Empty Circles
Let’s play a game – you’re probably familiar with it. Would you rather…?
Would you rather sit with entrepreneurial leaders advancing innovation or sit in an empty circle of chairs embarrassed, confused, and alone?
Don’t worry, it’s not a trick question aimed at determining whether you’re introverted or extroverted, but it is helpful in determining your aptitude toward reformation. I recently attended a training event with the organization that coined the term "social entrepreneur.” Seriously. They literally invented the term that dominates the landscape of social activism and advocacy today. Anticipation excused itself and anxious nerves began to flutter as I entered the emerging space of pioneering justice. If you’ve ever experienced an event like this then you know that heavy hitters in city government, community organizing, and the non-profit sector network attend in order to plug their individual missions while attempting to cooperatively advance positive change. Then there was me. I didn’t exactly attend uninvited, but my credentials weren’t extravagant either. I was hoping to grow, train, and launch a joint initiative to make our city more empathetic.
Steam rose from hot cups of freshly poured organic, fair-trade coffee and mini-croissant breakfast sandwiches dribbled a trail of crumbs to the space created for our dialogue – a circle of multi-colored chairs. As a pastor/community organizer/advocate it’s sort of my job to network. Honestly, I typically find it awkward and uncomfortable. So, sometimes I wait to engage while pretending to check important emails or answer fake phone calls. Surefooted but self-conscious, that morning I played musical chairs with myself before settling into a lime green seat. Just before the training began I found myself sitting alone in that circle of multi-colored chairs balancing blueberry yogurt on my Moleskin. A feeling of isolation blanketed me. It would haunt me the remainder of the event.
After a few minutes of ice breaking, I discovered that I was the only spiritual leader present. I was embarrassed, ashamed, and confused but resisted the urge to get up and sneak away under false pretense. I couldn't run away despite the quickening pulse in my chest. I was the only clergy representative. I had to remain – to sit in the circle. After casting out the final demon tempting me with escape the irony of the situation settled in.
Reformation is a term typically associated with religious activity yet here I am the only faith leader sitting in a circle of change-makers. We’re pursuing reform yet I’m the only one with historical experience on my resume. Oh yeah, I’m Lutheran – sorry Pope Francis – respect. Reformation in the church is as old as the Church itself. Over the timeline of the Christian Community, local experience and global influence have shaped and formed new patterns of practice, and the birth of an entire denominational system here in America. We ferociously engage worship renovation. We demand innovation to reach those pesky millennials. We insert the IV of our reforming bloodlines into modernity attempting to transfuse the ideal of the early church. So focused on reforming our tradition we fail to see the chairs circling above like vultures. We sit in largely homogenous churches unwittingly establishing a cocoon of introspective reformation and encourage the cry of social justice to bellow out as if it can't be contained. Carefully crafting our words to passionately stir up feelings aiming to awaken hearts to the urgency of the cause. But are we as concerned with listening in the unflattering rooms, in the circle of chairs, in the long, slow-building of change?
“However uncomfortable it may be, the willingness to sit in empty circles, or feel alone in a full circle, is the fundamental mindset to reform.”
Opportunities exist in a variety of diverse circles filled with multi-colored chairs that we can not only learn from but offer insight to as well. However uncomfortable it may be, the willingness to sit in empty circles, or feel alone in a full circle, is the fundamental mindset to reform. It is a necessarily isolating experience to take part in reconstructing anything.
The bottom of the Styrofoam cup returned my anxious stare as I settled into my lime green chair. Deep breath. Darting eyes. Here we go – introduction time. Judgment time. When the elevator pitch carousel arrived at my seat I offered up the brief statement that, “we believe the Kingdom of God isn’t segregated so our churches and communities shouldn’t be either, so we pursue spiritual, racial, socioeconomic, and educational reconciliation.” My mind recoiled and I wondered if anyone saw my eyes nervously twitch.
The Social-Entrepreneur trainer strode confidently toward me. I was not so confident. He introduced himself personally and said, “I’m really interested to speak with you more these next two days and learn more about what you do. I was excited to hear your inclusion of spiritual reconciliation in your introduction. I think it’s vital for change-making but is usually excluded from the conversation.” When those words left his accented lips all of my fear, anxiety, and doubt melted away. The shame and embarrassment of being the lone clergy was replaced with the weight of representing the Church well. The spiritual perspective I brought to the circle of chairs wasn’t pitied but envied!
Over the course of the two-day event, the insight I offered was taken seriously and I was invited to multiple circles during breakout sessions. No longer was I sitting in an empty circle but engaging with full circles of diverse leaders all working together toward reforming our community. I would never have had the privilege to lend the voice of the Church had I made a run for it at the beginning. If I had given in to the temptation to slip away under the cover of coffee and croissants, the opportunity for reformation would have slipped through my fingers. I had to remain alone in the circle. In order to pursue reform, you have to sit in the circle too.
“At the heart of reform is the willingness to lend your seemingly ordinary voice to the larger conversation.”
The previous turbulence of reformation settled down to reveal my reflection in the smooth water of cooperation. Reformation can be as imposing as the perception of the prominent change-makers in your community. The intimidation of louder, recognized voices threatens to mute the quiet voice inside your gut that says, “Speak out.” At the heart of reform is the willingness to lend your seemingly ordinary voice to the larger conversation – and being ordinary is actually embodying boldness.
“Now when they saw the boldness of Peter and John, and perceived that they were uneducated, common men, they were astonished. And they recognized that they had been with Jesus.” What if reformation isn’t astonishing or complicated but habitual, rhythmic, and repetitious? Being ordinary encourages boldness because you’ve got nothing to lose. I had no reputation, status, or wealth to lose. Being bold is radical because you have everything to gain; and, in that, there is recognition that you have been with Jesus. Why? Jesus was radical not because he performed miracles and signs but because he took on the ordinary.
Take a look at the historical landscape of reform and you’ll see the greatest reformation took place under command of the most ordinary people. Being radical is actually more ordinary than you think because the definition of radical is, of or going back to the root or origin. Practice the ordinary things you’ve heard, seen, and received and you will always have the right to sit in any circle because people will recognize that you have been with Jesus.