Greener Grass, New Trees, Wide Open Spaces and Better Futures

“Just so you know, the grass is not greener outside of here when it comes to women.” This phrase has been rolling around in my head all month. Twenty years ago when I was in a free-fall out of a mega-church staff, I was in a meeting that I still remember clearly to this day. It was me and a room full of male pastors wrestling with the reality that two of us–myself and a colleague and friend who became the catalyzer for the dream of the Refuge–were on our way out under the leadership of a new senior pastor. One leader made a last ditch effort to see if I’d admit I was wrong for rocking the boat so hard and submit to that jacked up system for a little longer. (This was also after a decision was made that somehow biblically it was okay for me to teach to the male addicts and outcasts in recovery every week, but maybe just not to men who came to the “real” Sunday service, yup). He stood up at the meeting, pointing his index finger at me and yelled, ”Just so you know, the grass is not greener outside of here when it comes to women. You will never find a place that will value your voice like we do. If you leave, you can kiss all of this goodbye because no one will treat you as good as we will as a woman in ministry.”

Just so you know, that was a horrible, awful, very bad day.

And an extremely difficult season in my story as a female leader in a system that I naively believed could be different.

I was 20 years younger than I am now, 38 years old to be exact. I was juggling what felt like a dream job that came my direction in the wildest of ways, raising five young kids while Jose was working full-time at United and going to law school to boot. The brutal disillusionment of discovering just how dysfunctional the system was and how patriarchy and addiction to power and control was tough not only on my soul but also my faith. In that moment–and for the first few months of starting the Refuge–I had flashes of wondering whether that teammate might be right and maybe that mega-church stint would be the end of the line for me.

Instead, it turned out to be a new beginning.

An open path. A rescue. A gift. Where it wouldn’t be too long before I could unequivocally say, um, yeah, actually, the grass is greener (I wrote this post in 2010 and just re-read it–it definitely made me smile).

Two decades later, I’ve been looking back on where I was then and all that’s happened over these years. How my faith expanded far beyond what I could have ever imagined and became more simple than anyone told me it could be. How small the role I had then really was even though it seemed so big at the time. How slipping down the slope landed me in new wide open spaces that keep expanding.

Yeah, the grass has definitely been greener.

Not always easier.

But definitely greener.

This last month will go down as one of the wildest in my personal history–starting with sharing the Easter message at Red Rocks Amphitheatre. To be able to share from my guts about what I think best represents the ways of Jesus–small, authentic, brave, scrappy, and creative pockets of love, equity, action, and hope in a world bent on bigger was surreal and healing. Then, celebrating the Refuge’s 20th last weekend with an oh-so-Refuge banger of a party was the best possible way of honoring the past, the present, and dreaming for the future.

The memory of the grass-is-not-greener comment made its way into this month for a reason; while it stung to remember it, it also made me chuckle. Um, yeah, the grass has absolutely, positively been greener. On this wild April ride I also remembered writing about planting new trees instead of constantly trying to convince old systems they need to change and refusing to let unhealthy systems ruin our faith and redefining what’s crazy and how while I first shared about little pockets of love in 2009 after seeing a movie that I will never forget, it was a guiding belief far before then.

I’ve realized that even though so much has changed on the outside, on the inside, many things I believed and values I held far before becoming evangelical-ized have remained.

I think that’s likely true for so many of you reading, too.

Our souls always knew the way.

It was the systems we were in that caused us to doubt it, minimize it, rationalize it, squelch it, quiet it down.

But here we are, in all our different ways and variety of paces, planting new trees, finding greener grass, stepping into wide open spaces that have been calling us for a long time, and building better futures regardless of our pasts.

Here we are, finding healing from past stories and embodying new ways of moving and leading that’s finally in alignment with our core values.

Refusing to give up dreams even though they don’t make sense in our current culture.

Lifting up and supporting each other and sharing power because we know it’s not like pie but rather like loaves and fishes.

Cultivating and nurturing little pockets of love and hope and freedom and action in so many creative contexts without fanfare or recognition.

Refusing to let the ugly, limiting, and negative messages we’ve received or internalized about who we are as leaders hold us back.

Healing, changing, growing, transforming, finding new life in unexpected places.

Moving away from trying to smash the patriarchy and instead just simply finding new fields to play in and new friends to play with.

Holding all the &’s of life and faith in ways we’ve always had the capacity to but weren’t originally taught.

Honoring where we’ve been and fanning new dreams into flame alongside others who believe in what could be, too.

Finding greener grass in all our unique ways, together.

Thank you for your courage—it definitely helps mine.

I’ll close with these words from Hildegard of Bingen, a 12th century mystic who broke all kinds of boundaries and is known for her theological concept of viriditas, or the greening of God, which essentially is the creative power of life that lives inside everyone and must be tended to both spiritually and practically: “We cannot live in a world interpreted for us by others. An interpreted world is not a hope. Part of the terror is to take back our listening, to use our own voice, to see our own light.”

And may that light keep leading us to more and more green.

With you from Colorado,

PS: Soul + Practice Podcast is in its last month before a Summer break and I’ll share more about the wrap of our season soon, but today I wanted to point you to Limited Series Podcast we did for The Refuge’s 20th—This is the Refuge—that just wrapped up this past week. Produced by Dr. Decibel, a friend of The Refuge Cafe, these 8 episodes are real and honest and give you a glimpse of the Refuge story, with over 17 different voices, including a wonderful season finale with community partners.