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The Challenge of Change
Everyone deals with change differently, and some are more comfortable with change than others. Often the way change transforms us (or doesn't) depends on whether we see it as a good or bad thing.
Personally, I hate change. When I hear about something that is changing, that is out of my control ā something at work, my bus route, a technology I use, or a tool I rely on ā I get very weird. I start to feel all hot and flushed. I immediately get aggravated with whoever caused this change or even the person delivering the news of the change. I begin thinking of who I can blame and where I can lodge an official complaint. I generally come to acceptance at some point, but my initial reaction is 100% fight or flight. Certainly, as a researcher of pastoral transitions and someone who really enjoys observing and participating in organizational change, I obviously do not hate all change. Yet when you get down to the nitty-gritty of changes that affect my life and are not in my control in any way whatsoever, I am not a big fan.
In my years of studying and working on change, though, I found out a few essentials about change that shifted my perspective. I began to understand from my research and experiences that:
- Change can and should be an integral part of any faith journey.
- Change can be a living devotional.
- Change can be the raw material that is transformed into new insights and awareness.
- Change can bring us closer to our fellow Jesus followers, from the beginning of our faith until today.
When we find ways to see and live through a change in these ways, it can be a powerful tool for our personal and congregational development.
So how can we shift our perspective on change?
Change and our Christian Story
Change is built into the story we live as Christians. The disciples experienced change on the road to Emmaus. They were working to process what they believed had happened to Jesus, having heard things that were beyond their comprehension and possibly beyond their belief. They could not incorporate this new information, the words of the women and their vision telling them Jesus was alive, their checking the tomb and finding it empty, into what they believed had happened, that Jesus had been killed by the authorities and would be with them no more on this journey they had chosen because of his call. Even when they met who they believed to be a stranger on the road, they could not process that this stranger was, in fact, Jesus. Assuming him a true stranger, they told him the whole story. The story of the trauma of their beloved rabbi being put to death, the story of their hopes and dreams for him, the story of their ongoing confusion. Jesus had some more lessons for them. He told them that not believing the women, or their own eyes was foolish and slow of heart. That not taking this new information and incorporating it with what they knew of the scriptures was the wrong path. But despite all these disorienting experiences, it was not until Jesus broke bread with them, as he had so many times before, did they find a new understanding that while Jesus was killed, he had not left them. He was walking with them into their future.
How many times are we faced with change, with new information, only to compare it with what we already know and either discard new conflicting data or simply doubt that dataās truthfulness or relevance? We are just like Jesusā disciples every single day. We doubt that God is in the change until we have a transforming experience or insight that opens our eyes. The only problem is that too often, we don't have those mountaintop experiences. We go along unchanged, even resisting change, and never learning how God may be speaking to us in the process.
Big Changes Ahead
One of the primary changes we face as members or leaders of churches is a change in pastors. Like the disciples, who struggled with change after Jesusā death and resurrection, with the added challenge of struggling to understand much of the wisdom He had left with them, churches are charged with continuing after the loss of one teacher to continue to spread the good news of their faith through the life of the church. During such transitions, some people find their faith tried or strengthened by their experiences during the transition. But even when their experiences have the potential for profound learning, people consistently interpret their experiences considering their pre-existing beliefs.
Struggling with any information that conflicted with those beliefs, seeking out research and information to shore up their pre-existing beliefs, they put all new information in a box marked āDonāt need, donāt want,ā high up on a shelf somewhere. In churches, this can seem benevolent. People want to see a congregation in the best light, so they ignore information that might counter that. But it can hinder their progress. People who want to think of themselves as generous cannot figure out why their salary is not enough to attract the best candidates. Lay leaders who think of themselves as reasonable and forward-thinking seek a pastor who will continue business as usual.
Changing our Minds
The disciples could not take in the new information of the womenās testimony, the empty tomb, the appearance of Jesus. Not at first. They had new information, sure, but they took it, compared it to what they believed to be true, and dismissed any parts that did not fit. We all do that. Brain research has suggested that not only do humans amplify information that confirms their beliefs, we experience genuine pleasure ā the same brain chemical released from pleasure or a substance high ā when processing information that supports their beliefs.3
During the run-up to the 2004 presidential election, Emory researchers found just that. While undergoing an fMRI brain scan, 30 men with strong political feelings had to evaluate statements by both George W. Bush and John Kerry in which the candidates clearly contradicted themselves. The Republicans were critical of Kerry, the Democratic subjects were critical of Bush, yet both neatly avoided criticizing ātheir guy.ā And the scans of their brain showed the part of the brain most associated with reasoning was inactive during all of this. Most active were the parts responsible for emotions, conflict resolution, and making judgments about morality. Once the men had arrived at a conclusion that made them emotionally comfortable, their reward and pleasure centers lit right up.4
We all do this. In some ways, we are just rats in a maze of life, avoiding the shock of information that conflicts with our beliefs to get to the pleasure of reaffirming what we already believe to be true. This is the challenge we have with our experiences of change. We go in with one idea of what is or should be unfolding and have an exceedingly difficult time opening ourselves to any new information from the change that, while it may be shocking or unexpected, can be one of our greatest sources of learning. Yet we are called by the stories of our faith to transcend our instincts to take the safer path and avoid the shock. In fact, our faith is permeated with the idea of metanoia, an idea that closely parallels what we would now call transformational learning.
Learning from Experience
For many people, learning from change, if it happens at all, is not transformative. Our frames of belief and understanding persist in the face of informal and incidental learning, despite experiences and new knowledge that challenge those frames. In my study of several congregations experiencing a pastoral transition, congregation members seemed to interpret most of their learning during the transition through the lens of their pre-existing frame of reference, if the lesson even intersected with their frame at all.
Research on transformative learning shows that most learning is transactional rather than transformative. Transactional learning is where learning through experience only results in new skills or information.5 In my study, for example, congregation members reported a great deal of learning that simply obtained information or skills needed to move forward in their responsibilities to the congregation. Even disorienting experiences such as learning of the changes in gay marriage policy in the national church or feeling much less comfortable in the congregation during the transition were likely to be interpreted through the lens of their frame of reference and reinforce that frame, rather than change it significantly.
In the field of neuroscience, brain imaging research has demonstrated that strongly-held beliefs are not only difficult to change, but that brain processes actively resist changing them. Parts of the brain that handle reasoning are less active when we are faced with information that challenges our strongly-held positions. We experience an emotional shock, almost as if we are a rat in a scien...