I’m Hiking the Camino de Santiago: The Very Painful (and Personal) Backstory that Led Me to the Trail Head

CaminoI was in the middle of a staff meeting when I felt a surge of cold run up my finger tips as they struck the keys of my computer. The cold then began to pulse through my whole body. I figured it was a mean case of the flu that was kicking in, so I just told myself to press through. This had always been my response stress, overwhelm or illness; press through.
 
About 30 minutes later I realized pressing through was no longer an option. I left my office, struggled to make the 10 minute drive home and sat in my car with the heater turned on full blast as my body shook and I groaned in pain. Finally making it inside, I collapsed in bed and the symptoms continued for another hour. I felt like I was dying.
 
The next day I woke up telling myself it was just a freak run of the flu, began prepping for a board meeting and assembling 12-hours of speaking notes for a weekend retreat that I was leading and would fly out to the following day.
 
I didn’t feel great, but I boarded the plane, opened my computer to finish up my powerpoint that needed to be finished by the time the flight touched down. I’d be jumping right into two days of peacemaking training with a church leadership team and a day of Sunday sermons. But, working at 30,000 feet, I felt anything but peace. My head was starting to disassociate itself from my body. I’d drink some cold water, rub the fog out of my eyes and keep pressing through.
 
Thankfully, the pastor of the church I was working with that weekend is a dear friend and I told him I wasn’t feeling well. He was gracious and warm. I woke up the next morning to finish my speaking notes and could no long press through. I didn’t feel right and was starting to freak out. Am I dying of a blood infection? Do I have cancer? Am I on the edge of a heart attack? I made the mistake of going on WebMD.com which only fueled my fear. Hours from the start of the weekend retreat I had been flown in to facilitate, my pastor friend took me to the emergency room.
 
It seemed like they ran me through every kind of test as they struggled to identify what was going on. Finally, the doctor looked at me as said, “Your numbers all look normal. I don’t know what’s going on. Unless…have you ever struggled with anxiety or had a panic attack?”
 
And there it was. As soon as he said those words my brain connected with what my body had been experiencing and it’s as though my internal RMP’s went from redlining back to normal. Neurologically, something happened as my brain and body realized I wasn’t dying, while at the same time intuiting the source of my illness was deeper than any symptom found with an EKG.
 
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Turns out I had had adrenal failure and a panic attack that was fueled by a long season of underlying anxiety. Biologically speaking, cortisol (the body’s natural chemical released in high stress situations) had been slow dripping into my system for so long that my body became familiar with it. Further, I had been running off adrenaline for so long to keep up with life’s responsibilities that I simply ran out.
 
Over the next six months, it took all my strength and focus to accomplish the most basic tasks of work, family and life. For a guy who had never once considered himself lacking in capacity, this was deeply disorienting. Trying to explain it to co-workers and loved ones who couldn’t understand sometimes made it even worse (although they were 100% in my corner). I was finally forced to prioritize my own health as I went back to therapy, doubled down on my commitment to meeting with a spiritual director and exercised everyday.
 
As my late Spiritual Director, Paul Rhoads, told me, “Jon, I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but this is all a gift. You could have kept going for 15 more years before you had this kind of opportunity to reevaluate your life. You’ve been given back 15 years of being fully present to yourself, your family and your community because of the journey toward healing you are now on.” He was right, it didn’t feel like a gift at all. It felt like weakness. It felt like vulnerability. It felt like confusion. It felt like failure.
 
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As I excavated my own story, it was as though I was going from one way of living and seeing the world in the shallow end of the pool to a deep dive into the ocean’s holy darkness and sacred depths. Things that had mattered so much to me suddenly mattered very little. Things that I hadn’t had the eyes or time to see suddenly became the focus of my path. Life went from black and white to a 3D constellation of color and light.
 
Simple realizations around the toxicity of the ego-driven economy of USAmerican Christianity that had constantly been begging for my fidelity.
 
Complex realizations involving secondary trauma that had been acquired on a molecular level from exposure and relational proximity to pain, conflict and violence.
 
Spiritual realizations like awakening and embracing a God who is much more associated with holy mystery than static orthodoxy.
 
Personal realizations that allowed me to acknowledge ways I’d prioritized efficiency and reputation over presence and authenticity.
 
I could go on and on, but in short, it felt like I was becoming human again. It was horrible and it was enlivening.
 
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About a year after things fell apart, I was offered a book contract by a publisher I deeply respect and on a topic that burns in me life fire. I had been working on the book idea and proposal with my literary agent for about two years, so when the contract came, we both shared a collective sigh of relief and surge of excitement.
 
Until something didn’t feel right.
 
I found ways to set aside my reservations for awhile, but then allowed them to enter into my conversations with Janny (my wife) and a few close friends. “Everything about this seems right, but am I just jumping back into the economy of ‘doing’ as a pseudo form of success and identity? Isn’t that what got me into this mess in the first place? Am I convincing myself to do this out of an overdose of ego or out of holy conviction?”
 
As a family, we had stated that this next season of life (outside of our work and community commitments) needed to be focused on creating space for Janny to go back to school, for me to pursue my health and for our family to learn Spanish. Writing this book didn’t accomplish any of those big three. I invited a close community of trusted friends and colleagues into the process with me to receive their honest feedback and, of course, they asked all the questions I hadn’t had the courage to ask myself. They didn’t tell me not to write the book, but they unapologetically asked me the questions that bent toward health.
 
The night before I was going to sign the contract and move toward writing the book (which, for me, is generally a very life giving process), I had some kind of dream. I don’t remember any of it, but I remember waking up with crystal clarity that I needed to walk away from the contact. So I did.
 
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Even though I probably wouldn’t have admitted it, I had lived so long associating success and “faithfulness” with production (the Evangelicalism that I inherited has a corner on the market for this twisted economy) that to say “no” to something like this was new territory…and it was wildly liberating. To say “no” to the very thing I love to do, but could also be a cheap substitute for the more important journey toward personal wholeness was invigorating. In a culture that often celebrates platform, smart thoughts (even if they are completely disembodied from everyday life) and sales numbers, this journey was going to take me in a different direction.
 
It’s much harder for me to choose to simply be present to what’s right in front of me than to be distracted by the never ending “to-do” list that I should be tending to. To sit on the floor and play with my kiddos without thinking about work, checking my phone or seeing them as a chore. To sit in silence and stillness for a few minutes before opening my computer to tackle the days work. To say NO to stuff that is really good, but not mine to do. To have the margin in my life that allows for “holy interruptions” rather than “annoying distractions.”
 
Like my Spiritual Director said, this season has proven to be an incredible gift. A gift I wouldn’t give back for the world. I gift I plan to keep on opening, exploring and sharing.
 
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My book manuscript would have been due October 1st (yesterday). As soon as I turned down the contract, Janny said to me, “You’ve always wanted to walk the Camino de Santiago. Now that you won’t be using your time and energy scrambling to hit that book deadline, why don’t you go? It will be a physical journey symbolic of the journey you are on in your own life.”
 
She’s a remarkable woman. Really. Like, I can’t imagine any spouse with four little kids ever uttering those words. But she did, and despite my initial hesitation, I went for it.
 
A pilgrimage is not about the destination; it’s about the transformation along the way. Kinda like life. This pilgrimage is one of three sacred to those of us in the Christian tradition. The other two are Rome and Jerusalem, both of which I’ve been to multiple times. This pilgrimage will be different though. I’m the same person, but in a much different season and view of life.
 
I’m walking with Saint Francis who walked this path hundreds of years ago. He was a saint who embodied so much of what I now hold in high esteem; love, compassion, tenderness, simplicity and peace.
 
I’m walking with Paul Rhoads, my Spiritual Director who navigated these past few years with me as I unraveled so much of my story. He tragically died two months ago and I wondered if I should even go on the Camino without his guidance. Now, I’m trusting he gave to me all the guidance I need. He gave me all he had and now it’s my turn to live into it.
 
I’m walking with an open ear for the Spirit to speak (or guide) through fellow pilgrims, the creatures on the trail, the rhythm of my boots or the wanderings of my mind and soul.
 
I’m walking with my family who sends me to continue on my journey of becoming. As I type this, I’m home alone with the kiddos as Janny is in Canada for a school intensive. I hope they will see their parents commitment to continually growing and expanding as part of a living, breathing faith rather than one that becomes static with time and toil. I want to live the kind of life I’d hope for them to live someday.
 
I’m walking with all my beauty and all my brokenness. No doubt the residue of past hurt, trauma and disappointment will surface along the way. I want to be open to it, listen long and explore a way through it. No doubt the beautiful will also rise and fuel each stride as I think of all who have gone before to create these moments of introspection.
 
So, I fly out on Saturday. Just me, my backpack and a journal.
 
See you later and Buen Camino!

A Plea to Moderate Christian Leaders and Pastors

I’m sure many of you are losing sleep trying discern how to navigate these unprecedented times in our country. Our President has ushered in a level of public rhetoric that is vitriolic and hateful. Any argument for moral leadership has been lost and the cascading impact of his words are catalyzing a frenzy of support leading to public chants that are antithetical to the gospel (not to mention the values of the United States). History tells us that this kind of language normalized by those representing a diverse population leads to destructive ends…especially to minorities and the most vulnerable.

And, in the midst of it all, you may have elder boards, congregants and donors who are likely more committed to partisan fidelity than fidelity to the Kingdom inaugurated and embodied in Jesus. The stakes are high. Which is why how we lead in this moment is so critical…not to our partisan politics, but our collective witness as the Church. 

I’ve met, led alongside and taught in your pulpits and lecture halls for most of my adult life. You’ve resonated with and celebrated a message I often share about the need to disciple our communities toward an unwavering allegiance to the Kingdom of God (and it’s values) above and beyond any kind of allegiance to our nation-state. And also to take seriously our responsibility to leverage our citizenship in the United States on behalf of those on the underside of power. We must embrace a conflicted allegiance.

It’s one thing to agree with this message, it’s a whole other to live into it with our actions and words. 

What is our invitation in this moment? 

I’m not inviting you to be partisan, but I am inviting you to be political. The Greek word “polis” can simply be defined as “the ordering of society.” Jesus was NOT partisan, but everything about his teachings, life, death and resurrection was political. It was about ordering society in light of the Kingdom of God. A kingdom where the first will be last and the last first. Where there are no longer lines of exclusion based on religiosity. Where one’s hope isn’t found in the empire/nation-state, but in the resurrected Jesus. Our country is becoming increasing dis-ordered and we can’t collectively stick our heads in the sand to appease elder boards, donors or family members. 

The term “Christian” in the United States has been compromised by pseudo leaders hungry for power propagating a campaign of fear. We need to stop inviting our congregants to be this kind of “Christian” and invite them to follow Jesus. 

What does that look like? 

  1. An uncompromised allegiance to the kingdom of God. Not a partisan politic. 
  2. Lives that reflect the Fruit of the Spirit (love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self control)

Few things can intoxicate and inoculate Christians like partisan politics driven by fear and a hunger for power. It’s time to disciple our communities in the way of Jesus over and beyond the ways they are discipled nightly by Fox News and MSNBC. It’s time to give your community footholds for navigating this complex and costly moment. It’s time we liberate our collective energies for the work of seeking justice, caring for the vulnerable, walking humbling before God (and neighbor) and participating in God’s mission of restoration. 

While this is a critical moment of retaining our faithful witness in the face of hatred, it is not unique to the history of the Church. Whether the early church in Rome, the radical reformers of the 16th century, the church in Nazi Germany (think Bonhoeffer) or the church standing against racism with Dr. King in the civil rights era, we have worthy shoulders to stand on as tangible guides. 

With the prophets of old, we pray, “Wake up, O Sleeper!” “Rise up! Rise up!” (Isaiah 51/52)

You are leaders. We are in it together. It’s time we lead as part of an alternative economy. An economy outlined on a hill overlooking the Sea of Galilee and embodied on a cross at the hands of a compromised, nationalistic religion. 

This isn’t the end. In fact, it’s likely just the beginning. We can’t be silent. We can’t be held captive to success metrics of attendance and funding. May we have the hard conversations with those of influence. May we stand with our neighbors on the receiving end of the rhetoric. May we create environments where dissent isn’t demonized, but learned from and listened to. May we leverage the influence we’ve been given for the benefit of the vulnerable. May we transcend the toxic binaries of “left” and “right.” May we follow the Jesus we talk about and invite our communities to do the same. 

We don’t need to all agree on every policy, but I pray we can agree on our shared hope and give everything we’ve got to make it real in our conflicted world. 

Your voice matters. Your actions matter. Your leadership matters. 

Let’s get to it together. 

 

 

 

Getting Personal: From DOING to BEING

sunset

I’ve been taking some really tangible steps in my own personal journey toward becoming a Human-BEING rather than a Human-DOING. For me, and how I’ve been created (and conditioned), doing less and being more is really, REALLY hard.

It’s easy for me to default to task lists and self-imposed to-do’s. At its best, it’s a function of deep conviction and meaningful contribution. At its worst, it’s a function of deep brokenness and misplaced identity.

It’s much harder for me to choose to simply be present to what’s right in front of me. To sit on the floor and play with my kiddos without thinking about work, checking my phone or seeing them as a chore. To sit in silence and stillness for a few minutes before opening my computer to tackle the to-do’s. To say NO to stuff that is really good, but not mine to do. To have the margin in my life that allows for “holy interruptions” rather than “annoying distractions.”

Last week, I said no to an opportunity I can’t fathom saying no to 10 years ago (or even 5 years ago!). An opportunity I could have only dreamed of back then. It was hard. It took discernment. It took listening to really honest feedback from my closest community. It took swallowing my pride and listening to the Spirit. It took a new kind of trust that the most important work I can do is not fixing the world “out there,” but deep diving into the beauty and brokenness in me.

Today, I sit in our local coffee shop with a big, goofy smile on my face. And for no other reason than I’m grateful to be alive. I’m grateful for the random friends who walk through these doors…who over many years have become my “office-mates.” I’m grateful to have the opportunity to work at a reasonable pace rather than an impossible one. I’m grateful my shoulders are less tense and my mind at ease.

Moving from DOING to BEING will be a life long journey for me, but the more I’m stumble toward it, the more the goodness of life turns 3D. A goodness that has always been here, but I often haven’t had the eyes (or time) to see. There is color, joy, pain, tears and hope.

That’s some pretty personal stuff, friends. But, maybe, some of you can relate and find hope in this journey too. Or not. Either way, it’s mine and I’m grateful to be on it.

 

When the Bible Gets in the Way of Following Jesus

My last post on the Migrant Caravan really struck a cord. As the story continues to unfold, I’m going to pose a challenging theological question with really tangible implications for how we show up in this moment (specifically related to the migrant caravan).

1. The Context

The migrant caravan is made up primarily of people with deep Christian convictions and tradition. As they move north, they are holding vigil, praying for God’s guidance, protection and ultimate liberation. Momma’s are pushing strollers as they pray for their children’s future and pleading with God to deliver them toward safety and new life.

Here in the US, many people with deep Christian convictions and tradition are praying for the migrant caravan to turn around (at best) or violently resisted/restrained (at worst). Parents are fearful that this caravan could threaten the safety and future of their children and are pleading with God to protect them from the “invading enemy.”

2. The Question

How and where does God act in a moment like this? Whose prayers are “heard”? I trust that all the concerns raised by both groups are real to them (although, in some cases, I’d disagree on their objective reality). All are praying with ferver for God to “show up.” One group for safety. Another for liberation.

3. The Reflection

I’m convinced one of the greatest obstacles to following Jesus in the United States is HOW we read the Bible. Namely, how we often read ourselves (specifically dominant culture USAmericans) into the story as the “favored protagonist” who has a corner on the market of God’s blessing.

Some thoughts…

The Bible is the story of an occupied and oppressed people trusting that God will guide them toward liberation. The main characters who modeled faithfulness most often were those OUTSIDE of power. Many of us have been taught (albeit subconsciously) to read ourselves into the biblical story as the protagonist when in reality – whether we like it or not – we have more in common with the antagonist. We live in one of the most powerful and wealthy countries in human history. We don’t need to be ashamed of that, but we do need to be honest about it. And, if we are honest, we have more in common with Pharaoh than with Moses. With Pilot than with Jesus. With those on the side of Empire extinguishing the good news of the Kingdom. As my friend Tony Campolo says, “We may live in the best Babylon in the world, but it’s still Babylon.”

We mis-read the Story when we use the Bible as a tool to support our retaining and maintaining of power when the reality is that it is a Story of God working among oppressed people to distrupt and dismantle oppressive power. We mis-read the Story when we read the text to justify and support systems that maintain the status quo (comfort, power and privilege) when the reality is that the Bible is the Story of God subverting power (economic, political, racial, patriarchal, social, etc). God didn’t give up on those in power, but DID require they repent of their addiction to it and seek their own liberation.

Tangibly, this incomplete reading allows us to interpret our world as though God is with “us” and “they” are the ones who are coming as a threat (in this case, migrants, refugees or asylum seekers), when in reality it was among those communities where God was seeking to deliver all of us in bondage to systems and structures that oppress. Maybe those in the migrant caravan are coming to deliver us back to God in the way Moses delivered Egypt (although painfully) from their addiction to power, safety and comfort. Maybe we are being delivered from our addiction to safety that frees us to be faithful. Maybe we are being delivered from a mentality of scarcity to a celebration of abundance.

Jesus message was good news to those on the underside of power. The captives, the oppressed, the hurting, the diseased. It wasn’t good news for the systems and structures that oppressed them. But it was good news to the oppressor. It was liberating for EVERYONE if only they had eyes to see and ears to hear.

For many of us, it’s going to take a long, confessional journey to read the Bible through the lens of its orginal context and community, but it is a journey worth taking. It will require people like me to listen, learn and be mentored by people around the world (and on our streets) who are faithfully following God on the underside of empire. Our sisters and brothers who aren’t in the halls of power, politics and religious beaurocracy. Those who have been beaten down, displaced and enslaved. We are being invited to new life. To have our sight healed and our wounds repaired so we stop spreading our disease and start spreading the good news.

If this requires a confession booth, I’ll be the first in line.

A Few Thoughts on the Migrant Caravan

A couple thoughts on the Migrant Caravan moving through Central American and Mexico toward our border…
  1. My heart is heavy and saddened as I watch so many compassionate people talk about this group of human beings in such dehumanizing ways. I understand the fear. Of course we need to protect our children. I get that we have limited resources. Yes, migrants have to enter the country legally. I just don’t think these concerns are near as connected to this migrant caravan as they are to our collective enslavement to fear and misinformation. Rather than be moved by a commitment to understand and care for the “least and the last” we are being stirred into a frenzy of self-protection that is compromising our collective soul. It’s sad. But we can be healed. 
  2. Many of you may remember the last Migrant Caravan that got alot of news a couple years ago. I was there in Tijuana to welcome them when they stepped off the bus. Who did I meet? Exhausted and scared grandma’s, momma’s, daddy’s, babies and young kids traveling alone holding out a sliver of hope that they might have a future worth living for. This wasn’t a community of people that WANTED to flee their countries…they had no choice. No one would want to go on the journey they are on. Months of jumping on buses, trains, walking with kids on their back, corrupt police and gangs exploiting their vulnerability. 80% of women who go on this journey are sexually exploited in some way. As to this caravan, if women know they can travel with the protection of a group, of course, they are going to do that. THEY ARE NOT COMING TO TAKE AWAY THE AMERICAN DREAM. They are simply trying to have a chance at life. 
  3. Some might say, “But they should come legally!” Yes, they should. And they are. They are coming to our southern border to walk through the port of entry and seek asylum. That is NOT ILLEGAL, but a central function to the core values of the United States. Now, there are always some who are so desperate (and often misguided by organized crime) that they try to cross the border illegally. Whether some in this caravan choose to do that, I have no idea, but having sat with migrants considering an illegal crossing, I can assure you it is not something they want to do…it is pure desperation. 
  4. If we are going to engage with this crisis with any kind of integrity and humanity (not to mention faith convictions that require us to care for the foreigner/stranger), we have to ask WHY they are migrating in the first place. What is it they are running from? What could be so bad that they are literally having to choose which children to take and which to leave behind? I’ve talked to mothers of multiple children who had to flee violence in Central American and were forced to CHOOSE which kids could actually make the journey and which couldn’t. They knew this was their ONLY chance of survival and hoped to one day send for the ones they had to leave behind. The level of despair and heartbreak in their eyes is indescribable. A simple study of the history of Central America will not only give us hints as to what these people are fleeing, it will point a finger back at ourselves as participants in the destabilization of the region back in the 1980’s. Violence and economic desperation don’t come out of nothing. We have to become students who ask the story behind the story behind the story. The fact that our administration is threatening these countries by taking away funding is short sighted and will only perpetuate the instability. 
  5. No number of talking points will change our hearts and minds. We have to get close to those in crisis. We need to be in proximity. We need to share tables and stories. And, in a country filled with immigrants, we can. We just have to choose love over fear and curiosity over critique. Let’s allow relationship to lead the way and the Spirit to guide our steps. For those of us who follow Jesus, let’s remember that he didn’t call us to be safe, he called us to be faithful. Now is our time.