproportionately bearing this burden of congregational (and colleague) meanness. It gets really ugly. Now that the pandemic has added some fuel to that fire (forget the already insane political climate), and you're reaching the boiling point. A pastor is smart to get out of that pot, and fast.

And while I'm talking about people being awful to their pastors and church staff, it begs the question: Why should we expect pastors to endure this abuse? Many pastors have deluded themselves into thinking this is their "cross to bear." (I mentioned this earlier.)

Hear me pastors: just because God calls you, doesn't mean you're immune to trauma (or your family). It doesn't mean you're literally immune to this pandemic. It doesn't mean that God gave you some magic potion to make all the emotional and physical stress roll off your shoulders. Enduring trauma is not an item on a gold-star chart that God has, saying "Oh she survived that traumatic experience and then stayed there, she must love me." 

No. Full stop. No.

We shouldn't expect our pastors to be martyrs AT OUR OWN HANDS. Martyrs are for tyrannical governments, not pissy people. 

There, I said it. Go read that sentence again if you need to. 

Sometimes blazing a trail means leaving the trail.

6 The workload for pastors has increased greatly. 

Last but not least, because everyone else is exhausted, the pastor picks up the pieces like the infinite source of energy/love/spirituality robots they are asked to be. Churches are generally understaffed with volunteers and overworking staff. Also, pastors aren't trained in AV/internet/whatever. Most of them figured it out, only for people to have an opinion on how it could be done better.

But here's the deeper part. They were already working too much. They were already working weird schedules. And I'm not just talking about the time clocked. I'm talking about the mental load. The emotional load. A pastor's job is so fuzzy in terms of what is "work" and what isn't. It can be all-consuming if a pastor doesn't set proper boundaries. And pastors that set proper boundaries? Yeah, the church doesn't usually like that. 

Now it's like the pressure has increased on every part of what made their job hard and defeating.

The knot in their shoulder has a giant fist grinding into it. They can't miss it. What is it? It's that final recognition that none of this was sustainable. It's realizing that this is not working. This is not what I want. This is not what anyone should want. This is broken. 

Much like many systems that have crashed under the pressure of a pandemic, pastors can see that the church is in some serious need of reformation. 

And the only way they know how to help is to leave.

So, this was all up-lifting. 

What can you do? 

If you are a pastor: follow your call, but make sure it's not the calling of fear and scarcity, but rather the calling of God who literally made stuff out of nothing. 

Set boundaries for yourself and stop trying to be Jesus. In the words of my new favorite theologian, Tricia Hersey (the "Nap Bishop"): "lay yo ass down and take a nap." This comes from her very serious, very deep understanding of who God is, and who we are as humans. You are not a sacrificial lamb. You are not a martyr. You are not a part in the production line of human productivity. 

When you act like that, you actually diminish the Kin-dom of God and feed into what Hersey calls the "grind culture" (which she will point out has White Supremacy at its foundation). Stop doing that. Stop modeling that kind of behavior. It's not healthy for you or anyone else. 

You as a pastor, by resting, you are resisting the very culture and systems that threaten to undermine the Church and Kingdom of God itself. Rest is holy resistance. And for people of color, rest is OWED you; rest is reparations. (Seriously, follow The Nap Ministry on instagram.)

Clergy: you are a fully embodied and complex human with needs, hopes, dreams. Listen to those. That's the magic God works with. Do some inside work if you haven't already. Go to therapy, meditate, sit outside and stare at the trees. 

And if you need to hear this: it's OK to leave.

If you are a member of a church: maybe just start by taking a little more responsibility for the future of the Church. And I'm not asking you to be a martyr, we're changing that dynamic, remember? It wouldn't hurt to show your church's staff a little love (especially the pastor/s). Treat them like the full humans they are.

But more than that, I'm talking about thinking of your role as someone who can support and move with the Spirit. Someone who feeds and waters the dreams born of the Spirit. Don't be afraid.

Start thinking about what a sustainable, inspired model of God's Kin-dom looks like. If your pastor has mentioned some ideas that actually make sense: publicly throw your support at it. Think communal, collaborative. Think rest, repair, healing, wholeness. Dare to imagine and engage in creating something new.

Stop trying to be right or look right. 

Start trying to be loving. 

Do some inside work: go to therapy, meditate. Remind yourself that your staff with years and education experience might know something. Remind yourself that you have gifts too, and it might not be running a religious institution. This is OK. Very OK. Good. So let it go. 

We need you where you're gifted. Hone those skills.

To all of us: we MUST remember that we're all human. Not machinery. We're all connected. Not islands. 

Re-assess our expectations. Are they healthy, helpful, and do they help others thrive? Do they help you thrive? 

When we start to answer those questions honestly, when we start to rest and love, we might get to follow our prophetic leaders into the next iteration of Church. We shouldn't be running off a burning, sinking ship. 

We should be following a light.

Last but not least: we may not all be going to the same places. This is also OK. Let the people go. Pastors, congregants, neighbors. Let them all go. Let yourself go.

Maybe we're being led to the promised land. 

4-6 Weeks

Now that many of us have been in this quarantine for over a month, I feel a shift in the way we're operating. It's not the best shift. The grace and forgiveness that flooded our veins in the beginning of this when we were all figuring out our "new normal" has started to subside. I'm not saying people are being less helpful or kind, but we're ramping up our expectations of normalcy. We are sure that it's time for things to be OK (whether or not they indeed are).

Some of this is evidenced by states and localities who are planning to open up despite evidence that this is unwise. Some of this I see in work places when folks are now expected to go back to their usual work load (or be able to increase it), as if now is the time when we should have this work-from-home thing figured out. (Thank God not my work place, but I have friends who are back to the grind times ten!) Some of this I see in ourselves, where before we said "it's OK, I can be gentle with myself in this time," we are now saying "well, I really should have this figured out by now, why am I so stupid?"

I don't know what the science or sociology is behind all of this, but I suspect that there is something empirical about 4-6 weeks as the amount of time humans expect to adjust and be back in business. I wonder if this has anything to do with how long we expect mothers to be able to adjust before rejoining the work force, as 4-6 weeks is often the amount of maternity leave offered (if they are lucky enough to be given the time and rejoin). That time frame is also a pretty common time given for healing from surgeries or broken/sprained body parts. About 4-6 weeks after a death, we find it sort of uncomfortable if someone is still raw with grief. Again- maybe the science is against me on this, but I have a feeing there are some correlations between that time-frame and our patience level for adjustment.

After 4-6 weeks, no matter what is actually happening, something in our brain says "This should feel normal now, all unrealistic expectations are invited to return!"

We're at that mark, when folks are antsy, what was good-enough is now not. What was reasonable is now ridiculous. What was above-expectations is now sub-par. But here's the problem: just like a mother in week 6 postpartum, we're not fully adjusted. We're not fully healed.

Also, I don't think we're ever supposed to be fully adjusted to a pandemic. Just sayin.

So instead of being fully-adjusted and completely ready to move into this new way of being, we're actually losing it. We're less adjusted because what we've really been doing is holding our breath. We've been holding it as long as we could, still functioning and moving around, but knowing that it was weird. We've just all finally broken and taken a collective breath of pandemic and I think all of us just went "OH Hell no. This cannot be what it is."

So we close our eyes and walk off a cliff.

Sorry, no, I mean, we close our eyes and just imagine that it is in fact, normal. That this is all fine, we are fine, you are fine, it's FINE. And in order to fuel our collective delusion, we just will normalcy into being. I am now fully functional, and so are you. So help me God, or I have to open my eyes to see the truth.

I believe that there is a new normal in all of this, but we're not there yet. It's going to take a little longer, and it's OK if you are not feeling OK yet. It's going to take a lot longer than 4-6 weeks. We are doing good work, we have made lots of adjustments. Now we need to give ourselves some time to adjust to the adjustments.

It's OK if this is still hard, or actually harder.

Sleep Is Special

First: I am not a morning person. I have never been a morning person in my entire life. I had to be woken up every Christmas, and nearly always would have chosen more sleep if I was given the choice.

This morning my husband shakes me awake around 730am. This is not a terrible time to be awake, but in our quarantine time, my night owl tendencies have increased (bed by midnight if I'm lucky) and sleeping in has become a pastime rather than a luxury (up and at em by 9am, maybe).

He asks me: "Would you mind getting Luna (our St. Bernard who is whining to pee)? I've been up in the night with Kenzie (our storm-fearing shitzu-yorkie mix who barks at thunder), and I'd love to try to get some sleep."

Me, the loving wife I am: "huh?"

He repeats himself and I am now slightly more cogent and respond "yeah, sure."

I woke up, let the beast out and fed her. She falls immediately back to sleep on the couch and I can't go back upstairs for fear that Luna will suddenly wake up and then wake the sleeping house. I decided that it is a lovely time to be awake and I shall enjoy this peaceful morning! No one is awake, I can drink my coffee, eat my breakfast at leisure, and enjoy playing some word games on my phone. Delightful! I should do this more often! It's like getting an extra hour with no obligations!

My youngest comes down, looks at me in shock and asks why I'm up (even at 830, it's a valid question). I chat with him, we look at his birthday wish list, and it is a lovely time.

Once the rest of the house starts waking up, I make my way back upstairs to shower, get the laundry running, do little odds and ends before I start another weird day of work-from-home-in-a-ministry-job.

I'm thinking, maybe I should really try this morning thing!

1130am. I've done some work, I've run the dishwasher and *boom*. I remember why I don't start the day so early.

It's 1145am and I'm ready for my nap. I fixed myself tea to try to hold it off. And now I'm typing this because I'm entertaining myself and trying to stay awake. My eyes are dazed. I feel that feeling like when you move your head from side to side and the room is delayed. You know what I mean? Your vision and brain aren't as fast. It's like when the sound is a second or two after the mouth moves. You think I'm exaggerating, but this is my body on less sleep (which admittedly is enough for 95% of people, me excluded).

This is not a pleasant feeling for me. I don't like fuzzy brain and loopy eyes. I don't like looking down the barrel of a full day into the night when I finally get to sleep again. I don't want to muscle through and get used to that feeling for one or two measly "free" hours in the morning. It's not that special.

Sleep is special.

I'm going to sleep in tomorrow.

I'm Sorry Elizabeth

I voted for Biden in the primaries. I said my apologies to Elizabeth as I did it, and I meant it. I was sorry, but not for what I did, at least not completely. I was sorry that the world isn't fair.

People have been so upset that a well-qualified woman will not win the democratic nomination. I am upset. I am also not surprised. Should anyone be? But I am also part of the reason it happened. The reason: I've learned a very humbling, hard lesson. That is that the world really isn't fair, and I cannot always have what I want, and that sometimes (many times) I have to put others before me even if it looks like I'm submitting to the status quo. Sometimes progress isn't always for me right now, but it's the long game that counts. Others who have more to lose than I do showed me Biden was their best shot. So I fell in line.

Before Super Tuesday, there were articles swarming everywhere, all saying basically the same thing: "She can win if you vote for her!" But the problem was, she had already lost. Not in the numbers game necessarily, but if people are writing articles trying to convince me not to count someone out, the truth is that the unfair world has already done so. My submitting to this truth was, in my opinion, a smart move in potentially unseating the current president. Our current president is not in office because of fairness, intellect, capabilities, debate prowess, or anything else other than pure corruption and racist hatred.

It makes me laugh when people say Biden can't win because he'll lose a debate or not be able to speak intelligibly. Um. Do you see who is in office now? Wisdom and eloquence was not his path to the position. Intelligence has only been a small part of the political process, a fact that has not changed since the beginning of politics. Intelligence helps, for sure, but it's not the only tool.

I saw that candidates were backing out and endorsing Biden, I saw that the governor of Virginia endorsed Biden, I heard from a well-connected political person that they were supporting Biden. It was clear that the party was bolstering Biden. My experience as an educated woman who likes plans made me love Warren, but my experience is not everyone's.

What really hurt was when I texted my Dad, a lifetime Republican, and basically your typical old white dude (sorry Dad). My Dad is not a fan of Trump, he is a member of the old guard Republicans, with Reagan and George Sr. as models. I asked him: in this election, would you vote for Biden and/or Warren against Trump? Then I asked in parentheses, because I already knew the answer, if he would vote for Sanders. His answer: "Sanders: definitely no. Warren: probably no. Biden: it's a toss up."

Then I kept hearing from black women that Biden was their pick. Here is a quote from one woman who explained why Biden had proved himself for her:

Let me explain something to you about Joe Biden and why some of the shit that he’s done in his past doesn’t matter. This old rich white man played second fiddle to a black man. Not just any black man, but a younger black man, a smart black man. Not just for a day. Not 1, not 2 but eight years. He took his cues from this black man who had more power than him and was virtually unknown when he took the presidency, and Joe Biden had been around forever. He was willing and proud to be his wing man. Not once did he try to undermine him, this black man. Instead Joe walked in lockstep with him, he respected him, he loved and trusted him. He was led by him and he learned from him. And Joe did not have a problem with it. You tell me what 40+ year “establishment” white politician has ever done that. Joe Biden is cut from a different cloth. And black folks understand that and for good reason. He has shown it. This is what showing up and being an ally looks like. When black people say they know Joe, this is how we know.- Laurie Goff

So there it was: the old white dude and black women had spoken. Biden was the best shot. I listened to the women who had everything to lose, and took heart that the old white dude could potentially be convinced to vote blue.

At 38 years old I hated asking my Dad who was more palatable to him so I could have that nugget of information going forth. I wasn't asking for instruction though. I wanted to know- who has a shot? When we have the luxury of choice, we can write in our candidate and feel proud to vote our conscience. When we have the luxury of choice, we get to choose from a list of highly qualified candidates and hope, even expect that the best person wins.

That's not where we are today. The luxury of choice is gone. The choice is cake or death. I choose Not Death. In 2016, our collective liberal and moderate conscience decided that we had luxuries. My Dad, not liking his choice (knowing Trump would be a disaster), wrote in his choice to keep his conscience clear, assuming he didn't need to "hold his nose," that the work would be done for him. Others picked their favorite progressive candidate because luxury. Still others held their noses to vote for Trump because of one issue they really wanted to have power over, even though they knew that he would be a disaster otherwise. But for them, they didn't have much to lose either, so luxury again. And here we are. Luxury got us here. I can't lean on my luxury anymore. Not even if I'm a woman. Especially not if I'm a white woman.

There are much bigger things happening behind the scenes than most of us (including me) know. So when I, a regular citizen, can see that there is purposeful movement to bolster Biden, I take notice. I can probably survive another Trump term, many cannot. So for those who cannot (and then for me), I will fall in line. It sucks not to vote for who I loved, it hurts, it feels like submitting, but in this moment, I don't want to lean on my luxury and pick the underdog. I want to kick Trump out.

Everyone has been saying that the Democratic Party needs to band together, fall in line, unify. Then when it happens, everyone gets mad. Obviously, we hoped to fall in line behind whomever was our favorite choice. I know. I did. I wanted to vote for another woman in the 2020 elections and have Trump's ass kicked by a school teacher. But it wasn't to be.

Biden is not a bad choice. He wasn't my first choice, but when it comes to my future, my children's future, and the future of the country: I choose democracy over Trump. Every damn day. And Biden was where the cards were falling.

I really am sorry, Elizabeth.