I'm pleased to share this conversation with author and speaker Anne Marie Miller, whose latest book, Lean On Me: Finding Intentional, Vulnerable, and Consistent Community (Thomas Nelson, 2014) addresses cultural and personal resistances to community life and health. – Paul
Paul: I think many of us can relate to the difficulties of life in community. Did this book come out of a crisis moment for you?
Anne: In hindsight, Lean on Me was birthed out of a crisis. After seven years of marriage, I was faced with the reality that it was ending. Just like that. I was blind-sided, and the grief that resulted from the experience was intolerable. I knew I could choose to run away and avoid it or I could engage my community, be messy, be scared, and let others into the mess.
At first, I chose to run … but three short months later, I found myself asking a dozen people if they would commit for eighteen months to helping me through this crisis in my life. Ten of them said yes. I thought asking would be the most difficult part—being so intentional—but it was the vulnerability that proved most difficult for me.
Does our generation have any specific challenges to engaging in community? How do we overcome those?
I believe we hear the word "community" so often none of us really know what it means. We have some ideas … it involves spending time with people and maybe doing so on a consistent basis, but relationships and our ideas of them have changed so much with the increase of social media in the last ten years. We feel connected. Maybe we see someone got engaged on Facebook and we "like" it, thereby acknowledging it, but that's not community. There is truly something sacred about face-to-face time (that isn't FaceTime). When that engaged person gets married and his marriage goes through a trial, who will he call on? All the people who "liked" his status update? Or the people who are in his life, who are in the dirty and the beautiful? We must be intentional.
What are the symptoms in a life when community is absent?
I think there are four quadrants of relationships. A healthy person has people in each. The four are: Not vulnerable and not committed. These relationships are more acquaintances than friends. Perhaps a casual meeting in a grocery line. You likely won't (and shouldn't) open up about your deepest struggles with the woman at the cash register or count on her to help you through your trials. It's okay to have these relationships, but if they are your only relationships, that's a good indicator you need to intentionally pursue some vulnerable and consistent friends.
Vulnerable and not committed. Those who are vulnerable and not committed are people who have no problem opening up about their life and their struggles. This is an admirable trait to have, but it is one that needs to be used with discretion. The people in this group, although they can share freely, are not committed to anyone. Though they may be aware of how they can grow, they don’t let anyone in to help them.
Committed and not vulnerable. When someone is committed but not vulnerable, they have made a step to be in a group or have some kind of consistent relationships in their lives. However, they won’t share anything below the surface. In my experience, a lot of people who go to church fall in this category. They're committed to serving and to showing up, but letting people in is difficult for them. It's tough being vulnerable.
Committed and vulnerable. Out of the four groups, those who have committed and vulnerable friendships are generally in the healthiest relationally. They are open about the realities of life with a consistent group of people. Because of the trust built by being committed, the ability to be vulnerable is easier. People in this category can celebrate the good things in life, mourn the losses, and help carry each other as they grow closer to God and to each other. These are the vital relationships every person needs in place.
Why isn’t it enough to count on community to just “happen”?
If we look at scripture, I think Jesus set a great example for us when he pursued his relationships with his disciples (and others). He was intentional about the who, the where, and the why. If we are just a bunch of people waiting for an invitation to spend time with others, nobody will ever make the first move. I sometimes wonder how anything organic or healthy can be cultivated in an over-organized environment. Being so intentional seems to be the equivalent of genetically modifying how relationships should advance. As my own crisis progressed from shock to grief, I realized I’d been sending myself a false message when I was telling myself a support system should just naturally develop (because if not, then those people probably didn’t truly care anyway). That was a concept I could choose to continue believing, or I could go against my wiring and make a different choice. I could be intentional.
Yes, it took a little push, but changing the story I was telling myself—that “real relationships” only happen out of thin air—was one of the most significant decisions of my adult life, not only because it placed me on a trajectory to discover and be a part of committed and vulnerable relationships, but it also showed me it is never too late to change the messages you tell yourself are true.
What advice do you have for those who have been deeply wounded by community gone wrong?
I still fear rejection, condemnation, abandonment, losing someone, betrayal, being intimate, and change. I fear the vulnerability. I am too lazy or sometimes the opposite, too overworked and overly committed to the unimportant to actually commit to relationships in the way I’ve experienced in the past and the way I desire to do so now. Will I be enough? What if I do the wrong thing? What if they don’t love me? What if I don’t love them?
We will always feel a complex, two-sided longing—the craving for relationships and the desire to be on our own—creep in as we pull our feet through the mud of the daily. When this comes, we must take a heavy breath and command our spirits to rejoice and reach out. If we are told a rock will sing when we don’t, imagine the will it takes to get a defeated soul to move. Command it anyway. Rejoice anyway. We are children of the One who has loved us in the past for eons and will love us into forever for eternity. A man died in our place, painting us pure and lovely, and nothing can steal this away from us.
Not even our own selfishness.
Paul J. Pastor is associate editor of Leadership Journal and PARSE.
