In most churches, in most families, "this" doesn't happen.....

Our church has been trying to figure out the word "family." People were using the word to describe their experience of our church, but not everyone shared it's meaning.

Family is.... Love. Disfunction. Pain. Painful memories. Joy. A dad who kills dreams. Divorce. Shame. Hope. Safety.

What family means varies depending on who you are talking to.

I took "Sociology of Family" in university. That was a trip. We arrived at a definition in that class, only because we had to, and it was one of those lowest common denominator things.. so loosely defined. Something like, a group of people who live together and are connected in some way to each other. It was a pretty lame definition.

To me, family is at the least, a group of people you are legally connected to by genetics or contractual agreement. The rest...  is an open playing field.

Being family determines THAT you are connected, but not HOW. To me, how is everything.

I have spent my whole life in both a family as well as a church.  For some reason, I go a little crazy about families and churches. But really, the thing is all about the quality of the connection. Connection is everything.

I remember hearing the phrase "you need to control your kids!" Now that I have kids, I think that is the worst possible thing I could ever try to do. Ok, not worst.. but it's one of those things that seems good at the time, but control kills connection. It kills heart.

I'm writing.. deleting.. writing.. deleting.. because I don't want to kill connection.

I'm sad that churches are full of people that feel they can't be real. I'm sad that families are full of members that hide their stories from each other because they believe if they expose their weaknesses, they will be shamed, shot down, and belittled. I'm sad that pastors rely on cute internet stories instead of real and personal ones they've lived themselves because they view vulnerability as weakness instead of a weapon to use on the real enemy - an enemy called shame, an enemy that tells people they struggle alone and that something is wrong with them.


Last week, I stood in front of my church and bawled my eyes out sharing my pain about how I don't think our church is such a wonderful family.  How we treat people who make mistakes. How we don't talk about painful realities. How we say "fine" every Sunday week after week, year after year, and in that process all become liars. How fake we are to each other. How we cut each other off in our hearts after we have been hurt or offended by some circumstance or event. And about my own family. My son who has autism. The pain our family feels as we try to fit in, we try to be normal, we try to... but we don't. We explode all over the place.

(As an aside, I am proud of my tears. I am always surprised when someone hands me a kleenex as soon as they see tears begin to run down my face. Snot, sure. Give me some tissue. But tears? Let them be! I don't need to hide them. I don't want to hide them.. most of the time. I think authenticity is beautiful, powerful, even inspiring. There has got to be a great song about tears. Someone write one.)

Families and churches all function in some level of disfunction. Some of us are knee deep. Some of us are in over our heads. Vulnerability is the only way out.

I'm reading this book by Ed Catmull called "Creativity, Inc." He's the PIXAR guy. He needed to create a culture where, in order to make great films, creative people could be free to take risks and explore. He didn't want them to play it safe. He also needed to have very different groups of creatives work in teams in order to make PIXAR films. Groups of people being creative can be... deadly (discouraging.. dream killing.. deflating...you get it?). He created something called "BRAINTRUST." In this BRAINTRUST session, by my recollection, directors, writers and others would come together to hear what someone was working on.  Everyone needed to feel free to say what they truly thought. Everyone who was presenting their ideas, needed to feel valued and respected. Trust had to be in the room. No one could let intimidation silence them. No idea was too wacky. It had to be ok so put stuff out there. Ed created guidelines and built a culture that had nothing to do with power or position, still had checks and balances, and allowed for insightful, helpful, even painful feedback. People in the group had to learn how to communicate, how to comment, how to ask questions, and how to give feedback. Presenters had to learn that they are not their work, they are not their idea, they are not their story. The end result is a group of  people who were empowered to do better together than they could have on their own.

I wish church was like that. I wish families were like that. A culture of connection. Vulnerability. Truth telling. Open to hearing.

This week, four women from my church came to clean my house. Wow, was that vulnerable. I forgot to them not to fold our laundry. Too late. They've seen it all now. I almost feel sick about it. But at the same time, now they know. If they want to reject us, ok. But what if, what if they accept us, after they have seen our dirt? And what if having seen behind the scenes of us, they decide to love us, even like us. What does that do the the connection between our hearts?

In most churches, in most families, vulnerability doesn't happen.

Why not? I wish it would.