The Slow Way: Lent, Vulnerability, and Coming Back to the Essential

Those of us who get to see underneath the false allure of human achievement and power mongering are invited to a vulnerable way of living in the world. Jesus called it the Kingdom of God.

for the frantic strivers, serial doers, and weary achievers

The past two weeks at church, my pastor Michael Rudzena has preached about the ways Jesus destabilized the people he encountered. The disciples would experience a miracle and try to stay in that place of magic. They watched Jesus at the Transfiguration: elevated and coated in glory beside the great leaders of the Jewish people—Moses and Elijah. But when Peter wanted that moment to be formalized, to make a holy structure so it would never need to end, the Holy Spirit moved over the moment—a cloud passing through–-leaving only Jesus. As my pastor put it, the cloud worked to distill the moment “into the one thing that matters.” 

Over and over this happens for Jesus and his followers. The disciples praised the architecture of the Temple and Jesus told them that pretty soon the stones of the temple would be torn down.  The disciples would leverage something good for power, make something beautiful into something ultimate, and Jesus shook that up every time. He continually went around destabilizing things the folks around him clung to for security. Essentially he was unsettling them so he could put them right again. “Stripping away the nonessentials so that what is essential can emerge,” Michael said.

This is what we’re asking the season of Lent to do—allowing the comforts and distractions of our lives to be decentered so that we give the Spirit free reign to recenter us. 

I spent this weekend in San Diego with my cohosts of The Lucky Few, a podcast that exists to shout the worth of people living with Down syndrome and shift narratives around disability. We had a live show Friday night celebrating an important milestone in the life of our little podcast. And of course we dressed in matchy Easter egg colored suits. It was fun and silly because Heather, Mercedes and I are incapable of not being silly when we’re together. We share a kind of back and forth that delights us to no end. We always hope our listeners are having at least a portion of the fun we’re having. But the night was beautiful mostly because it was authentic. This is a thing about the Down syndrome community I sometimes have a hard time putting into words. 

To love someone who is disabled is to put oneself in a space of vulnerability. There’s no way around it. Disability by its very definition is a more difficult path than what is typical. And while those of us who love someone with a disability can’t know what it is to live in a disabled body, we can understand how love exposes our own vulnerability. Love always makes us vulnerable. And parenting someone who lives vulnerably in the world increases that exposure, edging us closer to the truth of the world’s pain. 

Whenever I’m in a room of people whose lives have been transformed by loving someone who experiences disability, the space feels unique, tender. Disability destabilizes the status quo. Its presence forces those who encounter it to decenter what isn’t true so that what is most real can emerge. 

I think that’s why I have found parenting Ace to be such a gift: He has been a shortcut to seeing the world’s shiny pretenses for what they are. He has helped me learn to see the really real underneath what my pastor called “the nonessentials.” 

There’s a reason Jesus made people uncomfortable. There’s a reason Jesus was executed by the state. We humans don’t like to be destabilized. We don’t like to have our vulnerabilities exposed. And, still, those of us who get to see underneath the false allure of human achievement and power mongering are invited to a different way of living in the world. Jesus called it the Kingdom of God. Stephanie Spellers calls it the dream of God. Richard Rohr calls it the really real. 

This is the invitation I write about in Blessed Are The Rest of Us. When we see the world as it really is we get to live in such a way that our vulnerabilities are exposed. Vulnerability is the way we give and receive love. Vulnerability is also the way toward pain.  

After the live podcast recording, I had the chance to talk to a few different women, moms of kids living with a dual diagnosis of Down syndrome and autism. Our kids with a dual diagnosis are on a journey that can look very different than most Down syndrome stories, and that can feel isolating. I was reminded of this when a couple of moms thanked me for sharing my story, for helping them and their children feel seen. I have only been able to share my story because I first learned to embrace the ache of my own longings, my own vulnerabilities. This is the great work of God in and through my love for Ace: in the ache I move toward wholeness. 

This is not anything new in the world. It’s simply love—sharing our lives, being honest about our pain, and allowing ourselves to be decentered and recentered. We don’t do it so we can be an example. But when we do it with authentic generosity, we can sometimes be an invitation for others.

That’s what I hope for us in this Lenten season. Vulnerability that destabilizes the status quo. Love that recenters us in the really real. That we may live the tender way of Jesus.

A Slow Practice

Let’s practice holding our own tenderness. When I say in my new book’s subtitle that limits and longing makes us whole, I’m talking about this kind of vulnerability. When we are honest about the reality of our limits and the aches of our lives, there is a kind of inner alchemy that takes place. 

Today’s slow practice is a crafty one, so get a piece of paper and any type of drawing tools you have. All is acceptable! Markers, crayons, pencils. 

Take your sheet of paper and draw an outline of yourself. It can be as basic or complicated as you like! Leave space in the center of yourself for some words. 

Now, in the chest of your person, write three longings in your life. This can be a big relational longing: some kind of transformation in a relationship you value, the healing of someone you love, a hoped for future, a career you’re working toward. Your longing could also be a social longing: You may be feeling the distress of this upcoming election cycle. You may be enraged on behalf of the displaced and malnourished Palestinian people struggling in desperate conditions. You may be longing for leaders to take climate change seriously. You may have a longing that feels unknowable to you, but is ever present. 

Write these things across your sketched person’s chest, then take scissors and cut their body out of the page. Then put that little version of yourself somewhere that you can see it: your bathroom mirror, in a book you open daily, on the nightstand, on the fridge. And whenever you see it this week, practice saying this prayer: Oh Lord, look with kindness on my tender longings. 

That’s it. We will pay attention to our longings, and we will allow ourselves to be loved by God in the midst of them. And hopefully, as we do so, we will practice being tender with ourselves.

I can’t think of a more generous way to pray. 

A Note:

We’re getting closer and closer to the April release of my new book Blessed Are the Rest of Us: How Limits and Longing Make Us Whole. You can preorder the book right now at Baker Book House, where it’s 40% off the price of other booksellers. The first 200 preorders over there will receive a signed copy and a super fun temporary “The Lucky Few” tattoo!

I am still putting together both virtual and in-person speaking engagements this spring as I plan my book launch. If your church or community might be interested in hosting my “Embracing Our Limits, Discovering Our Wholeness” workshop, either virtually or in person, reach out at michaboyett@gmail.com. I would love to make it available to you and your people!

If you are a paid subscriber or are thinking about becoming a paid subscriber, this might be the moment to do so! I’m planning a weekly, free virtual book club that I’l be offering my paid subscribers this spring. We’ll be walking through the book together! It’ll be super fun. Sign up to be a paid subscriber here at Slow Waysters.