By Laura Stephens Reed, Congregational Coach
When I was in elementary school, I wanted to be an astronaut when I grew up. (There’s a decent chance you did too.) I was much better at reading and writing than science and math, but that didn’t matter. Even the trauma of watching the Challenger explode on live television didn’t dampen my desires. It all seemed so simple: I just had to keep studying hard, and one day I’d see Earth from the window of a space shuttle. Of course, the cold, hard realities of what it actually takes to become an astronaut set in, and my cosmic ambitions turned from technology to theology.
Dreaming is innate to children. Kids who grow up in reasonably secure environments believe that anything is possible. But somewhere along the way, our field of vision narrows. We learn from experience and from peers’ or teachers’ admonitions that there are some definite limits to what we can do. This can be a good thing. I need to know that I cannot drive 100 miles per hour down the interstate and expect to get to my destination in one piece.
But at other times the constraints keep us from imagining a different life or a better way. They keep us stuck in the status quo just for the sake of our – or others’ – comfort. These limiting beliefs can be held by individuals or by groups, including congregations.
Whether we realize it or not, each of us has a story we tell ourselves about what we are and are not capable of. These narratives guide our perspectives and decisions. When we are in the grip of limiting beliefs, the stories might sound like this:
“We cannot stop doing [this ministry]…
…or the people who lead [this ministry] will leave.
…because it is what we are known for.
We cannot start doing [this ministry]…
…because we might fail.
…because this is something that churches bigger/smaller than us do.
We are [this descriptor]…
…and we can never be anything other than that.
…so we cannot reach out to [that population] and still be us.
We are not [this descriptor]
…so we do not really matter.
…and we can only define ourselves in opposition to what we are not.
We have [this resource]…
…so we cannot afford to fail.
…and we must hold onto it no matter what.
We do not have [this resource]…
…so we don’t have anything.
…so we can’t offer something valuable to our community.”
Have you heard these sentiments in your church? How often have you said them yourself? (I know I have caught myself doing so from time to time. ) There is a lot of life experience that runs underneath these limiting beliefs, hard-won wisdom that should inform but doesn’t have to restrict how we discern God’s vocation for us. Otherwise, we’ll be cut off from noticing our gifts and options. We can choose stories that are true and enliven us and call forth our best rather than keep us mired in our least gracious self-concepts.
If your church is trying to be or do differently without much success, limiting beliefs fueling a restrictive narrative might be the culprit. So here are two steps to help you get traction:
Surface limiting beliefs and get curious about them. First, ask, what assumptions are we making? Where do those beliefs come from? How true are they?
Next wonder, what constraints could we remove? How could we manage the restraints that are real?
Then, dream what we would do if we had no limitations? What pieces of that are possible even within the realities we’ve acknowledged? It is amazing to realize when we have gotten in our own way because we have been replaying old tapes in our heads. It’s also hard not to bemoan lost opportunities, so it is important to extend self-compassion to ourselves when we have these light bulb moments.
Acknowledge that change is hard, even when we choose it. Limiting beliefs keep us doing what we have always done, and there’s comfort in that even when we feel frustrated. We know what to do and how. When we blow up our limiting beliefs, change becomes possible. That change involves doing things differently. The familiarity is gone. There will be fits and starts. Our insides must catch up to our outsides or else the fresh ways feel all wrong and won’t stick. This alignment of new behaviors and new attitudes takes motivation (remembering the “why” for the effort), time (despite our desires to get through the discomfort quickly), accountability (ways to make sure we stay with the change long enough for it to work on us), support (tangible and intangible help), and safety (to tamp down our anxiety).
This work of getting beyond our limited beliefs and transitioning to new modes of action is hard but worth the effort. It makes exploration of and commitment to God’s dream for us possible, because what is faith if not refusing to accept that brokenness, scarcity, and finitude are the ultimate realities?
I’ll probably never see Earth from orbit unless commercial space travel becomes accessible to the average person. But I can – we all can – step back and look at life through Gospel goggles, appreciating everyone and everything I see and knowing that there is so much that is possible through the Christ who heals, offers life abundant, and unites us eternally with the God who loves us.