Adiaphora

 

"We need to pack 'go-bags' and put them in the car: a change of clothes and toiletries for each of us; a couple toys and books for H;  diapers & formula for Z; some food for the dogs... Just in case things get weird." Wallets with IDs would need to be kept handy and phones would need to be charged as well.

Crises and triaging the unimaginable have a way of stripping things down to their most basic ... their most essential. In retrospect, 2020 served a similar purpose for me and my world.

"Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.”

-Søren Kierkegaard

It was Friday, May 30th, seventy-eight days into the pandemic and our second night under curfew as civil unrest gripped the Twin Cities following the killing of George Floyd that Monday. While the likelihood of violence spreading through our Highland Park neighborhood seemed nominal, those were unprecedented days in the middle of an unprecedented year. Several miles to the West, Lake Street in Minneapolis was aflame. A couple miles straight North of us, 'our' Target on University Ave was one of the first places that violence occurred in Saint Paul. Gas stations nearby were torched systematically and shops on Grand Avenue were hit by opportunistic looting. 

Terms like Boogaloo and Proud Boys became part of my vocabulary and the neighborhood Facebook group was buzzing all night and all day, not with tales of the notoriously horrible service at our local DQ but with reports of cars with their license plates removed and suspected of prowling our streets and marking local businesses to ‘visit’ later: “Black Ford SUV. No plates. 3 passengers. Heading South on Cleveland. Phoned it in to police.” I pulled my vacationing neighbor's propane tank into our garage so it couldn't be seen from the street and made sure that our garden hose was easily accessible should trouble come to our little corner. 

Again unlikely, but so too was the sealing off of the Ford, Marshall, and other bridges across the Mississippi that link Minneapolis and Saint Paul. 

If the unthinkable occurred we would be prepared. If push came to shove, we could get out with what matters. The rest? The house, the yard, the stuff... unessential... it could all go. We would have each other and that would be enough. We would find a way. 

As the calendar turns, we find ourselves in a place of quiet stability. While we've experienced our own set of losses and setbacks, we recognize the privilege of that position.

Whatever the future holds, we begin with each other. And for that I give thanks.

"The self-assured believer is a greater sinner in the eyes of God than the troubled disbeliever"

-Søren Kierkegaard

Professionally, I entered 2020 full of confidence and pride. There was the conference in Nashville and membership in a badass cohort of leaders who were selected to 'lead, create, and innovate the church into a vibrant future.' There was the strategic plan and clear path forward for the BKB partnership. There was the ballsy vision of a career trajectory and belief that I'd simply tap dance from one stage to the next.

And then there was the pandemic and a lot of that was stripped away. 

The fundamentals are still there; the desire for growth, the goals for the organization, and my own professional aspirations - all of these remain. The others, however... the hubris and clear-eyed certainty... the vocational ballsiness and clerical badassery... these were wiped away and revealed to be what they were all along: adiaphora... postures and positions and actions not regarded as essential to faith. 

Inessential, these things can, in fact, get in the way and I've spent the latter part of 2020 piling them up and putting them away. 

And so, I enter 2021 with a clear heart -if not clear eyes- and aspirations that fly lower to the ground through a landscape of certain uncertainty... simply living out my calling to be who I am, where I am, with the people I'm with, forever as long as I'm with them. And for that, too, I give thanks.