Wednesday, July 25, 2007 at 12:12am
Serenity at work
Column: New Houses from Old Bricks
"God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference." The so-called "Serenity Prayer," frequently attributed to theologian Reinhold Niebuhr, is easy to recite but more difficult to apply.
A cornerstone of 12-step programs, the prayer's simplicity reaches far beyond them. Recently I received a helpful lesson in applying it to my own work and life, thanks to a week of continuing education on "Thriving as an Associate Pastor" at Luther Seminary. The Serenity Prayer was never mentioned by name, but the principles were comparable.
Being an associate pastor, I imagine, is a bit like "middle management" in other lines of work. While the role provides a little bit of power (defined as "the ability to get things done"), you're not the boss. As with other middle management situations, at times the responsibilities can outweigh one's ability to accomplish them.
The Serenity Prayer can be helpful with such issues of responsibility, authority and power at work. As one example, here's how it could work in my own situation, with practice.
Acceptance of what I can't change can provide an alternative to beating my head against a wall. Alas, the realm of what I can't change is always far larger than I think — and frankly, when arrogance sneaks in, it's far larger than I think it should be. (In the antithesis of acceptance, arrogance fumes, "I have a seminary degree and a certificate of ordination and great ideas — why won't people change and do this my way?!")
The longer I pray this prayer at work, the more I realize that "what I can't change" means, at the very least, "anything that involves other people's ideas, opinions, feelings and schedules." I can't change the church culture, history or resources. I can't change when and how people contribute time or resources to the community. I can't change the way anyone else on staff does ministry. I can't change what others expect of me.
Given all that, I have two choices: I can beat my head against a wall trying to change those things anyway, or I can dramatically shorten my mental and emotional to-do list through acceptance.
But how do you accept everything in this vast category, and still do your job? Courage to change the things I can provides some options. For one thing, I can speak up when I have the opportunity. I may not always be right and I may not always be heard, but I am often surprised by what happens when I'm as honest and open as possible in the moment. And I'm often surprised by the results, too.
During the week of continuing ed, I was surprised by the emphasis on how to take care of ourselves in ministry. Perhaps I should have expected that, because it's one of the greatest insights within the prayer: Really, the only thing you have any hope of changing is yourself and the way you approach your work.
To do that, we discussed practices that could apply to other work settings as well: setting boundaries on work hours and relationships, for example, and recognizing and making choices. For both those practices, I recognize that among some of those things I can't change, there may be a few I can't live with. Acceptance doesn't mean turning into a doormat; it means seeing reality and being willing to respond accordingly.
To respond, we pray for the wisdom to know the difference. In the workplace this is sometimes called "choosing your battles," but it's more than just choosing. This is a prayer, after all: Presumably God has something to say about this. Wisdom comes from God-inspired discernment more than it comes from choice. Some issues we are called to engage in — in many more, we are not. To tell the difference, we can turn to discernment: prayer, meditation and conversation with trusted friends, in which we ask for and listen to God's guidance.
For the issues in which I do engage, more often than not, it turns out that God is solving them in ways I never could have foreseen. My only contributions (and even those are God-inspired) tend to be acceptance and, every now and then, courage.
Originally I had hoped the class would give me some strategies for approaching my work in this church. Where and how could I be most effective? Could I learn a middle manager's subtle influencing? When issues arose, what rules could I use in "choosing my battles," determining when to fight or flee?
Instead, it reminded me that that kind of strategy is unnecessary when I see myself as just one person with a particular role, trying to serve God and others in a community where most of us are doing the best we can. In that way, ministry isn't too different from other places where people of faith try to serve God and others through their work, praying for a modicum of serenity along the way.
— — —
Rev. Rebecca Schlatter is an ordained minister in the Lutheran Church (ELCA) in Reno, Nevada. You can contact her at {email newhousesfromoldbricks@hotmail.com}newhousesfromoldbricks@hotmail.com{/email}. © copyright 2007 by Rebecca Schlatter.
A cornerstone of 12-step programs, the prayer's simplicity reaches far beyond them. Recently I received a helpful lesson in applying it to my own work and life, thanks to a week of continuing education on "Thriving as an Associate Pastor" at Luther Seminary. The Serenity Prayer was never mentioned by name, but the principles were comparable.
Being an associate pastor, I imagine, is a bit like "middle management" in other lines of work. While the role provides a little bit of power (defined as "the ability to get things done"), you're not the boss. As with other middle management situations, at times the responsibilities can outweigh one's ability to accomplish them.
The Serenity Prayer can be helpful with such issues of responsibility, authority and power at work. As one example, here's how it could work in my own situation, with practice.
Acceptance of what I can't change can provide an alternative to beating my head against a wall. Alas, the realm of what I can't change is always far larger than I think — and frankly, when arrogance sneaks in, it's far larger than I think it should be. (In the antithesis of acceptance, arrogance fumes, "I have a seminary degree and a certificate of ordination and great ideas — why won't people change and do this my way?!")
The longer I pray this prayer at work, the more I realize that "what I can't change" means, at the very least, "anything that involves other people's ideas, opinions, feelings and schedules." I can't change the church culture, history or resources. I can't change when and how people contribute time or resources to the community. I can't change the way anyone else on staff does ministry. I can't change what others expect of me.
Given all that, I have two choices: I can beat my head against a wall trying to change those things anyway, or I can dramatically shorten my mental and emotional to-do list through acceptance.
But how do you accept everything in this vast category, and still do your job? Courage to change the things I can provides some options. For one thing, I can speak up when I have the opportunity. I may not always be right and I may not always be heard, but I am often surprised by what happens when I'm as honest and open as possible in the moment. And I'm often surprised by the results, too.
During the week of continuing ed, I was surprised by the emphasis on how to take care of ourselves in ministry. Perhaps I should have expected that, because it's one of the greatest insights within the prayer: Really, the only thing you have any hope of changing is yourself and the way you approach your work.
To do that, we discussed practices that could apply to other work settings as well: setting boundaries on work hours and relationships, for example, and recognizing and making choices. For both those practices, I recognize that among some of those things I can't change, there may be a few I can't live with. Acceptance doesn't mean turning into a doormat; it means seeing reality and being willing to respond accordingly.
To respond, we pray for the wisdom to know the difference. In the workplace this is sometimes called "choosing your battles," but it's more than just choosing. This is a prayer, after all: Presumably God has something to say about this. Wisdom comes from God-inspired discernment more than it comes from choice. Some issues we are called to engage in — in many more, we are not. To tell the difference, we can turn to discernment: prayer, meditation and conversation with trusted friends, in which we ask for and listen to God's guidance.
For the issues in which I do engage, more often than not, it turns out that God is solving them in ways I never could have foreseen. My only contributions (and even those are God-inspired) tend to be acceptance and, every now and then, courage.
Originally I had hoped the class would give me some strategies for approaching my work in this church. Where and how could I be most effective? Could I learn a middle manager's subtle influencing? When issues arose, what rules could I use in "choosing my battles," determining when to fight or flee?
Instead, it reminded me that that kind of strategy is unnecessary when I see myself as just one person with a particular role, trying to serve God and others in a community where most of us are doing the best we can. In that way, ministry isn't too different from other places where people of faith try to serve God and others through their work, praying for a modicum of serenity along the way.
— — —
Rev. Rebecca Schlatter is an ordained minister in the Lutheran Church (ELCA) in Reno, Nevada. You can contact her at {email newhousesfromoldbricks@hotmail.com}newhousesfromoldbricks@hotmail.com{/email}. © copyright 2007 by Rebecca Schlatter.