When I think of the things I am most proud of as I have led the healing community at my local church, it’s how we’ve intentionally made room for folks on the margins.
It’s not just those who struggle with an addiction or past hurt – that comes with the territory.
I’m talking about people with physical, developmental and intellectual disabilities. Many of them have experienced exclusion and loneliness in their adult lives because of their unique situations.
It takes courage and intentionality (and a little more energy than we have sometimes); but as the years have unfolded, a few of these most important people have come and remained and found a home with us. And it’s always worth the effort in the end.
As in any healthy community that places a high value on inclusion, leaders sometimes have to intervene and make adjustments to keep the community safe and reduce the distractions so that people can concentrate on their healing processes. Sometimes those can be difficult conversations, requiring discernment and intentionality bathed in love.
A few days ago, I was talking through just such a situation with a leader. A woman I’ll call Susan needed to be redirected to what we felt would be a more life-giving path for her.
The leader (I’ll call her Louise) and I spoke about the pragmatics of raising the safety and reducing distractions in our gatherings so that everyone could focus on the work God had called them to. We also agreed, again, on our shared commitment to our value of inclusion. I said that no matter the outcome, Susan belongs with us.
And in agreement, Louise said something amazing:
“Susan has far more to teach us than we have to teach her.”
Louise went into a little more detail on how – even when it’s uncomfortable – people are changed for the better when they slow down and interact with Susan.
With that one thought, our leadership conversation very quickly went from a relative abstraction to something deeply personal.
“She has far more to teach us…”
If you’ve been reading this blog,
or watching my social media feed,
or listening in on just about any conversation I’ve had since my daughter Julia has been alive – you have heard me say something close to this.
It’s a thread I have woven into just about everything I create (including the previous post).
“She has far more to teach us…”
It’s the reason Jocelyn and I are keeping Julia with the community of kids she’s grown up with as they move into high school.
It’s a conviction that has buoyed us as we watch the developmental gap continue to widen between Julia and those same kids.
It’s the meaning I cling to when things are complex and Julia is showing her more difficult side.
It’s the hope we believe in as we think through what life will look like for her as an adult with Down syndrome navigating a world unpracticed in the art of slowing down, sliding over and making room for her.
Sometimes, as I’m interacting with Julia or one of her friends, I recite in my head a list of the life-giving human attributes that the Apostle Paul called The Fruits of the Spirit:
Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control…
Irrespective of religion, these are marks of what is best in humanity.
And when I’m in my right mind to actually see it, in every interaction, Julia displays and models at least some of those attributes.
The ones that she seems to be missing any given moment are her way of calling me to “fill in the gap” with my own. Her impatience calls me to sharpen my own capacity for patience to cover her deficit – and become a better person because of it.
And so the cycle of growth and relationship continues. We’ll likely work on self-control or faithfulness the next time around.
It’s undoubtedly a heavy lift sometimes, but her surplus of love and joy (even when she’s grumpy) fuels me to choose patience and kindness and gentleness and live it out for her as we live this life together.
That give and take is actually true of any relationship. It is an education in receiving what is beautiful in others, learning from it and reflecting back the best of yourself.
With Julia and others like her, however, it is leaving behind the simplicity of high school and moving into a university education in self-sacrificial relationships. Hard, but so eminently worth it.
My friend Susan, Julia and so many others…
They all have far more to teach us – and we are supposedly the ones in charge.
But it’s damn nice to get that reminder once in a while.
Far More to Teach Us…
When I think of the things I am most proud of as I have led the healing community at my local church, it’s how we’ve intentionally made room for folks on the margins.
It’s not just those who struggle with an addiction or past hurt – that comes with the territory.
I’m talking about people with physical, developmental and intellectual disabilities. Many of them have experienced exclusion and loneliness in their adult lives because of their unique situations.
It takes courage and intentionality (and a little more energy than we have sometimes); but as the years have unfolded, a few of these most important people have come and remained and found a home with us. And it’s always worth the effort in the end.
As in any healthy community that places a high value on inclusion, leaders sometimes have to intervene and make adjustments to keep the community safe and reduce the distractions so that people can concentrate on their healing processes. Sometimes those can be difficult conversations, requiring discernment and intentionality bathed in love.
A few days ago, I was talking through just such a situation with a leader. A woman I’ll call Susan needed to be redirected to what we felt would be a more life-giving path for her.
The leader (I’ll call her Louise) and I spoke about the pragmatics of raising the safety and reducing distractions in our gatherings so that everyone could focus on the work God had called them to. We also agreed, again, on our shared commitment to our value of inclusion. I said that no matter the outcome, Susan belongs with us.
And in agreement, Louise said something amazing:
“Susan has far more to teach us than we have to teach her.”
Louise went into a little more detail on how – even when it’s uncomfortable – people are changed for the better when they slow down and interact with Susan.
With that one thought, our leadership conversation very quickly went from a relative abstraction to something deeply personal.
“She has far more to teach us…”
If you’ve been reading this blog,
or watching my social media feed,
or listening in on just about any conversation I’ve had since my daughter Julia has been alive – you have heard me say something close to this.
It’s a thread I have woven into just about everything I create (including the previous post).
“She has far more to teach us…”
It’s the reason Jocelyn and I are keeping Julia with the community of kids she’s grown up with as they move into high school.
It’s a conviction that has buoyed us as we watch the developmental gap continue to widen between Julia and those same kids.
It’s the meaning I cling to when things are complex and Julia is showing her more difficult side.
It’s the hope we believe in as we think through what life will look like for her as an adult with Down syndrome navigating a world unpracticed in the art of slowing down, sliding over and making room for her.
Sometimes, as I’m interacting with Julia or one of her friends, I recite in my head a list of the life-giving human attributes that the Apostle Paul called The Fruits of the Spirit:
Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control…
Irrespective of religion, these are marks of what is best in humanity.
And when I’m in my right mind to actually see it, in every interaction, Julia displays and models at least some of those attributes.
The ones that she seems to be missing any given moment are her way of calling me to “fill in the gap” with my own. Her impatience calls me to sharpen my own capacity for patience to cover her deficit – and become a better person because of it.
And so the cycle of growth and relationship continues. We’ll likely work on self-control or faithfulness the next time around.
It’s undoubtedly a heavy lift sometimes, but her surplus of love and joy (even when she’s grumpy) fuels me to choose patience and kindness and gentleness and live it out for her as we live this life together.
That give and take is actually true of any relationship. It is an education in receiving what is beautiful in others, learning from it and reflecting back the best of yourself.
With Julia and others like her, however, it is leaving behind the simplicity of high school and moving into a university education in self-sacrificial relationships. Hard, but so eminently worth it.
My friend Susan, Julia and so many others…
They all have far more to teach us – and we are supposedly the ones in charge.
But it’s damn nice to get that reminder once in a while.