Great little book I’m reading: Misbelief: What Makes Rational People Believe Irrational Things. Chapter 1’s title poses a question: “How Could That Person Believe That Thing?” It’s a question I’ve asked many times. Including a question that—to be fair—I’ve tried to interrogate myself with.
Author Dan Ariely sets up his chapter with this brilliant insight from Leo Tolstoy, from 1897:
I know that most men (sic)—not only those considered clever, but even those who are very clever and capable of understanding most difficult scientific, mathematical, or philosophic problems—can very seldom discern even the simplest and most obvious truth if it be such as to oblige them to admit the falsity of conclusions they have formed, perhaps with much difficulty—conclusions of which they are proud, which they have taught to others, and on which they have built their lives.
When the stakes are high, in arguments and in life, even the smartest among us may struggle to “discern even the simplest and most obvious truth” if it means saying we were wrong. There are just some positions people hold—even “very clever and capable” people—that no amount of logic or clear evidence can overturn.
So what to do? Push harder? Try a back-door or softer approach? Give up? Break up?
It depends, I think, on the impact a particular bad belief could have.
If my friend believes Dunkin’ makes good coffee, he’s laughably wrong, but so what? His assessment doesn’t hurt anyone. Let him drink his coffee-water in peace.
If my colleague campaigns against vaccinations, on the other hand, I’m going to spend more time thinking about how to push back, since that colleague’s approach impacts other people. (And it is a public health issue.)
As for changing either person’s mind… I don’t know. Maybe you just can’t? Or maybe I just haven’t cracked some code of persuasion yet.
That doesn’t mean give up. It doesn’t mean don’t speak up, especially if there’s an important voice not represented in the conversation that stands to lose something or be deprived of something. In such cases I find myself more likely to labor with/against “the falsity of conclusions they have formed.”
In the meantime, nodding my head and accepting Tolstoy’s insight (if somewhat regretfully) seems like an important step.
Too many to count were the college papers I finished writing at 3:00 a.m. that I knew were brilliant. Just stunning stuff that was going to land me in a peer-reviewed academic journal as an undergraduate.
Not only was I never published as an undergrad, but most of those papers—even as I groggily re-read them while walking to class later in the morning—turned out to be… not as amazing as I’d thought. My twilight assessment had been clouded by lack of sleep, caffeine, adrenaline, and repeat listens to Coldplay’s first album (you know, the good one).
A rare exception is a paper I wrote my senior year in Spanish, an extended review of Paulo Freire’s 1974 essay, “Las iglesias, la educación, y el proceso de liberación humana en la historia” (“Churches, Education, and the Process of Human Liberation in History”).
I titled my essay, “Gritar con los oprimidos: Una teoría de liberación para la juventud en el ministerio,” which in English is, “Shouting with the Oppressed: A Theory of Liberation for Youth in Ministry.” In true liberation theology fashion, I wrote the paper while active in youth ministry. And falling short of liberation theology ideals, I did not quote or amplify actual voices of young people in my essay. But I set out a theoretical framework that, in practice, powerfully shaped my ministry with youth in a well-to-do, predominantly white suburb.
I concluded (grandiosely, or inspired—let the reader decide):
In this model, we do not start with ourselves, but we start with listening to the voice of the oppressed person. In this way, the voice of the oppressed will be heard throughout the world. We use power in the fight with them against the elites and towards a new historical reality, constituted by us, and that reflects the glory of God on earth.
Today Freire’s longer Pedagogy of the Oppressed remains one of books that has most shaped me. I particularly thrilled, a few years ago, to be able to discuss Freire’s work and approach in detail with school educators in my congregation. I like to think that led to all of our teaching—in our respective spheres—shaping a reality more in line with the liberation Jesus longs to bring to the world.
Still, since writing my (real or imagined) pièce de résistance 20+ years ago, I’ve often found myself lulled into accepting the status quo in church settings. Liberation theology has been an afterthought. An after-praxis.
But our God is a liberating God, and that beautiful and powerful reality is brought to bear on God’s people throughout the pages of Scripture. And today, too: God still liberates—and longs to liberate—those who are oppressed and kept from living what Jesus called “life to the fullest.”
Having nearly forgotten my writing (and practice) around “Liberation for Youth,” I recently discovered child liberation theology. It’s awesome, Christocentric, generative, and powerful.
Here are four sources that I’ve loved sitting with as I seek to reintegrate this important framework—liberation theology—into my own life and ministry, with a particular focus on children:
1. The Gospels
Recently I slowly re-read the Gospels with an eye toward how Jesus interacted with children and other vulnerable populations. The read-through has been transformative for me. And not just temporarily so.
This week what’s really sticking out to me are two sayings of Jesus, both of which call for a centering of children in the Kingdom of God and in our own lives:
Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these.
— Matthew 19:14 // Mark 10:14 // Luke 18:16
And this gem, which I’ve seen less frequently cited, even in literature talking about Jesus and children:
Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.
—Matthew 18:3
Unless you change! This is not just Jesus talking about how he loves children, or about how we adults should love children, but about how we should become like little children. To be faithful to Jesus, we have to stop and ask: How are little children, that we can become like them? In what ways do children know and wonder about and access and experience God, and how can I do the same?
Yes, we are to love children like Jesus does. And we are to love children like we love Jesus. But Matthew 18:3 is saying also: love Jesus like children do. We adults have a long ways to go on this one.
2. R. L. Stollar
I’ve spent hours reading his site already. But perhaps start here, with “Towards a Child Liberation Theology.” Take, for example, just this extraordinary paragraph, that is already beginning to invigorate how I read the Bible:
Child liberation theology thus begins with the Child that is Jesus and the children of all histories and locations who bear God’s image. And it places these children at the center of religious texts. It asks us to consider religious texts from the vantage point of those children — from the vantage point of Jesus as the God Child and all children as God images. Thus we must read our texts from the interpretive lens of these children. Children become the point from which all our exegesis and praxis must begin and end.
He has a great, accessible 8-page PDF called “Child Liberation Theology” that is freely available here.
EDIT: Especially valuable is Dr. Nessan’s summary of the method of liberation theology:
The method of liberation theologies consists of five elements: 1) identification with particular forms of oppression and suffering, 2) prophetic critique of that condition, 3) social analysis of the causes of oppression and suffering, 4) biblical and theological engagement to address that suffering and overcome that oppression, and 5) advocacy of structural change toward a greater approximation of justice.
4. My Children
Perhaps most important of all, I’ve found that as I’ve engaged with child liberation theology recently, I’ve become more likely to be with—and enjoy being with—my own children in an unhurried, unpressured way. How do they know and love God? How do they experience God’s love and talk about it? What insights do they want to share with me? What questions are they asking, and what questions and longings are behind those questions?
Child liberation theology offers hope not just for structures and for the world and for the church, but for individual family relationships. And child liberation theology is a powerful framework—rooted in the words and person of Jesus himself—that God uses to fulfill the glorious promise in Malachi 4:6:
He will turn the hearts of parents to their children and the hearts of children to their parents, so that I will not come and strike the land with a curse.
TW: Abuse, Sexual Assault, Secondary Trauma Caused by Inept Institutions
Given their appalling history of enabling sexual abuse, one would wish Michigan State University would take care to do better than today’s letter firing football coach Mel Tucker.
MSU says it is firing Tucker “for cause.” The cause: sexually harassing a woman who survived sexual violence and was now working with MSU football in her job as an advocate and trainer for sexual violence prevention.
Had you not engaged in this inappropriate and unprofessional conduct, the University would not be subject to public disrespect and ridicule regarding your actions.
There it is—MSU paints itself as the victim. The offense? “Public disrespect and ridicule.”
Here is a missed opportunity to send a message of hope and healing to people who have survived sexual violence. Here is a missed opportunity to name specific behaviors and abuse dynamics and roundly condemn them. MSU needs to be asking: “How can we do right by a woman victimized by our football coach?” and, “How can we do right by all the survivors of sexual violence on our campus?” and, “How can we do right by all those young football players who take abuse prevention seriously?” and, “How can we affirm our commitment to safety and care at MSU?” Instead, it seems they are asking, “How can we save face and protect our university?”
And if the response is that they have to be judicious/cautious/whatever in writing, because they stakes are so high legally, consider: MSU could set a really positive example here by expressing care for those having experienced trauma and by standing against sexual abuse and harassment even while (especially while) under potential threat of a lawsuit. “The time is always right to do what is right.”
Let’s re-center Brenda Tracy, for a moment, whom I quote here because she has willingly gone on the record with USA Today:
The idea that someone could know me and say they understand my trauma but then re-inflict that trauma on me is so disgusting to me, it’s hard for me to even wrap my mind around it. It’s like he sought me out just to betray me.”
So allow me—a lowly blogger, but also a pastor and someone who longs for a world that better loves survivors of sexual violence—allow me to subject Michigan State University to some “public disrespect and ridicule” (better: to call them to repentance), but not for the reasons they have in mind:
MSU should apologize today for expressing more concern about its own reputation than about the impact of Coach Tucker’s abuse.
I came across this powerful description of Jesus this morning:
Jesus, the poor layman turned prophet and teacher, the religious figure from rural Galilee without credentials, met his death in Jerusalem at least in part because of his clash with the rich aristocratic urban priesthood. To the latter, a poor layman from the Galilean countryside with disturbing doctrines and claims was marginal both in the sense of being dangerously antiestablishment and in the sense of lacking a power base in the capital. He could be easily brushed aside into the dust bin of death.
John P. Meier, A Marginal Jew: Rethinking the Historical Jesus, vol. 1: The Roots of the Problem and the Person, p. 9. Quoted in this awesome Richard Hays book. Emphasis mine.
I have been thinking more about intentional discipleship. There are the classic questions of scope and sequence to consider. And the end results: if we are seeking to make disciples of Jesus—in this youth ministry, in this church, in this denomination—what does a disciple look like? What does a disciple know, do, and feel? What are the identity and characteristics of one?
Then there are programmatic questions to answer. How do we walk into the future where these disciples exist? How do we get there? In other words, what is the “discipleship pathway” of our ministry/church/denomination? What is the process we hope people will engage in to grow as disciples of Jesus? Here’s one church’s answer.
Thinking through a pathway for the congregation I pastor, I got excited because I came up with (or thought I came up with) a possible sequence that all starts with the same letter: Gather, Grow, Give, Go.
Once a framework is in place, the real fun begins. What opportunities do we provide to just gather? Worship services, parties, meals, etc. And what settings do we create where we invite people to grow? Membership class, life groups, and so on.
I starting thinking about a discipleship pathway again, because I’m reading a book called 8 Virtues of Rapidly Growing Churches. The authors Matt Miofsky and Jason Byassee make a case for the importance of having a specific, articulated discipleship process. Although the Holy Spirit can do anything, anywhere, any-how, discipleship tends not to just randomly happen:
“One thing rapidly growing churches (RGCs) do is they have a clear and effective discipleship process. Some call it connections, some assimilation, others new members orientation—but the purpose is the same—to help a new guest become a deeply committed follower of Christ. They make this discipleship process transparent for what they want people to do. User friendly, accessible, clear. They don’t shower listeners with a thousand options for nice things they might do. They focus: do this, not that. They keep it simple, often linear. Start with this class. Next join a small group. Finally serve here. Think of the difference between sitting down and eating at the Cheesecake Factory, which famously boasts over 250 different menu options made from scratch, or eating at a cozy French bistro with a prix fixe menu. One offers a dizzying amount of choice; the other leads you through one carefully curated, skillfully crafted, and masterfully presented meal. RGCs act more like the prix fixe restaurant. They work on a simple, effective, and clear process that helps new people become disciples of Jesus. Everything and anything that takes away from that focus is cut. As Matt often puts it, rapidly growing churches are like ducks. They look placid on the water. But underneath they’re paddling like crazy! The work is not so much in getting people in the door. It’s in laying out for those people the next obvious steps to take in being a disciple.”
I realized, too, that a tool I used to use in consulting—the Logic Model—can be powerful here. More on that in a future post.
In the meantime, I’d love to hear in the comments how your ministry, church, denomination, and especially how you think your own life might be following some kind of discernible discipleship “pathway”?
Complicating the process is that I’d imagine most of us look back down the road and see lots of zigs and zags… not quite sure how you “program” for that reality!
I don’t listen to many podcasts, but I started listening to one recently called “Beneath the Surface” from Stripe Press. The podcast is all about infrastructure, and the first episode is about “new cities” or “charter cities,” that is, “new urban developments built almost from scratch through financial investment and political will.”
Here’s the episode description:
Each year, tens of millions of people migrate from rural areas to cities—mostly in emerging economies, where populations are growing faster than governments can create basic infrastructure. To address the challenges of urbanization without industrialization, development experts, economists, and policymakers have proposed solutions spanning from increased immigration to better family planning.
In this episode, we ask: could charter cities—a model inspired by the successes of places like Singapore and Shenzhen—be a path to accelerating growth in emerging economies?
The actually sustainable ideas about city-building really show up in the last 10 minutes of the episode, but the whole thing was interesting to hear, especially about the development of Nkwashi in Zambia.
For any of us who write, curate, or teach curriculum, it’s good to remember that what we usually call “curriculum” is just one of (at least) four kinds of curricula that shape all of us.
In one footnote, authors Gary A. Parrett and S. Steve Kang talk about three kinds of curriculum:
explicit curriculum: this includes documentation around vision, the scope and sequence of teaching curriculum, and what we hope students will be, know, feel, and do.
implicit curriculum: I think of this as not just what’s formally “taught” but what’s “caught.” It’s the ethos or environment that a person feels as they encounter the explicit curriculum. Implicit curriculum includes the actions (culture) that “speak louder than words.”
null curriculum: this is what we don’t teach. Better, it’s: “what a teaching institution chooses not to teach at all” (my emphasis). If what we teach is a choice, so is what we don’t teach. Parrett and Kang quote Elliot W. Eisner: “Ignorance is not simply a neutral void; it has important effects on the kinds of options one is able to consider, the alternatives that one can examine, and the perspectives from which one can view a situation or problems.”
To consider one example of null curriculum: trauma responses may not make sense to someone who is not trauma-informed, so if something like “trauma and its effects” or “where Jesus is present in trauma” are not in a church’s explicit curriculum, they are now null curriculum, and a student may not have robust categories and language to process difficult events.
I’d add a #4 to the above three kinds of curriculum.
The church doesn’t do spiritual formation in a vacuum. So we also want to ask: what is the external curriculum all our people are already being formed by, in their other 160+ hours/week?
There is family, greater society, school, friends, advertising, media, etc. But this “curriculum” is only “external” from the vantage point of the church. These character-shaping forces move from external to internal for all of us. We have an internalized curriculum that has formed and is forming us. And we each bring our formed self to any event, group, gathering, or relationship where explicit curriculum is present. There are no blank slates.
As a full-time vocational minister for 20+ years, knee-deep in the life of a church or Christian community for 40+ hours a week, I’ve tended to focus on #1 and #2—explicit and implicit curriculum.
That’s necessary, but I’m realizing it’s not enough. I want to pay more attention to null curriculum and external curriculum.
Even in strategic planning and documenting discipleship pathways, how can we take into account all four of these kinds of curricula?
As we go about learning and growing in the faith, we can ask: what areas have we missed, glossed over, or refused to engage in (null curriculum)? Are there things we Christians need to un-learn, or re-learn? What other lived contexts do we need to take more seriously as we do spiritual formation (external curriculum)?
And—most important—how does the good news of Jesus speak into all of the contexts that shape us?
Attending to more than just explicit and implicit curriculum requires more creative thinking and deeper work, but the result—more fully formed disciples of Jesus— is worth it.
While I still think all those categories are relevant, I’ve been thinking in simpler terms lately:
Culture = Behavior
That’s it! Culture = Behavior.
This idea comes from the awesome Manager Tools podcast, that I have listened to since the days of my early blog.
They put it this way:
“Culture is nothing more than the sum total of all the behaviors of all of the people in your organization.”
Culture = Behavior.
And behaviors come from specific people.
More from Manager Tools:
“We managers are the guardians of an organization’s culture, because we can see and hear the individual behaviors that make up its culture. The organization’s leaders… really can only proclaim, pronounce, educate, tout… and they can hopefully set an example. The key is: managers are the ones who make culture happen by communicating about effective vs. ineffective behaviors.”
And:
“As managers, as leaders, we have to do what we can with what we’ve got. And the way we can do that is at a behavioral level, where the results (are what) matter anyway.”
Of course, an organization has its own life, more than just “the sum total” of its parts. This is why the Yankees (and the Red Sox, for that matter) still can’t buy their way to a World Series. Systems dynamics matter.
But something as amorphous as “culture change” comes much sharper into focus when considering that culture change = behavior change.
So the leader looking to preserve organizational culture can ask: what specific behaviors are working well for us, creating this irresistible environment, and advancing our mission? And the leader can find specific actors who practice those behaviors, to hold them up as examples.
Similarly, the leader looking to improve organizational culture can ask: what specific behaviors are hurting us, creating this harmful environment, and working against our mission? And the leader can address those specific behaviors and actors, starting with one-on-one conversations.
Mobilizing others (and ourselves) for behavior change is still hard work. But at least it’s more specific than the more intimidating “culture change.”
Click on the thumbnail above for a short reflection I shared with the church I pastor. It’s something important–but easy to overlook–that happened before Jesus fed 5,000+ people.
Great little book I’m reading: Misbelief: What Makes Rational People Believe Irrational Things. Chapter 1’s title poses a question: “How Could That Person Believe That Thing?” It’s a question I’ve asked many times. Including a question that—to be fair—I’ve tried to interrogate myself with.
Words on the Word 