The Journey

The Journey

We are all, individually and collectively, on a journey. In our United Church context, we openly name – Confess – the things that separate us from God and one another. We struggle, however, with our own stuff. How do we share our own dysfunction, our own brokenness? I am not talking about some trite opportunity to weep our woes and beat our chests in a competition of whose issues trump the others. I am talking about safe spaces to share what needs to be shared, in order that we might heal, to move toward wholeness.

This journey, when entered with intention, is about Discipleship. Regardless of what you believe or in whom who have a sense of allegiance, as long as it leads you to compassion for others, I do not think it is anyone’s place to judge. For me, as a Christian, the language with which I articulate my faith and understanding of God begins with a Rabbi name Yeshua, whose life pointed beyond itself – the Christ. As I continue on this path of self-knowing, and hopefully healing, I am forced to confront my patterns, whether they are helpful or destructive.

I like the image of patterns, perhaps this is word-smithing, because it is neutral. The neutrality, however, is modified by whether or not they are good for me. If they are helpful, then they are things I should hold onto, to further practice (i.e. communication that allows for dialogue, not debate). If they are unhelpful, however, then they can be paralleled with an addiction (i.e. using money in a way that affirms me by what I purchase): if I repeat the same action that causes me ill, then I need to find ways in which to lessen, to move away from that pattern.

Swirling Patterns of the Wave

Now, the problem for almost all of us is that our patterns are often borne in our Families of Origin. There are indeed cultural influences – that whole Nurture vs. Nature debate – but a lot of who we are, the unconscious ways we respond to life and all its unpredictability, is first experienced in the community into which we are born, whether that is a nuclear family of 2.5 people or an extended family with Great-Aunts pinching our cheeks and Grand-Fathers who show us how to pinch the tomato to know if it is yet ripe.

As we wrestle with what we need to let go of and what we need to hold onto, we likely begin to see the patterns into which we came into Creation. The challenge, the murkiness, is that some of those patterns are so embedded in our families that they are not just named and then discarded. Patterns, even those that are soul-devouring and self-destructive, are safe – something about the devil you know. Once a pattern is named, the opportunity for change occurs. And change comes with choice. And choice is where things get even murkier. That choice, at times, leads us into a place where what we need to be whole places us in a place that feels like either/or, not both/and in respect to our families. If the people we know and love so dearly perpetuate patterns that are harmful, then we are left in quandary – does my health supersede the relationship? And, if so, what are the ramifications of stepping out of the connexions that bind us, knowing that we still love them, but cannot be a part of them any longer?

I would love to say there is a simple, binary solution to such situations. Stepping away from a sister who suffers addiction, such as meth-amphetamine, does not mean that you do not love her, but it might mean that the addiction that damages all of you, may result in it taking her life. Patterns are neutral, what they do to us never are. For us to be whole, requires us to make murky decisions that leave questions more abundant than naught. But to simply remain in a place of inertia, a place of indecisiveness is not, ultimately, about change or transformation. It is in these places and times when wisdom is learned, where it is our stories that are our teachers, not the decision itself.