Friday, June 5, 2015

Four Weeks Post-Op


Did you read my Facebook post about my recent trip to Dallas? How well I did? How strong I felt? My words were honest and true. But words (and situations) are not eternal. 
 
After coming home on a Saturday evening, after losing whatever adrenalin had kept me going, I slowly slid down into a funk. Monday I spent the day grouching and weeping, hating this stupid colostomy, dreading the long, long, long six months until reconnection. During that night, I ran a fever and then I understood again how my mood surely was influenced by physical realities beyond my control. 

It's the old spiral: things curving along nicely and then (whap!) things are 180 degrees from where they were.
It's the old two-steps-forward-one-step-back: things moving "forward" when (all of a sudden) things slow down, stall out, set back. 

I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Isn't this the way things always work? Isn't this the way life always goes?

I sat grumping in my recliner while my gracious husband was fixing my dinner in the kitchen and I found this quote by Ranier Rilke. "Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror." So I fiddled with photos of storm clouds and rainbows to create a meme that somehow represented how I was feeling on that moody Monday. 



Why is that so hard for me? I wonder. "Letting" things happen is really the only choice I have, isn't it? 

Sure there is the "making things happen" approach to life as well and I agree sometimes that works. But not all the time. Not inevitably. Life is a mixture, an amalgam of choice and chance, of the probable and the completely implausible. 

Life is a mixture of beauty and terror. And there is no way I can change that. 

Four weeks post-op and several days past the fever and I'm back in an upward spiral. I'm stronger, I'm optimistic, I'm mostly patient with the inconveniences of my current life. And I'm realistic - I know I will spiral back down soon enough; it's inevitable. But realism reminds me that I also will spiral back up; reality teaches me that there are always rainbows somewhere or another in every storm cloud. Both things are true, real and dependable. 

I am making good health happen in plenty of ways, making choices that contribute to my healing. But at the same time, I am aware of the mystery of this amazing body of mine - that healing is what it is created to do; healing happens without happenstance.

And I am aware (again and again and again) of the mystery of the Creator, "working all things together for good..." Both the beauty and the terror. Creator/Redeemer/Sustainer making things happen in the spiral toward wholeness and shalom.

Monday, May 25, 2015

Laid Low Like a Fallow Field

A friend of mine taught me there are three kinds of people in the world: Some who are currently going through a crisis, Some who have just finished going through a crisis and Some for whom a crisis is waiting just around a corner. This rings true for me these days. 

The surgeon tells me a bowel obstruction the size of a hard ball takes years to form. So how long has this crisis been growing in my life and I never had a clue?

It’s probably a good thing none of us knows what’s next, else we would fret and worry and waste the days that are given to us one by one. As I recall, many years ago someone very wise said something about that very temptation:
Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today
(Matthew 6).
Someone else's bumper sticker wisdom reminds me: “Every day is a gift. That’s why we call it the Present.”

During this time of recovery, I find myself welcoming each day as an unopened present, wondering what will come to me as I move through each hour. This is quite different for me. 

I used to think I knew exactly what each day would bring; that’s why I had a calendar—to reassure me I knew exactly what would be happening in my future. Now I’m dis-illusioned from the illusion of knowing what the future holds.

I usually have a plan, a list of things to accomplish throughout the day so I can feel useful, so my life will have meaning. Now I’m challenged to remember that my life is meaningful completely apart from what I may (or may not) accomplish.

These are good things, I figure. There are certain lessons we only can learn when the props are removed, when the fullness is emptied, when the curtain is pulled back, when we are laid low.

Years ago—when I was lingering in another liminal space—I read a book by Sue Monk Kidd: When the Heart Waits. Her images of apple seeds and cocoons and fields lying fallow pierced me and have stayed with me through all my various experiences of (what I lovingly call) “forced Sabbaths.” I have done this before. Not quite like this but plenty of crises have laid me low plenty of times so that you would think I would be pretty good at this by now. And I guess I am better at it than I have been in the past. I am especially aware of the grace that I truly do not have anything better to do with my life right now than to rest and to heal.

I am a fallow field.

What will come from this? What will grow in me? What will the future bring?

I haven’t a clue. I’m not supposed to - although my control issues still tempt me to imagine that I should know, that I should be using this time to be “productive.”

But then the other angel on my shoulder reminds me that being productive must include the waiting and the resting and the getting ready to produce. Otherwise the harvest may be shallow and slight. The same wise teacher who tells us not to worry teaches about this temptation as well:
Hear then the parable of the sower... As for what was sown on rocky ground, this is the one who hears the word and immediately receives it with joy; yet such a person has no root, but endures only for awhile, and when trouble or persecution arises on account of the word, that person immediately falls away. As for what was sown among thorns, this is the one who hears the word, but the cares of the world and the lure of wealth choke the word, and it yields nothing. But as for what was sown on good soil, this is the one who hears the word and understands it, who indeed bears fruit… (Matthew 13).
I suppose like any field, I don’t have it in me to conjure up goodness. Seems to me that’s the work of the cosmos; maybe I am here to wait and to yield and to allow Creator/Redeemer/Sustainer to compost the muck and manure of my life into the goodness and richness I yearn for.

Will I ever serve another local congregation? Will I finish my degree? Will I keep musing about the scriptures of The Story? Will I keep pondering the intersections of faith and culture?

I don’t know. And that’s okay because I know I will know when it’s time to know.

In the meantime, my heart waits. And this resting spirit of mine is what allows my body to wait and rest as well. Every day is better. Every morning I wake up stronger. Every night I go to bed content. Every baby step is a milestone. Every challenge is an opportunity.

Every moment that the field of my life lies fallow for now is a day or a year of richness and goodness coming in my future.

I believe this. I trust this. I will rest in this.

Thursday, May 21, 2015

Two Weeks Post-Op

"Time heals all wounds," they say. But also deep sleep, good food, gentle movement and lavish love. I am constantly amazed at how much better I am; each day I can tell a difference.

But it is decidedly odd to be so intimate with my digestive system. Colons are not common conversation; they are to be tucked away discreetly and taken for granted. Well - not this colon, not now and it's fascinating to be confronted repeatedly with evidence and consequence of every single thing I put into my mouth. I've lost the graceful cushion of my body. Instead of a system that compensates and forgives little indiscretions, this current system demands much more of my careful, constant attention.

I am a pretty private person. I know that in my writing and in my preaching, I can be fairly self-disclosing sometimes but I'm always clear where my line is and I rarely cross over into true vulnerability. That's probably due to my personality; an Enneagram Nine, I figure. An Introvert. So I'm pondering my new reality where this hidden, physical part of me is so exposed. I'm pondering the inter-relationship and inter-connection of my physical and my emotional/spiritual being.

The Enneagram tells me I am a "gut" person: I understand the world not primarily by way of my thinking or my feeling but rather by way of some deep, instinctual process. All of us have "gut reactions" but evidently we Eights, Nines and Ones experience life as a kind of gut reaction most of the time. I don't quite understand this but I'm trying. I would much rather be a "head" person,  analyzing my world with a cool, dispassionate rationality. But no - I'm very aware that I am someone who feels things in her gut, who understands (or often misunderstands) things by some deep, reflexive process that defies reason.

So is there a connection to this way of living life by my gut and this life threatening blockage that snuck up on me and shut my gut down? I don't know. Part of my current ponderings.

I'm re-reading Bill Moyers' Healing and the Mind (1993). The science is surely dated these 20+ years later but the conversations are intriguing and all these scientists assure us that - yes - there clearly is a connection between our physical and our emotional. Biochemist Candace Pert said:

"The mind is some kind of enlivening energy in the information realm throughout the brain and body that enables the cells to talk to each other, and the outside to talk to the whole organism."

The "mind" exists not only in the brain, she insists, but in every single cell in the body. All our emotions reside in the body, are stored throughout the body and are triggered by chemical receptors in the cells in response to various events.

"Moods and attitudes that come from the realm of the mind transform themselves into the physical realm through the emotions."

How does this science correlate to my being a "gut" person? I don't know. So many questions.

Generally I love the questions; they have been my salvation again and again. But these days I'm grateful I'm not burdened with unhelpful, unanswerable questions like: "why me?" This is mine - for whatever reason. I will bear it. I will learn from it. I will grow.

And I will definitely encounter each day with a sharper awareness and a deeper gratitude than ever before. Every day as I grow stronger, I am cultivating thankfulness - for time to heal, deep sleep, good food, gentle movement and lavish love. And for the amazing grace of the One who is ever working all things together for the good of all.

Saturday, May 16, 2015

Still Surrounded by Grace, Hope and Love


I guess all of us are always surrounded by grace. I know it's true for me that I forget to notice most of the time. But ever since this black hole of emergency surgery and colostomy bags sucked me in two weeks ago, I can definitely say I am very aware how much my life is sustained by grace and hope and love.

I've been remembering the words to an old hymn: "grace greater than all my sin..." It's a nice thought, but what strikes me these days is the mystery of a grace greater than the corporate sin that this entire humanity continues to generate. I'm still reading my news feed with stories of duplicitous politicians, desperate boat people, deteriorating air and water and soil, greed, hate, hurt, betrayal... It's enough to make my gut cinch up all over again. Even so, I want to keep learning how to surround myself with this grace that is greater than all this sin. I want to learn how to acknowledge the world's pain without letting it paralyze me; to feel the pain without numbing myself to it; to let the grace flow. I can't close myself off from all this or else I close myself off from life itself.

I once preached a sermon about biblical hope: Hope with a Big H. Whenever my plans, my desires, my hopes get lost in the chaos of the cosmos and it seems as if everything I have ever counted on is shifting sand, I want to keep learning how to live each day grounded in this Hope with a Big H. I have every confidence that my second surgery come November will patch me back up better than new. But in the meantime, I have a lot of every days to live with this bizarre new reality. In each of these days, I want to live in the bigger, Hope-full reality of grace greater, grace sufficient, grace amazing.

I've been recalling the wise words of the gentle old nursery horse to the velveteen rabbit:

'[Real] doesn't happen all at once,' said the Skin Horse. 'You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand.”
― Margery Williams, The Velveteen Rabbit

Some of you don't know how very shabby I really am; I put on a pretty good front in order to look Real. But a lot of you see right through me and know me better than I'm comfortable with. And you love me anyway. This astounds me. I want to keep learning how to love like that; to open myself up to all our failures and infidelities and to love anyway. Hands on, Real Love.

That's what I've experienced from my Jerry - embodied love. That's what I feel from so many of you who have called and visited and texted and emailed and snail mailed... Thank you. I want to keep learning how to let that kind of love seep into my gut and break open my own closed off places; letting Real Love really change me into someone who Really Loves.

Surrounded every moment of every hour of every day with Grace, Hope and Love.

Inline image 1Inline image 2

Tuesday, March 3, 2015

Sincere Differences Discussed Sincerely


A long-time good friend and I are having an ongoing cyberspace discussion about same sex marriage. We both are Christians but he’s pretty conservative and I am not. I’m all for it and he certainly is not. We both are smart, articulate and thoughtful. And we both love each other. I’m guessing neither one of us will change our mind, but – as he says – we are discussing our sincere differences sincerely. And we both are better for it.
 
I know where he’s coming from because I used to believe pretty much the same way. I’ve made those arguments; I’ve had those concerns. We’ve both grown and changed since we were so close, but we’ve grown and changed in different directions. Such is the human journey. Such is the way of relationships.

But for us, relationship is the key; being friends is more important to us than being right. (Of course, we both think we are right.) I am grateful this friendship means as much to him as it does to me because I have other conservative friends who have broken off their relationships; they unfriended me on Facebook a long time ago. It’s like some people are so committed to a particular (peculiar) kind of integrity that agreeing to disagree somehow compromises their core ethics. They seem to believe their sworn duty is to fix me, to change me and if they can’t do that, then we can’t be friends. This belief system makes me immensely sad because it contributes to alienation and estrangement throughout the human community. Friends, families, governments… minds set in stone, conversation in talking points, assassinating character and impugning integrity, listening just enough to misunderstand…

I admit I don’t have these kinds of probing conversations with very many of my conservative friends; most of us agree to disagree and then agree not to talk about it. But this friend is precious. Authentic community between human beings is always a precious thing, but when community is not easy, when it calls for an extra dose of patience and understanding and respect and compassion – that kind of friendship is rare and beautiful and precious.

Our current American civilization is not very civil these days. There are deep divides that separate us; strong differences of opinion that keep pushing us further and further apart. But I think it’s not the divides and the differences themselves that are the problem. We’ve always had our differences and when we’re smart, we recognize that our diversity is part of our strength. No, I don’t think it’s our differences that are the problem; I think it’s the fear.

Now that Stephen Colbert is in between TV shows, he is free to talk more publicly about his Catholic faith. In a recent interview, he was asked his favorite Bible verse: “Do not worry about your life…” he quicklyreplied. And “do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries ofits own.” In order to stay mindful, Stephen believes, one cannot live in fear. It’s a little like comedy, he explains: You can’t laugh and be afraid at the same time.

“You can’t laugh and be afraid at the same time.”

There are plenty of things in our lives, in our world that justifiably cause anxiety. Stephen Colbert knows that as well or better than must of us. But we’re not going to solve any of our problems if we can’t talk to each other, if we don’t participate in honest conversation and collaborate in creative dreaming. We can’t hope to find our common connections if we don’t discuss our sincere differences sincerely.
We can’t build bridges of cooperation if we don’t come together across these deep divides. We can’t live if we don’t laugh and love.

I’m not sure this will ever happen on Facebook - even though I volunteer for Coffee Party USA and have high hopes that more and more people will commit to civil public conversation around controversial issues. But I do believe we can build these bridges one relationship at a time. “Anthropology trumps ideology,” another friend likes to say. When I really come to know a person - who they are, where they come from, what they value; when I really grow to love a person – then my dogmas become less rigid and my boundaries become more porous. One friend, one family member, one co-worker who sees the world differently can be a great resource for expanding our understanding. One person’s effort to listen and learn from another (especially one who has been “the other”) can erode fear and cultivate love and laughter.

You may say I’m a dreamer.
But I’m not the only one.


© Charlotte Vaughan Coyle 2015



Saturday, February 21, 2015

The Law of the Lord


Exodus 16-24
Matthew 1-7

Some years ago, a young man came to my office looking for a new church. We talked for a while and I learned the story of his struggle with alcohol addiction. He was already active in an AA group but he believed a church community might also help turn his life around.  I called the pastor at a nearby community church to find out more about their recovery program and it sounded like a good fit for this man who was living life on survival mode. We stayed in touch for several months and he seemed to be doing well. I sometimes wonder how he is doing now. 

Sometimes some people need rules, structure, clear definitions. This makes sense to us when we are raising our children; independence and healthy self-sufficiency can only come through a process of growing through stages and practicing living within some kind of protective environment. This makes sense to us when we remember our own journey toward maturity.

Sometimes we refer to the people of Moses as “the children of Israel.” The term "children" isn't meant to be used as a contrast to the concept of "adult;" it's mostly the King James Version's way to describe this people's family tree and identify them as the descendants of Jacob. But maybe - in another way - "children" can also serve as a kind of archetypical description of humanity's development in all of our various cultures and societies over the ages. Without thinking of Israel as any more “childish” than any of the rest of us, consider how their story as chronicled in the Hebrew Scriptures might give insight to how all of us - individuals as well as societies - grow through stages toward healthy maturity.

In the remarkable story of exodus and deliverance in the second book of the Hebrew Scriptures, the people emerge from the confining womb of slavery, through the birth waters of the Red Sea and into the wilderness. There is manna here, and clean water, and even fresh meat provided for the complaining, sullen people. Again and again, they test the patience of Moses; they test the faithfulness of the God who Calls, who Saves, who Provides.

As the story unfolds, God calls Moses up to the mountaintop where he is immersed in fire and cloud and sapphired glory for forty days and forty nights. And when he returns to the camp in the valley, Moses comes with the Ten Commandments which summarize for the people all the Law that teaches how to live in relationship with God and with one another.

Of course there is other law in the pages of the Torah as well, not just the moral code. The Mosaic Law also details the particulars of worship, ceremonial law that includes rules for the priesthood and for the sacrificial system. But fundamentally, the Law from Sinai teaches the fledgling people of Israel how to be in relationship, how to behave toward one another with fairness and justice. It is law grounded in a specific culture, time and place. It is law contingent on the particular circumstances of a particular people in a particular day and age.


It’s interesting to read The Gospel according to Matthew alongside the book of the Exodus. Matthew is our most Jewish gospel and throughout, we see comparisons and contrasts between Jesus and Moses.
·      The Pharaoh in Egypt and the King in Jerusalem kill the male infants who may threaten their power.
·      “Out of Egypt I have called my son…” Matthew says of Jesus - while in the background he clearly sees Israel escaping danger and persecution.
·      Jesus is baptized in the Jordan River, passing through the waters and then entering into the wilderness where he too is tempted to test God.
·      But again and again, unlike God’s other “child” Israel (or any of the rest of us sons and daughters!), Jesus is the one who faithfully and persistently submits himself to the God who Calls, who Saves and who Provides.

And then Matthew offers an especially fascinating comparison between the Law of Moses delivered from Mount Sinai and the Sermon on the Mount delivered by Jesus.


Matthew’s Jesus is bold to re-read the ancient Law and re-interpret its meaning and significance for the people of Israel in a new day. Jesus does not contradict or critique the Law; rather he goes deeper, he goes to the root - the radix. Radix is the word from which we get the word “radical” and in these six antitheses (or better “hyper-theses”), Jesus radicalizes the Law.

Rules done right point beyond superficial behavior to attitude, perspective, mindset. Rules done right remind what is core and fundamental. It’s not just about adultery or murder or divorce, Jesus says; it’s about respecting relationship and honoring commitments. It’s not just about how you treat your friends, Jesus says; it’s about living together in humility and integrity (even with your enemies!) in the upside down right side up inside out kingdom of heaven.

Of course faithful, pious Jews already knew this. The prophets especially understood the root of Israel’s problem and boldly called for repentance-turning-returning to the heart of the matter. Ancient wisdom did not originate with Jesus when he summarized his sermon: “In everything do to others as you would have them do to you; for this is the law and the prophets.” (Matthew 7:12)

But people are people, and in every age most people tend towards superficiality; it’s much more comfortable. Bright lines and check lists may make us feel safe, but they also keep us small. Well-defined guidelines and clear parameters work well for children, but growing up requires self-discipline and complex wisdom.

Besides radicalizing the Law, Matthew’s Jesus does something else, something key to Matthew’s own Christology: Jesus speaks for God.

In Matthew’s understanding, the Law is foundational but it is not ultimate. For Matthew, it is the one to whom the law and the prophets point – the Messiah, the Christ – who embodies the ultimate, definitive will of God.  It is in Jesus Christ that the Law is both affirmed and fulfilled. It is in Jesus Christ that the Law is both validated and transcended. It is Jesus Christ who is the final authority. And – for Matthew – the Spirit of the Risen Christ is still speaking, teaching and leading the Church.

This is Matthew’s way. 

The apostle Paul has his own way of understanding the significance of the Christ Event and the subsequent transition from the requirements of law to the freedoms and responsibility of grace. Reading between Matthew and Paul, it is clear there was some tension among the New Testament theologians about how best to re-read and re-interpret their own Scriptures. The New Testament writers were all faithful Jews who honored their tradition and grounded their lives in the Mosaic Law so it was with deep prayer and care that they pondered new understandings of the Law in light of the Christ. Even so, as faithful and conscientious as they were, they inevitably saw some things differently and so the Christian churches they planted emerged with different understandings, traditions and practices. (This is very much like our own experience of diversity within the Christian tradition of our own day.)


In the ancient wisdom literature, Psalm 19 sings a song of praise:
The law of the Lord is perfect,
            reviving the soul;
the decrees of the Lord are sure,
            making wise the simple;
the precepts of the Lord are right,
            rejoicing the heart;
the commandment of the Lord is clear,
            enlightening the eyes;
the fear of the Lord is pure,
            enduring forever;
the ordinances of the Lord are true
            and righteous altogether.

I can see the Psalmist honoring the Law of Moses in these beautiful words. But I see more. Before there was the Torah, there was the cosmos. In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth…And God said, “It is good.”

Creator’s law, decrees, commandments, ordinances that structure the universe are knitted into the fabric of the world. Creator’s will and way that give order and meaning to everything that exists are part of nature’s DNA.

The Psalmist begins his praise with this affirmation:
The heavens are telling the glory of God;
            and the firmament proclaims his handiwork.
Day to day pours forth speech,
            and night to night declares knowledge.
There is no speech, nor are there words;
            their voice is not heard;
And yet their voice goes out through all the earth,
            and their words to the end of the world.


Here is scriptural acknowledgment and celebration of God’s law of the universe, God’s way in the cosmos, God’s will for creation.

The Mosaic Law flowed from that cosmic law and articulated justice and equity that was probably unusual for its time, but it was always law contingent upon its time and place and people. The newly formed people of Israel who received the Law at Mount Sinai continued to grow in their understandings.  In later commentary and reflection, the Prophets dug deeper into the meaning and significance of the Law. And then in another theological stream, the writers of the Wisdom tradition pondered relationship with God and one another in other profound ways. Growing awareness and deepening maturity always will lead us away from “either-or” and into “both-and” contemplations.

Much as my AA friend needed structure and clear definitions for a time, much as our children need rules and limits while they are learning how to live, so all of us have periodically benefited from the protective environment of law as we have grown through stages into greater maturity. As we continue to grow in our relationship with God and with one another, we grow into grace.

The life and work of Christ has fulfilled the Law of Moses and now brought all humanity within the law-way-will of God that is right for all people in all times and places. I think of it as a way of Shalom: peace and wholeness, unity and harmony. When this law is written in our hearts, there is shalom with God and shalom with one another.

The law and the prophets pointed us to this Way: No longer shall they teach one another, or say to each other, “Know the Lord,” for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, says the Lord; for I will forgive their iniquity, and remember their sin no more (Jeremiah 31:34).

The Spirit of the Risen Christ leads us in this Way.

Sunday, February 8, 2015

Change of Mind, Change of Heart: Moving Away from Fundamentalism

         “If I change my mind, then I’d have to admit I’ve been wrong."
He was a good man: sweet, humble and kind. He had lived for more than 80 years and had a gentle wisdom about him. So when my friend made this statement, my jaw dropped. How on earth can anyone think that way? I marveled.
              But then I remembered – that used to be me.  
I used to believe that “Right” and “Wrong” were Black and White; that if I was right, and you disagreed with me, then you must be wrong. Now I believe all of us are probably mostly a little bit right and a whole lot wrong – about a whole lot of things. 
I used to believe truth was a small fragile thing that needed to be defended. Now I believe Truth is a rainbow with infinite colors and facets that takes a lifetime to explore. Truth doesn’t need to be defended; it needs to be discovered. 
I used to believe being wrong would have dire (even eternal) consequences. Now I believe being wrong is just one more way to learn; one more way to recognize how incomplete understanding inevitably must be for any of us mortals; one more way to keep me humble. I used to believe women couldn’t/shouldn’t/better not be preachers. Now (I do believe!) I am one.

I’m a bit like Dorothy, stepping out of her small black and white existence into a bright Technicolor world. And like Dorothy, it took a tornado to get me here.

Change is a fact of life. They say our cells die off and regenerate at an astonishing rate. Scientists suggest that almost all the cells in our body are completely replaced about every 7-10 years. We go about our business and don’t even recognize how radically, how quickly our body is changing every day of our lives.
But in other ways, change is disorienting, intimidating, frightening. Changing deeply held beliefs; changing long entrenched habits; changing fundamental assumptions … either we choose this path of intentional growth. Or sometimes life will force us into it.

For me, Dorothy’s tornado was seminary. I never imagined such a wide rainbow world existed and I was challenged to explore ideas that made me absolutely uncomfortable. I was challenged to uncover my embedded, unexamined assumptions and expose them to the light of critical thinking. I was challenged to test my theories of understanding according to standards of coherence: if I say I believe A and B, then those different things still must be compatible with each other. Even paradoxical thinking has a core consistency about it. It was hard, exhausting work.
I felt like the kid in the Far Side cartoon sitting in a classroom, raising his hand and asking permission to go. “May I be excused? My brain is full.”
But it was this hard work of changing my mind that led me to a change of heart as well. In order to be consistent in my beliefs, I had to pay attention to how I lived out the convictions of my life. I had to be intentional about how I acted in real time and real space with real people.

I used to believe people are responsible for their own actions.
Now I believe – in addition to personal responsibility –all of us in this society are responsible for one another. 
I used to believe Jesus’ call to “love our neighbor” and to “do unto others” applied only to individuals. Now I believe – in addition to private charity – all of us in this society must create public policies that cultivate an environment where all people can thrive.
I used to believe everyone has the freedom to choose their own way. Now I believe many people, maybe most people on the planet are born into circumstances and raised in situations that severely limit their choices.
I used to believe our civil governments had the right to impose morality on its citizens. Now I believe the core ethics that should under gird our civil laws must be the moral foundation originally set forth in our Constitution: unity, justice, safety, well being and liberty. It is these values that should shape our laws, not the private morality of any religion or any group of people.
Changing my mind brought about a change of heart which in turn led to a change of my political, cultural and social commitments.

It started with a tornado which turned my thinking upside down and right side up. It has continued slowly and persistently as I have grown. Like an acorn with a hard shell, I needed to let go of my rigid limits and my small world before I could push through the dark soil and reach for the sun. I am not the same person I was a year ago. A year from now, I hope I will not be the same person I am today.

My friend had trouble admitting he could be wrong. I know many good, kind-hearted people who share that black and white space with him. But that doesn’t work for me anymore. 
For me, these days, it feels pretty good to admit I’m wrong, that I don’t know everything, that I have a lot to learn. It keeps me humble. And it feels very good to live in this wide, rainbow, Technicolor world.

I could never go back.




Charlotte Vaughan Coyle is an ordained minister within the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) and doctoral student at Brite Divinity School.