Blog

By Pastor John Hulden

It’s the middle of summer. Have you been to a lake yet?

Looking back on my just completed two weeks of vacation, water played an important role in my time away. At an Airbnb in Detroit Lakes, there was swimming and a pontoon ride, as well as a bike ride around Lake Detroit most every morning. In Moorhead — besides eating a dilly bar at the best DQ in the world — I did more biking up and down the bike paths along the mighty Red River of the North. Then I took the train to northwestern Montana to spend a week with my Mom at our little lake place next to a crystal-clear lake. Nothing beats jumping into a cold mountain lake after a sauna!

“The green spaces around Bde Maka Ska on that warm, beautiful day last week were full of folks BBQing, laughing, lounging, and playing volleyball, soccer, and frisbee.”

Back in Minnesota on the Fourth of July, we visited friends who live near Bde Maka Ska in South Minneapolis. The green spaces around Bde Maka Ska on that warm, beautiful day last week were full of folks BBQing, laughing, lounging, and playing volleyball, soccer, and frisbee. In the water were swimmers, waders, splashers, and too many floatation devices to count. Along with our grandson, we even got to see a turtle waddle into the water next to one of the swimming beaches.

I’ve been thinking and thanking ever since about public spaces.

WHILE DETROIT LAKES has a great public beach (across the road from Zorbaz), the rest of the shoreline is prime real estate. Most of the small fishing cabins have been torn down and replaced long ago with massive year-round “cabins.” It reminded me of Lake Minnetonka.

In Moorhead, where we lived for 16 years before moving 11 years ago to the other edge of Minnesota, the city’s leaders are contemplating a re-do of their downtown along the Red River. The citizens of Moorhead voted for a tax increase (!) to help re-think and re-frame their 1970 era downtown that is bookended by two public parks.

“I’m grateful for the forward-thinking, inclusive-minded leaders from years ago that argued and fought successfully for public access to the lakes in their cities.”

At that Montana lake I adore, we look across to a public campground. But there too, most of the small fishing cabins have been replaced by cabin-mansions. One of the property owners used prime lake shore for their tennis court — where I’ve never seen anyone with a racket and a tennis ball.

When I think of the Land of 10,000 Lakes, I’m grateful for the forward-thinking, inclusive-minded leaders in Minneapolis and Saint Paul from years ago that argued and fought successfully for public access to the lakes in their cities.

It made me wonder as I biked around a lake, and along a river, for what should I argue and fight? Is there an issue, a problem, an opportunity that might not benefit me today, but instead provide a clean, public space so generations to come can laugh, swim, eat, and play?

By Jack Hurbanis

After years of dreaming about it, earlier this year in March I made the decision to accept an offer from Mitchell Hamline Law School and begin my time as a law student this fall.

This idea started during my senior year of high school when, as a part of my government class, attorneys from the Hennepin County Attorney’s Office came into our class for a week and led us through a mock trial. I volunteered to be the lead defense attorney after no one else raised their hand. I spent the week learning from practicing lawyers about what it looks like to defend someone in court. On Friday, we began our court proceedings with the lawyers acting as the judge and in the end, I successfully convinced a jury of my peers that my client was innocent.

The defense team, including me, won the automatic A grade promised to whichever team secured their desired verdict. The bell rang and I went to move onto my next class but before I could, the two lawyers pulled me aside and told me to “consider law school one day”.

“I wasn’t prepared for the single question I have gotten from 90% of people when I tell them I’m going to law school.”

Fast forward seven years and I was beginning to tell friends and family that the idea I had been considering outloud and in my head was becoming a reality. What I wasn’t prepared for was the single question I have gotten from 90% of people when I tell them: “Law school, I hear that’s tough. Are you worried?,” with a tone that I’ve just told them that I’m entering the NFL draft having ended my last football experience in 5th grade — eight days after practices started.

For the most part my answer has been, “Kinda, but not as worried as I thought I was going to be.” My career has included time spent as a community organizer, political campaign manager, country club line cook, film school student, large event planner, and bagel shop cashier — and I’m hoping each one of those stops along the way will make this next one just a little bit easier.

So, thank you to every person I have gotten work with since I started as the Congregational Organizer for Environmental Justice for the Minneapolis Area Synod of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (I don’t get to use my absurdly long job title for much longer, so I am trying to get as much use in as possible) because you have helped prepare me for my next step.

By Maya Bryant

Yesterday, while deep cleaning my car to get ready to sell it, I heard high-pitched chirping coming from nearby. I chose to ignore it until it got so irritable that I dropped my towel and Windex bottle to find the source.  

Near my right front wheel was a baby robin, barely old enough to fly, screeching at me. It looked like it had fallen from the nest and hurt its neck. Its head was at a weird angle, and its legs didn’t move when it tried to walk. I was upset, of course, but there was no way I could kill this poor creature even though I knew it would probably not recover from paralysis.  

“While I worked the baby robin would try fruitlessly to fly away, stumbling around on the sidewalk and into the grass.”

So, I put on some rubber gloves and moved it out of the street, which somehow caused even more shrieking until I gently set it down by my front step. It stared at me in shock and tried to fly away, but it couldn’t. I sat with it until it fell asleep and went back to work.  

While I worked the baby robin would try fruitlessly to fly away, stumbling around on the sidewalk and into the grass. Eventually, it stopped trying. Eventually, it died.  

IT’S A SEEMINGLY irrelevant story about a life ending after barely beginning. And maybe it is. But I can see many things in those short hours with that baby bird. So many metaphors and anecdotes, so many parables and hymns. 

But all I could think at the time was, “How sad. It never got to fly.” And this was Juneteenth, no less – a day celebrating the actual freedom of all enslaved Black Americans.  

The freedom to go where you wanted and do what you pleased whenever you wanted to would be a wonderful aspiration. How nice it would’ve been to see that baby robin fly. But some robins never get to. Some robins end up like this one, with fear and death, as is nature. Nature is not “nice;” it is honest and soul-bearing, but it is not “nice.”  

“But some robins never get to fly.”

From author and science professor Isaac Asimov: “Life is pleasant. Death is peaceful. It’s the transition that’s troublesome.” 

Death is as natural as life. Everything that begins, naturally, must come to an end. What is unnatural is trying to stop them from coexisting. Our time is limited, and we must cherish it when we have it.  

And so, life continues, or doesn’t, in whichever direction it takes us. I’ll leave you with that.  

A window

By Bob Hulteen

I have a long-time friend named Larry Kiewel.

I finally met Larry in person a couple months ago.

For about 15 years, Larry was an acquaintance at a distance who was always just an email away. We first got in touch when I was editor of the Metro Lutheran. Larry would occasionally respond to an editorial I penned or a news story that I included. He seemed to appear as an email in my Inbox just when I needed … either to offer support on something controversial or to challenge me to think more broadly or take a deeper dive on a piece that really just skimmed the surface of a topic.

We would sometimes write back and forth a few times a month. Sometimes we would go months without contact. It was an electronic friendship; we knew each other just by virtual Windows (I’m now accepting my fate as a PC user).

Well, that’s not totally true. Along the way we found out that my family sold our flock of sheep to his college roommate’s family … in 1963. There were other ways our shadows may have crossed over the years. But, we never met in person.

Do you have a friend who opens windows for you to other perspectives, whether actual neighbors or neighbors from afar?

WELL, WE FINALLY MET a couple months back. Larry and his wife have moved off the farm and now live in St. Peter. We got together for coffee at a favorite haunt of his, not too far from Gustavus Adolphus College. I arrived first; were any of those already there Larry? It’s always awkward when trying to meet an unknown person in a popular spot.

When he did arrive, we immediately started talking. And we talked. And we shared poetry – Larry shared his, I shared my dad’s. We talked faith communities, and theology, and sheep, and farming, and writing, and children, and cancer and COVID, and, … and, … and.

“Our similar lives – including all the divergences – just meant that there was depth to mine and angles of vision to share.”

What a gift to have met a friend. I suppose it could have gone badly. Maybe the computers could have been a buffer that created comfortability that wouldn’t be there IRL. (Do people still use that phrase for “in real life”?) But, our similar lives – including all the divergences – just meant that there was depth to mine and angles of vision to share. Our shared hope that the divide between urban and rural communities could be healed provides a strong grounding.

I still love getting emails from Larry. They brighten my day. He is a gifted writer/poet; his turns of phrase make me sit back in my chair to think, to contemplate – something I don’t do frequently enough, I suspect.

With his permission, I am going to share a poem he recently shared with me, written for his brother and cousins in a monthly letter he sends to them. I hope you like it as much as I did/do:

I Have a Window

It is required that a poet have a window.
What a wonderful metaphor.
It separates me on the inside
From a world on the outside.
I see the school bus and the garbage truck.
I see the woman two houses down
receive her E-bay bounty from
UPS and Fed-Ex and even Speedi Delivery.
I see baseball, football, and volleyball
all in their season.
I know all the neighborhood dogs
and the schedule of their particular owners.
All of this, while I sit
quiet and warm on the inside.
Perhaps a window is the definition
of being a poet.
Separated from other worlds
the poet gives a view.
Sometimes of the inside
Sometimes of the outside.
I, the poet, have a window
on being a window.

By Pastor John Hulden

I witnessed two baptisms last Sunday. Thanks to Edina Community and Oak Grove Lutheran churches for the privilege of joining you in welcoming two adorable babies, Isaac and Gordon, to “the body of Christ and the mission we share.”

Water and the Word: Promises are made by parents and by sponsors and by the church family; and a bigger promise from God. Baptism is simple and deep. Water is life: It sustains and washes us. Water is death: Our sinful self is drowned. Water and the Word is death into life: We rise up out of the water to a new life in Christ.

“We got simple, … and simple made us go deep.”

Throughout the millennia human beings have walked on this little blue ball spinning around the minor star we call the sun, humans have only settled down and stayed where there was water. After humans found community with one another near the water, most every tribe and nation made some sort of bread for sustenance and some sort of wine for celebration. No wonder Jesus started us with two simple sacraments, … with stuff that is readily available whenever we get together. Keep it simple.

The Minneapolis Star newspaper in 1938 was one of the first, if not the first, to publish a story on K.I.S.S.: “Keep it short and simple.” (Thanks, Wikipedia.) Although I don’t know about you, I always heard it as “Keep it Simple Stupid” — probably from my dad. The KISS principle has been an effective design tool for quite some time.

Does the KISS principle apply to what we do as church? As followers of Jesus?

WE CAN EXPERIENCE the joy of a baptism, the deep meaning of going up with empty hands to receive the bread and wine, … and, at the same time, worry about lower attendance numbers and church budgets fraught with unknowns. When I was a kid, my parents — and my friends’ parents — didn’t have many societal options on Sunday mornings, … or Wednesday evenings, either. Today when folks show up at worship, they might be turning down a myriad of other events tugging at their calendars and to-do lists. Yet folks still show up to church for splashing water, breaking bread, and wine poured … for you and me.

“The KISS principle has been an effective design tool for quite some time.”

Perhaps keeping it simple is a way forward.

These last two years Nick Tangen, Maya Bryant, and I have been walking with leaders of a dozen congregations as we learn together what it means to work on Faith Practices and Neighboring Practices (FPNP). As leaders, we started out a little too complicated. … Then we got simple, … and simple made us go deep. KISS.

AS SOME OF YOU might know, I love reading church newsletters. Here are some excerpts from three church newsletters. Pastors in Faith Practices and Neighboring Practices (FPNP) wrote about what they were learning, … keeping it simple.

Pastor Jason Wahlstrom, Holy Nativity Lutheran, New Hope (July 2022)

“Our team has been hard at work learning new faith practices and ways that we can better connect with our neighbors. This summer we are engaging in a summer listening campaign, a way that we can listen to our neighbors and get to know them better. We have chosen the families in our Holy Nativity Christian Child Care Center as a group we would like to know better. One of the things we have had to wrap our minds around, however, is that we are doing this simply for the sake of knowing our neighbors better. There is no ulterior motive. We are not asking anything of those we are listening to. We have no expectations. We simply desire to know them better. At first, this seemed kind of confusing, as simple as it sounds. This is because we have been trained to believe that any “program” of the church should have a purpose. It should have goals. We should be able to measure success. That is not the case for this effort, and it has been hard for us to let go of those old ideas.

“For so long, the church has believed that success or failure could be measured. This has usually been done by measuring average weekly worship attendance. For whatever reason, that number was the be all and end all of success or failure. I believe that can no longer be the sole measurement tool when it comes to success of the church. The relationships we build with each other and with our neighbors is perhaps a much more important measurement. But perhaps we shouldn’t be measuring at all. When we focus too much of our energy on worrying about whether something was a success or whether it was worth it or not, we lose track of what is important. If we strengthened our relationship with one person, with one neighbor, then that is enough.”

Pastor Rhonda Hlavinka, Salem English Lutheran, Minneapolis (May-June 2023)

“At first, we just practiced breathing and silence — because our world is not all that conducive to either. Then we practiced lectio divina — listening to scripture and prayer of all kinds. We practiced listening, storytelling, and listening to stories. We practiced asking good questions and answering good questions. We practiced cultural competency, disrupting racism, and organizing. We practiced spiritual direction and being community. We practiced recognizing toxic charity, abundance, asset mapping, and dreaming. We practiced a lot of things. …

“I will not say that ‘practice makes perfect,’ … that’s just not true. But perfect isn’t what we are reaching for. Last Sunday the reach was to make a visitor feel welcomed and valued, … and because of all the practicing this community has done, you did it masterfully.

“We are going to be doing some practicing together in the months ahead. … [A]nd if some of it feels counter-cultural, I assure you it is. But it is also good. These practices are all based in exactly what I saw happen on Sunday in church, … being present, paying attention, listening, holding space, and welcoming.

“Practice has made you great at community and welcome. I look forward to practicing more of this with you.”

Pastor Ryan Fletcher, Christ Memorial Lutheran, Plymouth (May 2023)

“Over the past two years, a team of leaders at Christ Memorial has been learning about listening to the Spirit through the synods Faith Practices and Neighboring Practices program. My hope and expectation is that we will continue to use these practices in the years ahead. Finding ways to listen more deeply to one another and to our neighbors allows the Spirit to build up and renew our community. …. Nick Tangen offers three simple questions that church communities can begin to use not only in planning meetings but also in simple conversations with community members new and old. These are the questions:

1. What are a few things you do well enough that you could teach someone else?
2. What are some things you want to learn that you don’t know about now?
3. Is there anyone else in the community whose gifts you really appreciate?

“Notice the intention behind each of these questions. The first question identifies a person’s gifts. The second question invites curiosity and the possibility of connecting people to the gifts of the community in the future. The third question helps name people to connect with for follow-up conversations and further listening. …

“Our time in the FPNP program is coming to an end, but these life-giving practices of listening to the Spirit speak through the community have only just begun.”

By Pastor Norma Malfatti

“Take a break …
Run away with us for the summer.
Let’s go upstate …
There’s a lake I know
In a nearby park.”
                   –Eliza to Alexander Hamilton in Hamilton: An American Musical

This snippet from Hamilton has been running through my head “non-stop” (pun intended) for the last week. I’m scheduled to take a sabbatical this summer and I cannot tell if this song is on mental repeat because the time is drawing near or if I’m just being reminded that breaks are good things. If I’m honest, it’s probably a little of both.

Growing up, I was always fascinated with God’s decision to rest after creating things for six days. What did God do when resting? Wasn’t God needed in caring for creation? If God was supposed to love us all the time and always hear and answer our prayers, what happened when God was resting?

“For God in the creation story, it seems that rest was not a pause for the sake of doing nothing but a time of reflection, gratitude, and blessing.”

My young mind could already see the contradictions in Scripture wanting to poke at them. I took seriously what my Sunday School teachers, pastors, and parents taught me – that the Bible is the source and norm of our faith. But if this were true, why did different parts of Scripture say opposite things, how was I to know which was right and which was wrong?

We know that Scripture was written by specific humans, inspired by God’s Spirit, at specific times in their lives as they sought to understand who God is. For the writer(s) of the creation story, they understood that part of who God, and what it means to create, is to rest. Genesis 2:2-4 tells us that God finished the work God had done, not completed all of the creating there was to do, but had finished the work thus far. When God rested, God blessed that day and made it holy.

IN A DISCUSSION with a friend about this, we wondered if resting was a creative act in itself or if resting was necessary for re-engaging creative work. In true Lutheran fashion we decided the answer was “yes.” For God in the creation story, it seems that rest was not a pause for the sake of doing nothing but a time of reflection, gratitude, and blessing. The rest was fertile ground for what was to come next – the ongoing and ever evolving relationship with humanity and all of creation.

“When God rested, God blessed that day and made it holy.”

So, what would it look like if we looked at rest like this? Not a moment of dropping onto the couch from exhaustion at the end of the night and flipping on mindless TV, but an opportunity to reflect and give thanks for all that was; a time to dream about what could be.

I’m not saying that your work, or mine, does not cause you to be bone-tired and that summoning up energy to reflect or dream seems out of reach. But, what if you did have that energy and space? What kind of creativity and possibilities might the Spirit stir up in you?

By Maya Bryant

Spring is often associated with rebirth, the bringing of new life after the quiet of winter. Although, I can’t help but find myself continuing to think about the ending, or death, of things. Just less than two weeks have passed since Synod Assembly ended – an event which synod staff work tirelessly for months on – and in just a blink of an eye, we’re moving on to the next one, no doubt a daunting task with the bishop’s election also at hand.  

My brother just finished his junior year at the University of Minnesota Duluth. He’s got one year left before he graduates with a degree in History. He’ll be the first man on my father’s side of the family to graduate from college. He arrived home on May 1.  

“Like spring, though, I find myself somewhere in between.”

His arrival sparked a grief in me that I did not immediately understand. It was only after I sat with it for a while that I noticed why I had these feelings; the pandemic took a lot of things from many people. One of the things it took from me was a college graduation. I never got a cap and gown, I never got to walk across the stage. I never even got to say goodbye to some of my best friends, as I went to an out-of-state college. The end of some of the best moments of my life were gone in less than 48 hours.  

But, I had to move on. I had to pick myself up and figure out how to finish my degree from home. I had to find a job that did not put me in potential harm’s way as COVID was spreading across this country. And I had to grow, to change.  

THIS WEEKEND IS ALSO the final retreat with our learning community of Faith Practices & Neighboring Practices (FPNP). The FPNP team has been grieving in their own ways: Director Nick Tangen is grumbling about (and avoiding) the sadness he obviously feels. (Nick, if you’re reading this, we all know you’re sad, it’s okay.) Pastor John Hulden, projecting excitement, always is looking forward to the next thing.  

Like spring, though, I find myself somewhere in between. I’m sad to no longer see these cohorts on a regular basis, sad that our time gliding closely alongside them is coming to an end. However, I find myself quite excited for what comes next. A new group of congregations, a different energy, and a renewed curriculum for new personalities will challenge us in new ways.  

And just like that, it will be on to the next. Our Groundswell Learning Summit is on June 3, so preparations are underway. It’s a sort of spring awakening. As one thing ends, another thing begins. (If you’re someone who has not yet participated in the cohort, and are interested in attending the Summit, please click here for information.)  

“I’m sad to no longer see these cohorts on a regular basis, sad that our time gliding closely alongside them is coming to an end. However, I find myself quite excited for what comes next.”

This learning community that we’ve been a part of for the past two years has been an utter privilege and joy, and I’m so happy that I got to meet all of the people involved. I thank every member of this community, watching them learn and grow, talking with them about their successes and failures. And to our applicants for the next cohort, a new adventure awaits you. It will be long; but I assure you, it will fly by. I hope that you will have as much fun and find as much inspiration as our previous learning community did.  

Spring has sprung, and that means we must start looking ahead. Thank God for that.  

By Bob Hulteen

In Minnesota Prince may be royalty, but in the Lutheran church the bishop is … Hmm, what is the bishop? (I’ll start an answer below.)

The 2023 Minneapolis Area Synod Assembly just concluded a day or so ago. The Rev. Dr. Otis Moss III lit up the room with his inspiring oratory, using scripture to challenge us to be healers of the breach for those who are in (literal) bondage. We debated, sometimes contentiously, real-world issues that confront us civil and ecclesial beings. We expressed concern over a budget that appears to be in a slow-burning decline. And, we ate some great food from Afro Deli, whose owner, Abdirahman Kahin, was just yesterday named national Small Business Owner of the Year.

“The election of a bishop is a call process.”

In her report to the assembly, Bishop Ann Svennungsen mentioned two important things to remember about the upcoming year:

1. Her term comes to an end next year, so we will be working on the election of a new bishop at next year’s assembly, which will be held May 2-4. (The MAS Constitution limits a bishop to two full terms.)
2. She still has goals to accomplish and responsibilities to carry out; she isn’t done yet. (Or, as she said in her best Monty Python voice, “I’m not dead yet.”)

I’ll let her say more about her goals for the next year in her upcoming blogs. But, it is good for us all to get on the same page when it comes to the duties of the bishop and the process for the election.

WHAT DOES A bishop do? What is a bishop called to do? What are her responsibilities?

Well, the Synod Constitution in S8.10 (page 21) delineates some important details about the election and role of a bishop, including the many and varied gifts and skills desired/required. A pre-requisite to being bishop, of course, is being a Minister of Word and Sacrament in the ELCA. And, the bishop of a synod is elected by the voting members at the synod assembly.

Below is just a smattering of the responsibilities (enough to make anyone reconsider wanting to accept the call to be bishop):

• Preach, teach, and administer the sacraments
• Have primary responsibility for the ministry of Word and Sacrament in synod congregations
• Providing pastoral care to pastors and deacons
• Power to ordain approved candidates
• Attest letters of call for persons called to serve congregations
• Install or designate someone else to install rostered ministers
• Interpret and advocate the mission and theology of the whole church
• Submit a report to the synod assembly about the synod’s life and work
• Advise and counsel synod-related organizations and institutions
• Administer processes for the resolution of controversies and the disciple of rostered leaders or congregations of the synod
• Serve as chief ecumenical officer of the synod
• Consult with other synodical bishops
• Foster awareness of the global Lutheran church
• Serve as president of the synod corporation
• Ensure adherence to the constitution and bylaws of the synod
• Supervise the work of the synod’s officers and staff
• Be a member of each synod committee
• Maintain synodical rosters, including informing the synod council of rostered leaders on leave from call
• Maintain records for Churchwide by informing the secretary of the ELCA about roster changes
• Provide a register of the congregations of the synod and maintain a list of lay leaders

Whew!

What do voting members (rostered and lay) need to keep in mind when thinking about a new bishop? Well, it is a call process, so the types of questions that come up when calling a pastor would also be legitimate in thinking about a bishop. What balance of skills, gifts, and interests are needed for the synod now? How do pastoral care, public engagement, theological agility, ecclesial familiarity, and administrative sensitivity fit together to meet the needs of the moment?

WHAT’S THE PROCESS for electing a bishop? Again, the Synod Constitution lays out a number of details, broadly in Section S9 (page 29), and with great specificity in Section S9.04.02 (page 31). The Synod Council will elect a Bishop Election Committee (BEC) consisting of seven members (though there is precedence for including two alternates) at its first meeting after the synod assembly previous to the election. The BEC oversees the entire nomination and election process, working in conjunction with the vice president and assembly planning committees.

The BEC prepares informational materials about the synod and the election process to be distributed to voting members of the synod at least 90 days prior to the synod assembly.

“In addition to pre-nominations by conference, there will also be a nominating ballot at synod assembly wherein other names may be added at that point.”

Each of the 12 conferences of the Minneapolis Area Synod can pre-nominate three persons at their conference assembles (that are held at least 60 days before the assembly). The vice president of the synod contacts each person nominated to determine willingness to be considered. Each candidate will provide background material that will be sent to assembly voting members 30 days before the assembly.

And, with a nod toward the last-minute machinations of the Holy Spirit, there will also be a nominating ballot at synod assembly wherein other names may be added at that point. The BEC will provide a nominations form and a process for nomination; it must include prior contact between the nominator and the nominee to ensure interest. The BEC will also follow the process provided in the Constitution concerning the election weekend itself, including informing voting members about the number of nominees on each ballot and the threshold required for an election.

IN ADDITION TO THE process of the election, the current bishop and leadership of the synod must ensure that there are sufficient funds for the transition; a plan for overlap with the current bishop; a process for hiring new staff; and opportunities for the bishop-elect to meet colleagues, ecumenical and interfaith leaders, institutional partners, and current synod council members.

The ELCA Conference of Bishops has recently written “Transition Guidelines for the Election of a Synod Bishop” to aid in planning prior to the election and in preparing the transfer of leadership duties and responsibilities. It suggests forming a transition team, much like a congregation might do between pastors. It addresses administrative concerns and staffing suggestions. It also encourages the previous bishop to clear up existing conflicts and misconduct issues before leaving the Office of the Bishop.

Well, that’s a lot of detail. So, let’s close with a joke: A bishop walks into a bar and she walks straight up to the bartender who shouts, “Hey! You can’t do that. Bishops can only move diagonally!” Maybe the most important thing is that we do move.

By Nicholas Tangen

When I was a kid, I often struggled in school. My grades rarely rose above a C average, and the end of every semester was a mad dash to complete dozens of assignments that had been lost to history or the bottom of my backpack. I survived because I was a decent test-taker and a competent writer. But my school experience, and a lot of my experience in workplace settings over the years, left me feeling like a failure – hopelessly disorganized and incompetent.  

Then, about a year ago, I was diagnosed with ADHD and an entirely new internal and external conversation became possible. I never had the external hyperactivity that so often leads to an ADHD diagnosis, so it’s no surprise that it took so long for me to get clear on what was happening with my brain and my experience trying to keep things straight.  

“Anxiety and I are old friends.”

My hyperactivity shows up as inattentiveness and an internal panoply of conversations that make it difficult to attend to the things I need or want to. Time is a mystery to me, a nebulous something that I either never have enough of or lose myself in for hours at a time. About twice a month someone calls me from the location we agreed to meet to ask if we are still meeting, the consequence of me not writing something down and convincing myself that I’ll remember it. What a cute idea. Anxiety and I are old friends, and I feel like I’m constantly reminding myself to breathe, take it easy, and to remember it’s not that bad.  

THIS PAST YEAR, I’ve been trying to get a better understanding of what it means to live with a brain that works a little bit differently in a world built for “neurotypical” brains. I wish I could say that the diagnosis solved everything, that I got the medication and counseling I need and now can function like I often feel I am expected to. But that isn’t the case.  

Instead, after years of fighting my brain, I’m allowing myself to get curious about what would happen if I worked with it and embraced the creative chaos of an ADHD mind. And, in this learning and alongside the work I am lucky to do with Faith Practices & Neighboring Practices I have found a set of ponderings, questions, and curiosities that I think the church could benefit from reflecting on.  

1. Working with an ADHD brain often means following, within reason, the sudden bursts of curiosity and yes, even distraction, with some hope that what is found along the way will contribute something beautiful to my life and work. In my experience, churches can often get stuck in a need for certainty and predictability. We want to make our commitments at the beginning of the church year and then work our plan to produce predictable results. But the Holy Spirit is not what I’d call predictable, nor are our neighborhoods and communities.

   What would it look like for congregations to allow ourselves to get creatively distracted by the ways that God is suddenly showing up in our communities? Can we hold our strategic plans loosely enough to respond to the unpredictability of the Holy Spirit? Are we able to pivot quick and chase the Holy Spirit’s activity like a dopamine hit?
    

2. I am slowly realizing that my ADHD brain can do incredibly creative and intentional work if I simply do less with more intention. Want to see someone with ADHD crumble? Come hang with me at the end of a week where I overcommitted myself, believing that my worth and success is somehow tied to how much I do and produce. That’s when my brain slams on the brakes and says, “That’s it, we’re not doing anything! Let’s try again next week.”

   Coming out of the experience of the past three years and returning to a “neurotypical” world that values production, the endless pursuit of more, and lionizes people who work themselves into exhaustion is a trip. And I think our churches are sensing how unsustainable this practice is.

What if our churches had the hard conversations about what we are going to stop doing? What if we were honest about our capacities and what actually contributes to a sense of aliveness in our communities? We’re not helping ourselves by pretending that congregational vitality always means more. In this moment in our history, I’m convinced our call is actually to do less with great love and compassion. I want to see our strategic plans begin with this question: “What are we not going to do this year?”

3. Sin boldly so grace may abound! Leaning into the reality of an ADHD brain means letting go of any fantasy of perfection.

The most consistent practice I have is starting over. For years I felt myself fighting this reality, demanding perfection and production and then punishing myself for not achieving it. Does that sound familiar? How many of our churches get stuck in the perfectionism loop?

What if leaders of our congregations asked themselves regularly how to respond graciously and compassionately when, not if, our plans fail or turn out differently than we intended? We are communities of flawed and unique human beings trying to live out the Gospel of grace in a world that demands perfection. Let’s lean in, make a mess of things in love, and laugh at ourselves knowing that God’s got us.  

“As engaged church leaders, we’re not helping ourselves by pretending that congregational vitality always means doing more.”

I’m eager to see what might happen by trying to work with my ADHD brain, rather than expecting myself to be something and someone that I’m not. I’m eager also to see our churches embrace the same. What kind of freedom and creativity might we find if we embrace who we are – not who we were, or who we think we ought to be? I mean, it will be messy and a bit chaotic, to be sure. But I have faith that we might also experience a renewed sense of vocation, creativity, and presence. I think we might also find … oh, shoot, I’m late for a meeting!