Real Mission: IOU

A few years back, I attended a national Church program for clergy called CREDO. It’s not an acronym that I know of. We were told that CREDO means “I choose this.” Some of the priests and bishops attending had only been ordained a few years, while others were already semi-retired after 30+ years of service to the Church. CREDO, as a gathering, has been around for years, but the year I attended was the first ever CREDO gathering comprised of clergy who were all married to other members of the clergy; and we were all there together: a double dose of “I choose this."

For a week we workshopped and prayed, shared our experiences, and received wisdom from experts in the fields of relationship, spiritual expression, physical fitness, mental health, and finance. All essential disciplines to the health and wellness of a whole person; all vital components to the practice of priesthood.

One of the main components of the gathering was the formulation of an individual “Rule of Life."

Some of you may be participating in our Church of the Redeemer Rule of Life right now in The Way of Love. A way inspired by the life and teachings of Jesus.

For CREDO we were asked to formulate our individual rule, something succinct that we could easily remind ourselves as often as we needed, something we could go back to when life was tough, something that could change over the years, but something that at its core would always be true (Like The Way of Love).

Here is mine:

Slow down.
Seek peace.
Find joy.
Take risks.
Pray to the 3 in 1 with 1 and with 3.
Give generously from a place of gratitude.

The first three were easy. Having two tiny kids at home makes anyone crave a breath of fresh air. So much so, that a week at an Episcopal church camp with a bunch of priests felt like a vacation with my husband. Peace never goes out of style, and if I had known then what I know now, I would have added it to my rule of life just for the sake of this pandemic. Find joy. To be totally honest, that one hasn’t always been a given for me. I have been forty since I was four and often take myself way too seriously. I guess that’s why I married Chris Slane. He is the most joyous person I know. He is known for walking around our house singing Gospel music, one of his favorites comprised of the lyrics, “This joy that I have…the world didn’t give it to me…and the world can’t take it away."

Risks. This one came after some deep soul searching about when I felt most alive in my life. Choosing this crazy ordained life, moving to a foreign country, having children, embracing change. All of the best things I’ve done in my adult life have involved a dose of risk.

Prayer. You guys, I know I’m a priest, but if you picture me hanging around praying all day in a very pious fashion surrounded by silence, you obviously have not lived in a household with small children recently. I do find my time to pray though, and it is important for me to remember that prayer is essential in my private life with God (with 1) and in my family life with my spouse and kids (with 3).

The last component of my personal rule of life is impulsively the most natural and simultaneously the most difficult to sustain, especially when fear and anxiety creep in.

Give generously from a place of gratitude.

Giving is not just a given. We all know people who are naturally generous, and we all know people who have lots to spare (time, money, and aptitudes) but choose to keep it locked away for themselves. As a priest, I’ve been to many funerals, and let me tell you, not once have I seen a hearse pulling a U-Haul.

Generosity is the acknowledgement that you have been blessed by God, and you seek to share that blessing with others. Maybe you were born in the “right” country, in the “right” family. Maybe you grew up poor but excelled in school under the guidance of amazing educators who make a lot less than you make now. Maybe someone taught you a trade or skill known to few. Maybe you’re at the top of the heap wondering what the heck you did to get there.

My parents both grew up poor. On my mom’s side in rural Illinois, my dad from an immigrant family near the city. They wanted us to have all of the things they never had: a big house, nice cars, a high-ranking school district, dance lessons, swim team, and clothes from the Gap. We had all that. But you know what? None of that has been as valuable to me in life, and health, and Spirit as has been their commitment to giving a piece of what we had to the Church. , “God has blessed us, and we want to share that blessing with others."

My parents taught me how to give generously from a place of gratitude by giving to the work of the Church, by pledging financial resources, by sharing their time with neighbors and those experiencing need, and by using their joy, their wit, and their abilities to build up the community.

Each morning when I brush my teeth, I open the medicine cabinet door and read the paper posted there with a prose to keep me going:

Slow down.
Seek peace.
Find joy.
Take risks.
Pray to the 3 in 1 with 1 and with 3.
Give generously from a place of gratitude.

Every day I gear up to live a life that says to God, I owe you big time; but often what I hear in response is “You don’t owe me anything. You owe me everything."

Please don’t misunderstand me here. I don’t believe that God requires us to give or requires us to share. I do believe though, that everything we have ultimately comes from God. Whether you were born on third-base or happened to own a pair of bootstraps. In the end, everything comes from our Creator, and so, it seems only right, that we spread the blessing around. That we give generously from a place of gratitude.

"As you go, proclaim the good news, ‘The kingdom of heaven has come near.’ Cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out demons. You received without payment; give without payment." -Matthew 10:7-8