Photo by Jan Kopřiva
Rev. Carrie Graham is the founding pastor of The Church Lab.
"I don't know."
This must be one of the most valuable phrases in the English language. Or any language.
For many, including myself, this phrase connotes humility. It can be a nod to God's control or sovereignty. In some cases, "I don't know" can be a way of leaning into our faith commitment, and all that may be bigger or wiser than ourselves.
However, for good reason, 2022 may not feel like a year in which cozying up to the phrase "I don't know" feels nice in any way.
Have we not suffered through enough explicit uncertainty in our lives?
Why would the phrase "I don't know" be celebrated, when it seems this phrase has been held over our heads for 2 years and counting?
There is a harsh reality to the hardship that constant detours and pivoting have brought us, and the callousness it seems to show around our own exhaustion around it.
Yet there is another kind of "I don't know." It's the "I don't know" of dreaming. It's the "I don't know" that answers the question, "What shall I do today?" after an enduring season of hardship, whether in illness or captivity or a job whose routine is so seared in the back of your brain, you'd give your right arm to get rid of structure for a moment and say, "I don't know what the day holds." There's the magical freedom that "I don't know" can carry.
Both personally and professionally, this is the time of year when I uphold traditions of reflection and vision for what's next. I take time to pray and listen to how God might be guiding TCL to focus on its mission in the coming year. I create images and metaphors and share them on this blog and with my board. (Last year it was a ship whose parts were all labeled with different aspects of who we are and how we were focusing on our vision for 2021.) I make decisions based on those focal points along the way. It checks all my boxes of wishing to be spiritually grounded and super productive at the same time. I like to match it with our 1, 3, 5, and 10-year plans, which we review annually. Our board is forming a Strategic Plan right now; it would be satisfying to match it to that work as well. It is all very tidy work.
But we know that spiritual work does not always fit into our boxes, and if it does, we should be wary of who we have made God.
This week, when it came time to do that aforementioned prayerful work of discernment for the year, one immediate certainty came up, perhaps ironically:
I don't know.
I do know many things. I know TCL's mission. I know TCL is exploring innovative paths to spiritual maturity, helping the Church find her future. I know that we expanded to full-time work two years ago, as a pandemic began, as we are going strong in the difference we wish to make in this world, and in accordance with the way we believe God is guiding us to do so. I know this is a steady force guiding us into and through 2022. I'm so grateful.
I know our activities and community is strong: our dialogues, Chortle, the social or worshipful or missional experiments we lace into our community offerings along the way, our penpals, our internships, our board, our donors, our work helping faith communities in the state of Texas, our work with supporting pastors and helping them innovate, and still more beyond this. I am amazed at the caliber of people in our orbit, through these activities.
I know there are good things ahead. I know TCL's community is tight, strong, integrity-filled, connected. I know TCL people are peacemakers, bridge-builders, life-long learners. We are risk-takers. We are faith-filled in a variety of ways, and we are educated by learning from one another's faith commitments and practice. We have grown to be able to share our experimental lessons with faith communities far beyond our own.
I know I am beyond grateful for this community.
Thanks be to God.
Finally, I know that I am about to embark on a long-awaited Sabbatical for 6 weeks, in which I will engage in intentional spiritual reflection throughout.
With this in mind, I say in the best of terms, I do not know.
I do not know what I will learn from God or about myself or a 2022 vision for TCL while I am spending this intentional spiritual time away, beginning at the end of next week, which is still in our very beginnings of the year. I do not know how the world may look different after breathing in some fresh air for a bit. I am excited to find out. I am grateful for being afforded the time to do so, so that I might serve and lead with a whole heart and a clear mind. What a gift indeed to be able to honor my spiritual journey this way, and to know that it will benefit TCL greatly.
And so it is with joy and anticipation that I share with you, instead of a super official and unique-to-2022 vision on this particular January: While I know the steadiness of who we are and that we are carrying that strongly into 2022, I do not yet know the focal point or image of the year. It seems clear to me now that presuming to establish that focal point just before, rather than just after, a Sabbatical, would be more myopic than what I hope to give TCL's 2022.
As such, I say proudly here in January, I do not know.
I am excited to find out more about the specific contours of this year for TCL, as I embark on my first mini-Sabbatical for 6 weeks.
I am excited to come back and share whatever degrees of mysteries or clarity I encounter during this time. I am excited to share about the unexpected adventures that will come up, which I would not know to write about here.
I do pray they relate to safe and smooth experiences, and appreciate those prayers and thoughts from you, as you're able.
I am very excited for the ways this will more meaningfully shape TCL's 2022 than what my pre-Sabbatical perspective might stretch to suppose in this here and now.
I am beyond excited for how our TCL community will continue to thrive, both during and beyond my Sabbatical, and I can't wait to serve y'all in our enduring mission, along with specific focal points that may surface during and beyond my Sabbatical for this 2022.
May the mysteries already presented to us in 2022 not all be weighty with the pandemic and detours. For the burdens that reside here for us anyway, may we continue to be there for one another, to always bear the harsher uncertainties together. May we lift one another up and hold hope on behalf of one another if we take turns being weary.
May you, too, find yourself celebrating uncertainties that bring you a sense of freedom and allow you to dream, allow you to encounter your faith with fresh eyes and an increasingly whole heart, as we journey alongside one another each step of the way. I am certain this is my prayer for each of you, and for our community, as we venture into this new year.
With gratitude and anticipation of God's work…and more to share in March!
Carrie