Understanding

peak generation fallacy – the unnamed perspective keeping us apart

| Kimberly Smith

George Orwell is quoted as saying, “Each generation imagines itself more intelligent than the one that went before it and wiser than the one coming after.”

That checks out, right? Every generation reading this is probably thinking, “well, at least it’s true of MY generation!”

This is known as peak generation fallacy. The notion that we can all unthinkingly fall to the belief that somehow the particular generation we are part of is the one that has cracked the code! We’re the ones that have solved the problems generations before didn’t seem able to and accumulated wisdom well beyond that which our succeeding generations might ever attain.

As with most default positions or theses, it is founded in elements of truth. Every generation adds knowledge, adds technological advancements, adds research and understandings that mean we become (or have the potential to become) exponentially smarter. A simple proof of this is the recognition that right now on our hand held devices we have access to more information than our predecessors had in their entire lifetime.

Likewise, there’s definitely potential for the older generations to be wiser than the emerging generations. It is based on the assumption that the longer we live, the wiser we become, which must be tempered by the truism that living longer doesn’t necessarily make you wiser. Having more life experience and experiences doesn’t automatically make one wiser. It’s our capacity for reflection and analysis that grows us in wisdom.

Anyway you look at it, to whatever degree it may be actual, peak generation fallacy can be a default posture. And, as with any behavioural pattern or tendency, it will only be as effective as it is challenged and interrogated to be sure that it is true and serving us.

While we are believing ourselves to be more intelligent than our elders, we may create a gap of empathy, partnership or consideration between us and them and deprive ourselves of the unique knowledge and perspective they do possess. And while we believe ourselves to be more wise than emerging generations, we may be inclined to write them off, disregard their perspectives, and distance ourselves from them and they from our ability to mentor and encourage them.

Alternatively, if we embrace the idea that each new generation may be more intelligent than the one that went before, then that should inform how more established generations engage with emerging ones. We would be well served to consider the knowledge, information, skills, and perspectives younger generations have acquired. We might in fact, find satisfaction in seeing them go further to greater discoveries and efficiencies, launched and resourced by the learning and equipping of we who’ve gone before. What might it look like for us to perceive emerging generations differently? Through the lens of expectation that, fuelled by awareness of broader fields of study and research, access to larger pools of data and analysis of experimentation, they may indeed be able to teach us new things. What abiding knowledge might we offer to synergize with their new learning? How might our businesses our ministries, our families, our groups and teams be enhanced by intentionally seeking the learning of the emerging generation?

Likewise, if we are to truly consider that established generations are potentially wiser than those that are emerging, what is our own posture to the generations who have gone ahead of us? How do we seek to harvest, retain and leverage the wisdom of older generations? What intention would help to keep us from defaulting to our own wisdom and disregarding the well-won wisdom of our elders? How do we ensure that useful insight, thoughtfulness, discernment, and reflection aren’t lost to us – causing us to busy ourselves with reinventing wheels? How do we help our established generations continue in meaningful contribution despite the changing landscape and their changed life stage?

It’s called a fallacy for a reason – it’s incorrect to assume ourselves wiser or more intelligent based purely on our generational position. But while this tendency is unidentified or unnamed it can remain unaddressed even though it can be creating unnecessary and unhelpful generational divide.

What’s your take away? Where do you see this playing out in your work place, your church or organization; your family? What biases do you need to address in yourself? How might you challenge the drift to this thinking in order to champion healthy intergenerational engagement and valuing?

curiosity breeds connection – the power of empathy

| Kimberly Smith

When I was a young girl, I wrote poetry. Instead of journaling, I recorded all of my teenage angst and emotions in prose – book after book, page after page, pouring out my heart. I reflected on relationships and events, narrating life as I observed it. I’ve kept some of those books, although I’m not entirely sure why, since (for the most part) I have no intention of ever releasing them for anyone to read.

One particular entry, written by 15 year old Kimmy, was a bumbling attempt to process my emotions after experiencing a broken heart. I can remember very clearly the boy, the relationship, the experience. I had fallen hard, and we were as deeply invested as teenagers can be – but the relationship had come to an end.

The final line of the poem says: “People tell me to get on with my life, but he was my life.”

Could it get any more dramatic? Kimmy was clearly feeling the full depths of love lost and trying to navigate the emotional minefield and social implications of breaking up. He was my life! I have no doubt that in that moment, it felt like a true statement.

However, on the next page – dated the very next day – there was a new poem, written about a different boy! It opened with the line: “He smiled at me today.” It would appear the broken heart had recovered – and if not completely mended, had at least been distracted enough for the attention of another boy to become poem-worthy. It’s a mildly embarrassing snapshot and memory, but very real in the moment. And I dare say, a realistic capture of me in my teenage years.

That moment was decades ago now, in a very different time. If 15 year old Kimmy were navigating life today, experiencing those same emotions, the same devastation, the same yo-yoing of feelings and the same immaturity – but in an era of internet, devices and social media – I am completely certain that it all would have been plastered across my various accounts and apps.

I would have been sharing without caution or consideration of the implications – using social media as a place to vent and process my feelings. In a culture of sharing, high visibility and low filters, I doubt my level of emotional intelligence would have risen above that of any other teenager. The whole story would have been public for everyone to see. Opening myself up to the scrutiny and commentary of peers whose prefrontal cortexes were no more developed than my own.

I’m sure many would have expressed sympathy – maybe even a few sad face emojis – but then, when I shared my miraculous recovery and redirection of affection the next day, those same peers would have judged and commented again. I would have opened myself up to all kinds of criticism, and to the stories others might tell about me – about my choices, my character, my responses. All of it public. Exposed. Vulnerable.

I am eternally grateful that the era I was raised in means I just have a single copy of my handwritten words, sealed in a diary, in a box, hidden in my garage – rather than a digital footprint with a public audience and content no longer in my control.

That small vignette – this snapshot of my teenage years – compared to what life might be like if I were a teenager today, moves me to the deepest empathy for what young people face now. That one story alone makes me ache for the challenges and complexities teenagers must navigate in our current culture.

I am 100% convinced that 15 year old Kimmy would not have handled social media well. That she wouldn’t have had the maturity to make good choices about what to share or with whom. She would have been highly susceptible to the comments, likes and views of others – an my teenage years were hard enough without that!

When you think about your teenage self, what do you imagine you would have been like if social media existed back then? Not how you’d use it today – but how the teenage you would have used it.

That’s the point of empathy. That’s how we are able to empathetically engage with what young people are facing today.

Emerging generations need our empathy. They need our empathetic responses.

Emerging generations need our empathy.

Empathy is the posture of seeking first to understand – desiring to fully know the experience of another in order to appreciate their perspective and support, encourage, and connect with them. Empathy moves us to question and inquire. It calls us to find a place of commonality in our shared human experience, even if that life is lived differently – in another environment, culture, era, or set of social norms.

The opposite of empathy is judgement.

Judgement comes more effortlessly. It’s easy to criticize what we don’t understand – to observe behaviour, response, decisions, and actions, and to draw conclusions rather than be drawn to curiosity.

The opposite of empathy is judgement.

Any time we find ourselves saying things like “those young people” or “they always” or, the classic “in my day…”, we’re perpetuating a generational gap that will ultimately cause us to lose our voice and influence.

A desire to understand will lead to far more fruitful engagement with young people. When we give them space to share their perspectives, priorities, and worldview, we nurture the kind of connection that opens doors. Allowing us to be trusted advisors and helpers.

Empathy is a muscle that must be exercised.

It’s a discipline we must choose, again and again, if we’re to stay within hearing distance of others. A posture of empathy means that moments of misunderstanding, confusion, or even exasperation become doorways – opportunities for greater connection – if we engage curiosity instead of criticism.

Empathy is a muscle that must be exercised.

“I just don’t understand young people” becomes “Help me understand.”

Tell me more!
What do I need to know about how the world feels for you?
What would help you feel that I understand enough to be trusted – to be helpful – to be a voice of wisdom gained from my lived experience?
How might you come to believe that I am coming from a place of care and understanding? That my desire is for you to flourish and live the best version of life possible.

The challenge is clear for all of us. The next time we hear ourselves or others making sweeping statements or generalisations about young people, might we pause – suspend judgement – and seek first to understand.

I remember enough about being 15 to recall how certain I was that adults didn’t understand me or the age I was living in. I rejected advice, dismissed opinions, and scoffed at how out of touch old people were with life as I knew it. Young people today are no different. They are no more mature, no more cognitively or emotionally developed. The teenage brain is not just a smaller version of an adult one. Its chemistry and biology are entirely different.

Perhaps it starts with replacing statements with questions. I’m sure it starts with suspending judgement and conclusions. And we will most likely face resistance and hesitation. But each attempt – each expression of curiosity and a desire to understand – builds relational trust and maintains proximity. That proximity allows us to be of greatest value to young people: in life, in faith, in decision-making, in protecting their hearts. And ultimately, in setting them up to win.

I’m in my writing era

| Kimberly Smith

Today marks the start of some Long Service Leave I’ve taken with the intention of doing some writing.

It’s been ten years since I published my book and in recent months/years my regular writing practices have been somewhat thwarted. By self-doubt, negative internalized-external voices, by life and all its things! But today is the day I’ve been mentally and emotionally preparing for, anticipating, dreading, praying and seeking counsel about, fearing, hoping, worrying, and getting excited for. It’s here!

There are new chapters to add to the original book ahead of a reprint (the print run was exhausted quite a while ago!). There are some blogs and reading plans/devotionals just waiting to be put to paper and published. And there’s another book to write … maybe more than one? As always, there is no shortage of ideas or ministry imagination and opportunity.

As anyone aspiring to the work of writing will tell you, it’s an undertaking fraught with self-doubt, discouragement, and fear. There’s something so permanent about written words – especially published ones! For someone who speaks, shares, studies, and converses for a living (& a hobby!) I can find myself alarmingly hesitant. Who wants to read this anyway? What would I know? Do people already know *this*? Who am I kidding? Who am I to think these words need capturing let alone sharing? On and on in an endless loop.

For me, writing is a stewardship. A belief that entrusted to me are perspectives, insights, wisdom, stories, and language that God would have me share for more than just me. “When God gives you a message, it’s for ministry” is something my friend Suzie said to me that pushed me over the edge to actually begin writing my first book. He doesn’t teach me just for me. He doesn’t encourage me just for me. He doesn’t gift me with the heart and capacity to discern, unpack, and articulate just for my edification.

Stewardship requires that I write. Trust makes me pick up my pen. Faith gives me expectancy for fruitfulness. History reminds me of God’s faithfulness to use my offerings for His purposes and glory.

And with that, the writing season is officially open!

there’s no such thing as constructive criticism

| Kimberly Smith

“Can I just give you some constructive criticism?”

You’ve heard that, you’ve probably said it. But the truth is, constructive criticism doesn’t exist!

Giving hard feedback is hard. When it falls on us to be the ones to tell someone they’ve not met the mark in some way, it’s not a pleasant feeling. We anticipate the disappointment or even defensiveness of the receiver and we reach for language that in some way might soften the blow.

Constructive criticism.

These words are opposites of one another. To be constructive is to seek to build up, but criticism is the act of review for the purpose of finding fault (read : to tear down). Critique is a more neutral or positive word but it is different to criticism.

In fact, science tells us that the use of this phrase confuses the brain of the receiver. When you say “I have some constructive criticism for you”, the brain of the listener is conflicted – constructive or critical? Friend of foe? Safety or threat? So, the body’s systems elevate to process the confusion of what is happening in their brains. As you can imagine, this does not create the most receptive environment for whatever challenging conversation might follow.

Ultimately, the phrase “constructive criticism” is used to make ourselves, the giver of the feedback, feel better. Like somehow in framing our thoughts as constructive criticism we might more adequately prepare the receiver for a difficult conversation. Perhaps in that phrase is an attempt to communicate to the receiver that we are sensitive to the potential wounding or disappointment our words might carry.

It might seem semantic to make a big deal of such a nuance. But a healthy feedback culture is built on relational trust and emotional safety. For feedback to be beneficial and edifying it must happen in the best possible context – where anything that might impede the productivity of such a conversation is sought to be removed. (Don’t do it when they/you are tired or rushed. Don’t do it publicly. Don’t do it when emotions are elevated. Etc) This simple nuance of language might achieve two outcomes. Firstly, not adding psychological confusion to the other thought processes required in a feedback interaction. And secondly, forcing us as givers of feedback to be more considered in our approach, not excusing ourselves from doing the work to find better language and deliver feedback in the most helpful way.

Further reading

let me give you some feedback

how to ask for feedback 2of4

how to GIVE feedback 3of4

how to RECEIVE feedback 4of4

Story stacking vs I-jacking

| Kimberly Smith

Recently, I was having dinner with a group of friends when the conversation led to stories about Zoom. One person recounted a hilarious tale of a woman changing into her pyjamas in full view of the online prayer meeting! And we were away! Each of us was firing off other funny stories we’d seen or experienced. One after the other, not stopping from the laughter of the previous one before the next one began. It was loud and entertaining and our sides hurt from laughing.

This is story stacking and it’s so fun! Whether it’s stories about poo or vomit (everyone has a poo or vomit story!) or sharing favourite ice cream flavours or recalling funny incidents that happened on public transport … the energy is high as stories ping around the group. Each one prompting the recall of another, sometimes with a competitive edge as the tales get taller and more dramatic!

On another occasion, in a group of people, we were talking more seriously about the difference between those people who are expert and highly knowledgeable in their field and those who have the capacity to convey that intelligence to others in helpful ways. I reflected on a really difficult experience I’d had with an ultrasound technician. He had to inform me that I had miscarried early in a pregnancy and he did it in such a cold and callous way. It made an already terrible situation just that little bit harder. Straight away another person jumped to a story of when they needed an X-ray and started to recount their experience.

This is I-jacking. This is when, in response to one person’s sharing, we leap straight away to something that is about us. Or when, no matter the subject of conversation, we manoeuvre the focus back to ourselves or what we want to talk about. Sometimes it’s harmless. It could be an acceptable story stacking situation. But lots of times it’s really unproductive to healthy communication. It can shut someone down. It can dishonor a person’s sharing. It can diminish a person’s experience. It can communicate disinterest in others. It can make you a bad conversationalist! Or, as in my example above, it can actually be quite hurtful. To raise something personal or vulnerable and not have it acknowledged before the conversation moves on to someone or something else.

Story stacking or I-Jacking. One can draw all present into a dynamic social interaction. And the other? Well, that makes you a less appealing conversation partner and is probably not you putting your best foot forward relationally.

So, the trick is knowing how to spot a story stacking moment and how to avoid I-jacking (intentionally or otherwise). It’s a nuanced business but, generally, a story stacking moment is about light hearted or objective things. Like funny Zoom stories or tales of wardrobe malfunctions. If the topics are more personal, deep or reflective, or are initiated by the serious questioning of someone in the group – that’s not the time for story stacking. We must hold space for an individual to share fully and be responded to appropriately.

Story stacking is possibly the one sport I could medal in at an Olympic level! I love it! I love hearing other people’s fun stories. I have so many great stories (that I often forget about until someone else shares and prompts a memory) and I love me a good story tell! And then I love – perhaps the most – how my storytelling might prompt someone else to contribute and get to participate in the “collective effervescence” of a group deep in storytelling mode. But I recognise (first in others which made me question it in myself) that story stacking can so easily come across as I-Jacking if the initial story teller was hoping for the chance to say more or go deeper. It looks like attention stealing. It looks like disrespect. It can communicate a lack of welcome or inclusion.

ASK ONE QUESTION!

This is my social trigger, the mantra I’m repeating (or at least trying to remember to repeat) in my head while you’re speaking. Don’t jump straight in with an anecdote or a solution or a story of my own. Hold the space for the speaker just a little longer. “When did that happen?” “Why is that?”“How do you feel about that?” “What happened next?” “Does anyone have this on video?”

So often, when we are listening to others speak we’re looking for points of intersection. We are naturally wired to desire inclusion and connection so we’re trying to find our place in the topic that’s being discussed. Someone says “I really loved my holiday in Italy!” And our first thought might be to say “oh, I went there in 2019!” or, alternatively, to immediately highlight the disconnect “yeah, I’ve never been to Europe” or perhaps even more tempting “oh, I’ve been there twice now!”. In any of those responses, we’ve just made the conversation about us.

Ask one question. It’s a form of social discipline to train ourselves to stay with the speaker just that little bit longer – to value them, to learn about them, to be equipped to understand them better. Often, in the speaker’s response to that second opportunity you can gauge how desiring they are of a further chance to engage or how willing (or hopeful) they are for the conversation to bounce on around the group.

Story stacking or I-jacking. Watch for it around you, watch for it in you. Becoming more alert to the more appropriate conversation genre will increase your social intelligence and make sure you’re the one people want to be seated next to at the dinner parties!

I’m still an extrovert – the immutable truths of energy source

| Kimberly Smith

It’s been said, mostly by me, that I put the ‘extra’ in extrovert.

Extroversion and introversion are descriptors of energy source and direction. A simple analogy is that extroverts are solar powered and introverts are battery powered. That is, extroverts source their energy externally – from the social and relational stimulation of others. Introverts source and direct their energy more internally. They are recharged by being in more quiet, low-stimulus environments – most preferably alone.

The categorisations of extroversion vs introversion were a helpful discovery for me as I moved into my young adult years. They were informative as I sought a greater depth of self-awareness and understanding, and have proved extremely useful in life and leadership as I’ve worked alongside others. Knowing which you are is essential for your self-management and well being. Consistently operating outside of your natural disposition will see you depleted and ultimately dysfunctional – emotionally, physically and relationally.

It’s a function of adulting and maturing and participating in the world that we learn to manage our natural disposition with the demands and realities of life. Emotionally intelligent introverts realise that they need to be with at least some people for some of the time – family, colleagues, strangers at the supermarket. That we are built for relationship and cooperation. That the company of others and what they bring to our lives is essential for growth and flourishing. That part of exercising our humanity finds its expression in serving and contributing to the lives of others. Emotionally intelligent extroverts realise that being comfortable in one’s own company is an essential part of growth and self-acceptance. That the practices of solitude and silence are useful for reflection and mindfulness. That social stimulation is no replacement for physical rest which is necessary for revitalisation and renewal.

However, any amount of adaptation and intentionality will not override the fundamental truth of where a person’s energy is sourced. We don’t “grow out” of extroversion or introversion. We just find ways to manage our needs in less preferred environments.

Case study – me.

I am a raging extrovert! I am energised by human interaction. The more energised the interaction the more energised I am! While I don’t mind larger, anonymous groups, I’m more fuelled by social interactions that are personal, robustly engaging, stimulating and soul nourishing.

A friend once compared me to her peace lily. The peace lily is a plant and you know when to water one because its leaves start to droop and curl. Give her a drink and her stems will straighten up and leaves unfurl – almost before your eyes. That’s what I’m like with human interaction. People who know me well can tell from 20 paces when I’ve been on my own – my leaves are droopy! Instead of exuding energy and effervescence I radiate ‘flatness’ – like I’ve pulled a few all-nighters in a row! Friends also know that with even the smallest spritzes of the life-giving water of positive human interaction I will come to life before your eyes. You will feel like a magician for the radical turnaround you were able to conjure with just your words and presence!

As someone who has lived much of my adult life alone, sourcing the requisite people interactions to fuel me has always been challenging. Extroversion energy (like introversion energy) doesn’t store well. It requires constant replenishing – which requires constant social exchanges. A large pool of people resource is required in order to account for the number of introverts who will be needing less people time and also the reality that other people have their own lives and calendars to manage.

As a younger person, this drive for externally sourced energy masked as some sort of social animal who couldn’t sit still, stay home or miss out. Over the years, as I learned and understood more, I recognised that physically my body needed rest, stillness, sleep and down time. I’ve grown to appreciate the slow and relaxed – and even the quiet. But these things do not energise me. The reality of energy sourcing is that while my body and mind might benefit from alone time, I am emotionally deenergised by it. It’s a truth that can’t be outgrown or outmanaged.

Navigating this extended season of lockdowns and isolation, working from home, travel restrictions and all manner of limitations has been hard for everyone for a range of reasons. As an extrovert, the reduction of opportunities for live social interactions has been life-draining! While the utilisation of online communication platforms has been a life-saver, there are times when I still can go multiple days without speaking to an in real life adult person.

As I’ve repeatedly bumped into the worst parts of myself – impatience, intolerance, lack of motivation and discipline, reduced creativity and productivity, loneliness, aimlessness and even depression – I found myself increasingly unable to straighten up; to self-correct. “I can do better than this, what am I not doing better than this?” And while myself and others made passing reference to the fact that my current lifestyle and experience wasn’t conducive to extroversion, this was my reality, these were the tools I had, there has to be a way!

So, here’s my revelation and ever deepening conviction – there is no ‘cure’ for extroversion. There’s no sustainable work around. There’s not enough duct tape and stick-to-itiveness to hold it all together before some sort of external assistance is required. This is energy-source facts. It is what it is.

In some ways, this news was deeply disappointing. I guess I was hopeful to discover an alternate energy source that could be self-generated and subsequently self-replenishing. It would be simpler for me if connection to other humans was more optional than essential. The depth of my reliance on other people makes me intensely vulnerable. I need others, most likely disproportionately to how much they need me. (Read more here your single friends need you (probably more than you need them))

Conversely, the discovery was strangely freeing. It gives me permission to feel the lack and grieve it. This is not a deficiency but a reality. It reminds me to tread lightly in my own life in terms of expectations and demands when I’m operating out of a depleted tank. It may helps others around me recognise the valuable offering they can make to my well-being. It doesn’t excuse the times I show up in disappointing ways but it possibly explains some of it. It turns certain behaviours or feelings into the trigger to more intentionally seek out the company and energising of others.

EXTROVERTS – what do YOU think? How does your extroversion play out in your life?

INTROVERTS – does this ring true on the other end of the spectrum? Does identifying the source of your energy help diagnose and manage your own life experience?

bridges, wineskin and armour (images of an unknown future)

| Kimberly Smith

In my previous blog, THE RIVER HAS MOVED, we saw the profound image of the Choluteca Bridge in Honduras. When Hurricane Mitch came through the area in 1998, the resultant flooding washed away the roads to the bridge and, when the waters receded, the Choluteca river had changed its course. It no longer flowed under the bridge rather had charted a new path alongside it. The bridge was left structurally sound but with no function. It didn’t bridge anything anymore.

As we find ourselves in the emerging stages of life after (and with) Covid, the Choluteca Bridge can serve as a metaphor for what many of us might be facing. The river has moved. Things have changed. Not everything is where we left it back at the start of 2020 when we found ourselves rapidly responding to the impacts on our work, family, communities, ministries and organisations as the pandemic swept the globe.

My writing ended with two questions

  1. How has the ‘river moved’ in your life, family, organisation, work, or ministry?
  2. What might you need to do differently as a result?

In this blog I want to offer two further metaphors or imagery as we consider our response to these questions.

NEW WINESKINS

In Mark 2:22, Jesus says shares this metaphor “No one pours new wine into old wineskins. Otherwise, the wine will burst the skins, and both the wine and the wineskins will be ruined. No, they pour new wine into new wineskins.”

Historically, wineskins were made from the hide of an animal, such as a goat. Partially fermented wine was stored in them. As the fermentation process continued it would produce gas that expanded the wineskin and stretched it. After the wine was consumed, to try and repeat this process using the same wineskin would be impossible as the hide was not elastic enough to stretch a second time. Instead, the fermentation process would likely split or pop the wineskin.

There are many ways this metaphor can apply to our lives – Biblical scholars often speak of the need to create new structures and new institutions, to not be rigid in holding to patterns and processes of the past but to be flexible, adaptable and stretch-able like new wineskins. But we must also acknowledge the challenge that Jesus was bringing not just to structures and systems but to us! To people’s hearts and minds. That we would submit ourselves to be new vessels for God’s mission and work. That we would be positioned ready to sustain future growth and change, elastic enough to allow for His Spirit to stretch and shape and mould us.

UNDERSTANDING THE TIMES

The Biblical story of David and Goliath is well-known. The Israelites, under King Saul, were in a battle with the neighbouring Philistine army which has been going for about 40 days and was at a bit of a standstill. The Philistines had a giant on their side (like, a literal giant who was over 9 feet tall!) and he was big, loud, strong and scary! He could lift more in a single battle weapon than most of the Israelite army guys weighed! He had been taunting and intimidating the Israelites to come and fight him. The prize was that the winner would have the entire losing nation as their servants. The Israelites were so scared they were going to lose and the people of God would go into servitude that they didn’t even send anyone to try and fight him.

David is a young boy who comes to the battle line to bring food for his older brothers. He’s not a soldier. He hears Goliath mocking and ridiculing the Israelites and he’s wondering why the people of God are so afraid. “I can do this! God has rescued and protected me in the past – he can surely equip me to beat this guy!” (You’ve gotta believe the Israelites were feeling slightly mocked and taunted from within at this point! The teenage boy, David, had more faith than all of them put together!)

King Saul approves David going to fight Goliath and the Biblical account tells us that “Saul dressed David in his own tunic. He put a coat of armour on him and a bronze helmet on his head. David fastened on his sword over the tunic and tried walking around, because he was not used to them. “I cannot go in these,” he said to Saul, “because I am not used to them.” So, he took them off.” (1 Sam 17:38-39

The picture here is of a still-developing young boy with an ill-fitting armour. Perhaps the helmet wobbled on his head and fell in his eyes and the breastplate reached to below his knees. They would have been weighty and cumbersome. Not what he was used to wearing out in the field as a shepherd, and not something he felt comfortable to wear to battle.

Physically and metaphorically, Saul’s armour was the old while David is a picture of the new. David was a new kind of warrior preparing for a different kind of battle. We know that in the end David took Goliath out with a well-executed swing of his sling shot – hitting Goliath between the eyes – the only unprotected part of his body. Felling him and allowing David to come close enough to execute him with his own sword (with the fairly gruesome detail of chopping his head off that is usually rushed over in the kids books and definitely not included in the illustrations!).

If God is doing a new thing, if we are looking to new frontiers, to different parameters of war, to a whole different battle ground – the old armour might not do the job.

As we look ahead to 2022 and beyond, we need to consider a whole new way of facing what lies before us. What has changed? How have dynamics altered? What new strategies and ways of thinking does it require of us? Might the old armour not only not serve purpose (after all, David didn’t need to protect himself from anything, did he?) but might it actually impede future progress? I can’t imagine David’s rock slinging might have been so on target if his helmet was slipping from his head and the heavy tunic was restricting the movement of his arms.

In 1 Chronicles 12, we see an older David who is king-in-waiting while the wheels are starting to fall off Saul’s Kingship. A band of men begin to assemble around David. All sorts of groups offering various battle equipment and fighting skills. Then, in verse 32, there were 200 chiefs from Issachar. The description of their contribution is that “they understood the times and they knew what Israel should do”.

As important as any tactical or practical offering is the ability to see what’s happening and respond accordingly. To know the lay of the land. Who is the opposition, what are our assets, what’s the goal, what’s the best strategy, what’s changed, what’s required, who is best, how is best, when is best?

QUESTIONS

And so we add to our previous question as we consider what we might need to do differently as a result of the changes that have taken place around us.

  1. What are we doing to allow God to renew and refresh us to be receptacles of the new wine, the new thing that He might want to do in and through us?
  2. Do you understand the times? Have you taken inventory to really know the new lay of the land so as to know what to do in response?

I’m ok – but being ok is exhausting

| Kimberly Smith

“Are you ok?”

Well, yes, I am. I guess.

In many ways, I’m better than ok. I have my health – not just for right now, but I’m also not in a high risk or vulnerable category that would make that uncertain or a source of fear. I have a beautiful home – if I was going to be ‘locked down’ anywhere, this is a pretty sweet locale for it! I have secure work – not just because I keep getting paid each month, but because the organisation I work with has incredibly supportive and sensitive leadership and colleagues. I am well-resourced and appreciated.

There are lots of other things that make me ok. The Victorian winter has been decidedly un-wintery … lots of days of beautiful sunshine and bright blue skies where too many grey skies and shut in days might have made the heart more cloudy and gloomy too. The internet! Let’s pause for a reverend moment of acknowledgement for the gift of the world wide web to us in these times! It brings the people into my home, allows me to be present where I’d otherwise miss out, and it delivers all these fabulous packages to my home (side note – who pays for the internet shopping bills? Just checking.).

So, I think I’m ok, thanks for asking.

But being ok is so exhausting.

Holding my okayness requires so much of me, it feels like another full time job. Above all the adult-ing and general life stuff there’s an extra portion of energy required to ‘be ok’.

Living on my own has always had its considerations when it comes to boundaries and routines. Bed times, home times, meal times, play times have no element of external imposition. And the challenges for me as an extrovert living alone have been well-documented. Our current circumstances have magnified and multiplied these things. Decision fatigue is real, and the self-motivation & self-discipline demands are next level. Add to that the pervasive uncertainty, the rapid change, the empathetic grief and loss, and also some personal disappointment and hurt.

And all the while, the usual avenues for emotional energy top-ups have been altered or completely closed off. I have gone multiple days without seeing a live human being! Instead of joining a congregation for worship and ministry I record a message to a camera in my lounge room and send a link. My Physio appointment last week was the only time I’ve had permitted physical contact with another person in … well, too long! I am missing opportunities to celebrate friends or gather with family.

So, I’m weary.

It is what it is. And it could be far worse. I’m so grateful for so many provisions and blessings in this season. I’m really ok. I am. But acknowledging the reality of the extra energy expenditure releases me to be ok with the moments it feels a bit too much. It permits me to be gentle with (and even more generous to) myself.

It also raises my consciousness of the unique struggles others are dealing with and prompts me to grace when that pressure leaks out for them in fear, complaining or even aggression.

Being ok takes more effort right now. Which might be why some people are not. And might explain some of the fatigue for those who are.

isolation and living alone

| Kimberly Smith

There are only so many times a living-alone-Single-extrovert can hear the words ‘isolation’, ‘social distance’ and ‘cancelled’ before the weight becomes a little too much to carry and it has to leak out of my eyes! Yesterday I had a significant ‘moment’ (think tears, snot, a few little hiccup-y gulps and one or two audible groans!).

Last month I shared a post how long ‘til the realise I’m dead? and it seemed to resonate. Single people commented repeatedly “This is exactly how I feel!” and married responses repeated the sentiment “I’ve never even thought about this before.”

The same people who worry about not being discovered to have died are bound to be experiencing an additional layer of anxiety in the face of these shut downs and measures of separation to responsibly manage the movement of COVID19 and it’s impact on our health care system and to protect our most vulnerable.

CHECK ON THEM!

Social media is being flooded with posts from Introverts saying this is their idea of heaven. From what I understand, the cancellation of social events and being ‘forced’ to stay at home are the stuff their dreams are made of! 🙂 HOWEVER, even the most introverted of introverts could acknowledge that, as much as they love being alone and are personally energised by that time to recharge, there’s also the reality that without the interruption of exchange with others there can be an un-health that shapes their thought life. As much as they can do without social interactions, the circuit breaker of other people’s engagement in their thought processes and internal dialogue is a healthy and necessary thing.

CHECK ON THEM!

As organisations (like mine!) move to working from home (can we just pause for a praise break that we live in such technologically advanced times – so many opportunities to stay working and connected through online platforms!) while this is a fantastic provision – it’s also a socially isolating move. Many living-alone-Singles rely on the accountability and regular interactions of work life and will struggle without it. As churches move to streaming their services, be reminded that it’s not just the sermon or worship our congregations will be missing (in fact, these things have been out-source-able for a long time now) it’s the connection to one another, a sense of engagement in something bigger than themselves, the opportunity to keep regular relational accounts with one another – to give and receive prayer and encouragement.  (My church has set up an online/phone prayer service to facilitate this – what a great initiative!)

CHECK ON THEM!

For those of us living alone who have the love language of physical touch – this experience has another layer of impact. The social distancing protocols don’t apply within your households. You might sleep closer than 1.5m to your spouse. Go ahead and TRY convincing young children not to invade your (or each other’s) personal space – that’s not happening! So, even in a time of physical disconnection you’re experiencing some connection. In my regular life I can go days without physical touch and now, it’s mandated! In my little ‘moment’ yesterday, this was part of my processing … how long do I have to go without any physical connection?

CHECK ON THEM!

I messaged my friends – the ‘her is ours now’ family referenced in this blog being family to those without family – and shared about my little meltdown and said “I decided you could adopt me, then if we need to isolate I’ll isolate with my ‘family’”. The response was, essentially, an affirmation that they thought I already WAS adopted, and that if we get shut in as family-units then my place of shut in is with them! “If ‘Her is ours now’ then ‘her corona is our corona now’ too!”

Of course, we’re prayerful that the measures our country are employing now might avoid a complete lock-down. Things are changing daily as we continue to track the spread and learn what we can from other countries (another praise break – how grateful are we for all the fabulously smart and compassionate people in our medical system?!) and there’s no real point in leaping ahead to worst case scenarios. Being sensible and caring in this moment is our best next step. If I came to know I was infected I would never intentionally expose them to the virus.

But, I can’t tell you the relief that came to me in my emotionally charged episode, to have my friends make it clear that I won’t have to be alone. It was such a circuit breaker for my fear, loneliness, overwhelm and distress. There’s a plan, an option.

CHECK ON YOUR LIVING ALONE FRIENDS.

If only to give them a safe place to process the emotions they might be feeling. Each of us will travel an experience like this differently as it’s shaped by our lifestage, personality, health status and other factors. Let’s do what we can to grow in our understanding and empathy for one another.