Christine is a gift. I first met her through Abbey of the Arts, her virtual monastery, and got to know her through a few of the online courses that she offers. In emails and other exchanges, I got to know her a little bit better, and then at a Spiritual Directors International event I was graced with meeting her in the flesh. As you'll read below, Christine is articulate, warm and deeply intuitive. What you don't know is what I experienced upon meeting Christine in person for the first time—to be with her is to know yourself profoundly accepted. It is a rare thing, and a holy one. 

Introduce yourself to the Anam Cara readers. Who are you? Where do you live? What do you do other than spiritual direction?

I am Christine Valters Paintner and I live in Seattle, WA with my husband and my canine companion (who is one of my primary spiritual directors) in the heart of the city. I am a Benedictine oblate which means I have made a commitment to living as a monk in the world outside the monastery walls. I am also the online Abbess of Abbey of the Arts, a virtual monastery offering resources, retreats, and online classes in contemplative practice and creative expression. So my main work other than spiritual direction is as a teacher and a writer of several books on monastic wisdom.

What brought you to the ministry of spiritual direction? 

Like many folks, I found that there were people starting to come to me for guidance in the spiritual life. This first started happening in my mid-twenties when I was working as a campus minister at a Catholic high school. From there I went onto graduate school to earn my PhD in Christian spirituality. Despite the academic focus of my life, I also continued to feel drawn to being in relationship with people in ministry and so began moving into retreat and spiritual direction work. It was really these kinds of relationships that ultimately helped me to decide not to pursue the academic path after graduating. I wanted to keep being involved with people in this intimate and holy way.

Why do you think spiritual direction is valuable? 

Spiritual direction has a multitude of values which include sitting with someone who has some wisdom about the spiritual journey (sort of a mentor for moving more deeply inward), being in a safe and sacred space to explore the holy and terrible moments of one's life, having a place to dream the dreams God has planted in our hearts in an uncensored way, and returning again and again to a place where we can integrate the different threads of our lives.

For me the metaphors of midwife and weaver speak most powerfully to the spiritual direction ministry. The spiritual director helps to support the holy birthing happening in souls and the weaver helps to draw together the threads into a tapestry.

What's your favorite thing about being a spiritual director?

It is a profound honor to sit with people, create this safe container to hold whatever comes forth in our time, and then be privileged to enter into the intimacy of their lives. What I have been told again and again, that often peoples' greatest learning and gift from their time in spiritual direction or my retreats is the permission and encouragement to be exactly wherever they are in their journey without judgment and to welcome in all the difficult feelings that arise with compassion, and to have permission to fully take care of one's own needs which leads to the ability to begin to name what those are.

You were just given a yacht. What would you name it?

I would name it "peregrinatio," which is a Latin term for something the ancient Celtic monks would do, which is set sail in a rudderless boat without oars and let the wind and water carry them to the place of their resurrection. I try and live this in a more metaphorical way in my daily life, surrendering myself to the unfolding of my life, leaning into the holy direction it is taking.

Give us your life story in 6 words.

Pilgrim yogi monk dancing her prayers

Okay, you can have more than 6 words. Share your full bio.

Writing is one of my biggest passions and I have six published titles including The Artist's Rule: Nurturing Your Creative Soul with Monastic Wisdom. I am currently developing my online class Eyes of the Heart on contemplative photography into a book length reflection on that process. I love spending hours at a time diving into the joy of the written word.

Much of my work focuses on supporting what I call soul care practitioners (spiritual directors, chaplains, counselors, and pastors) in their own self-care, contemplative life, and bringing the expressive arts to their work. I have recently created a Soul Care Institute through Abbey of the Arts to offer a sequence of online and live programs to support this vision.

On a more personal level my daily practice includes lectio divina, journaling, and yoga. Yoga has become a significant practice for me in the last 15 years and I recently completed training to teach. Mostly I am interested in the ways that the philosophical path of yoga is in such alignment with monastic wisdom in Christian tradition, especially the desert mothers and fathers.

Walking and pilgrimage are also vital practices for me, keeping me immersed in the life of the world and taking journeys to visit places of ancestry. I believe that the stories of our mothers and fathers, grandmothers and grandfathers are our own stories, we come to know ourselves more deeply in this way. Daily walks at home keep me connected to the rhythm of the seasons, a source of great wisdom for my life.

I have been married for 17 years to a wonderful man who supports me in all my crazy dreams and visions. Marriage has been the place of learning my deepest self-acceptance and love as well as the rich wrestling that comes from having to negotiate daily life with another person.

It is dangerous for me, as a spiritual director to write things (better said to publish things?) while I'm in the midst of leading a retreat.

There are some practical reasons for that, of course. If I publish things during a retreat, there is the possibility that the retreatants will think that I am writing about them. That alone could be crushing to the tender souls that I am journeying with. It is bad enough when you suspect that a friend is talking about you behind your back. It is horrifying to think that person might be your spiritual director.

The other danger to writing or publishing things while in the midst of a retreat is that I myself am in process. Any retreat has a movement to it (John Veltri called this the conversion cycle, and I have seen it play out time and again), and this movement occurs in both the retreatant and the director. Writing something in the middle of that process and sending it out to the world as a fait accompli is necessarily static. And the temptation is to name that thing as an accurate picture of where I am, rather than simply an image of me in motion.

I know that blogging carries with it an implicit understanding that the ideas expressed in the blog are fluid, apt to change or movement over time. Although this is not exclusively true of blogging about belief, it is particularly so in this context. What once was lost, now is found, and all that. And yet, there is enough rigidity to the medium (note how quickly Twitter and Facebook promulgate a pithy sentiment or quote taken out of context as the complete picture of what a person thinks on a subject) that saying something too soon, or in the midst of a shift of perspective can do much more damage than the good of offering it can offset.

As one of my favorite prayers states, "And so I think it is with you. Your ideas mature gradually—let them grown. Let them shape themselves without undue haste. Don't try to force them on…"

All of which is to say, if I'm quiet over the next week, you now know why.

Today is Shrove Tuesday, otherwise known as Mardi Gras (translated as Fat Tuesday). Generally, today is the day where Christians are meant to consider their lives prayerfully and decide on what the shape of their Lenten fast will be—whether it’s a giving up of a vice or addiction, or taking up of a devotional activity. Lent is the 40 day period between Ash Wednesday and Maundy Thursday of Holy Week, when the Passion of Christ is remembered. Depending on the tradition, fasting takes place Monday through Friday (Orthodox) or Monday through Saturday (Catholic and other Protestant denominations), with Sunday being a feast day.

While I’ve been thinking about what God is calling me to this Lenten season for at least a month, my heart hasn’t quite landed on anything particular yet. The penintenial time of Lent is meant to be a response to God’s longing call in Joel 2, “Return to me with your whole heart!”

In those words, I hear the ache of a father whose son has rejected him (Luke 15:11-32), the cry of a lover who longs for the beloved (Song of Songs 2), the agony of Christ on the Cross (Mark 15:25-37).

In those words, I hear the invitation of God to look at my own heart, and consider the things that keep me from deeper intimacy with a God who loves me beyond anything I could ask or imagine. Why do I choose Facebook over time communing with Him? What is it about food that I go to the pantry to numb myself instead of the comfort of His arms? How is it that my heart would rather repeat nasty things about myself than choose to engage in the very practices of writing and speaking that He has annointed me for? He calls me His beloved, do I believe it?

Contrary to popular culture, Lent isn’t about giving something up just to prove that you have control of your addictions, or that you’re better than the chocoholic next door. Instead, it’s about making space to receive more of God’s love, His tenderness and your true identity in Him.

I’m still not sure what Lenten practices God is calling me into this season but if, like me, you’re still considering, here are a few ideas that might spark something for you:

1. Facebook

In our world of social connectedness, Facebook is the new chocolate for the season of Lent. There have been studies done and articles written about the fact that our interactions on social networks like Facebook produce in our brains the same chemical reactions as when we are hugged or touched. Much like the phenylethylamine in chocolate, time on Facebook spikes our “feel good” hormones with a rush of oxytocin. This, in turn, fuels our desire to get another “hit” of the chemical, and we find ourselves refreshing our News Feed every 30 seconds instead of tending to our crying child. While I don’t think Facebook addiction is going to cause the kind of dystopian social meltdowns that some doomsdayers say, it might be worth your while to see how much control you have over your social network use—or how much control it has over you. If you find yourself checking Facebook before you get out of bed in the morning, it might be time to call it quits for 40 days. If that makes you feel panicky, don’t worry, Sundays are feast days.

2. Saying “Yes”

Ever find yourself committed to something that you didn’t really want to do? Like bringing over that casserole to a new mom you hardly know, or getting that extra project done at work despite the fact that you’re going to have to miss your daughter’s soccer game—again?

Some of us say “yes” so often that we don’t even realize that it’s our addiction to being “useful” or “necessary” that is driving us to overcommit, which leads to being completely overwhelmed.

Perhaps this Lenten season you might be led to a season of hiddenness and humility, where instead of saying “yes” to babysitting your friend’s children one more time, you make room for yourself, your family and your heart by saying “no” to every extra request that comes your way. This may be a tough one for those of us who get our self-worth from how much we can do, instead of how beloved of God we are. It may be tougher for those who have great opportunities come their way during this season (and, believe me, if you’re led to take up this fast, they probably will), but saying “no” can produce the kind of incredible freedom that says that your reputation, career, self-worth are determined not by how much you do for others, but by a God who will care for you, if you only give Him the chance.

3. Reading

In her book, Girl Meets God, Lauren Winner talks about giving up reading for Lent. While this may not seem like much to you, for this self-avowed bibliophile, giving up books was like giving up eating for 40 days. Books soothed her, told her she wasn’t alone, and kept her occupied in a way that allowed her to avoid her feelings.

While you may not be led to give up reading for Lent, is there an activity that you go to when you’re sad, alone, or scared? Something that you do that allows you to numb out or avoid sitting with what’s going on in your own soul?

If so, consider stepping away from that practice for the duration of Lent. Invite God into those lonely, sad, frightened places. You may find He fills them with something you would have otherwise missed.

4. Eating Out

It’s late, and you’re hungry. What could be easier than picking up some Chick-Fil-A on the way home, or driving through Sonic to get some tots?

Sometimes the conveniences of Western living leave us blind and insensitive to the economic realities of the majority of the world’s population. For a lot of people, there’s not such thing as fast food, and convenience eating is a thing of day dreams. When others live on one meal or less a day, choosing to let go of eating out (in restaurants, fast food chains or even your work cafeteria) can begin the process of opening your heart not just to your own needs, but the needs and sufferings of those around the world. It helps you remember that you’re not the center of the universe, and that God suffers for and with those in poverty—His heart breaks for them.

If simply giving up eating out doesn’t feel like it will soften your heart, perhaps consider eating only rice, beans and water for this season. In your body’s needs, you’ll be feeling the needs of the world. And that is guaranteed to change you, to open you, and to allow God’s compassion to flow through you.

5. Chocolate

While we’re on the subject of food, you could consider giving up chocolate for Lent. This is a slightly different form of fasting than the food fast mentioned in #4. Giving up chocolate, or those foods that offer you comfort, you’re choosing to turn to God when your psyche and your stomach would rather you turn to Lindt Truffles. While this seems a simple fast, it usually reveals how quickly and how often we use another source to offer us life (Scripture calls this idolatry). If chocolate isn’t your go-to, consider coffee, or something else that offers comfort and distraction, whether that’s carbs, meat or anything else.

6. Sarcasm

Sarcasm, judgement, criticism. More often than not, I use these tools to defend myself against other people, to categorize them rather than really listen to them. The root of the word sarcasm derives from a Greek word that literally means to rend flesh. Giving up sarcasm for Lent means that I choose to look at people through God’s eyes, and to spend energy noticing when I’m choosing my own interpretation of their actions or words instead. Some people call this fasting from critical words. I just call it choosing to love.

7. Anxiety

At the risk of quoting too many of Lauren Winner’s books in one blog post, I’m nonetheless going to share what Winner describe giving up for Lent in her most recent book, Still: Notes on a Mid-Faith Crisis. This time, instead of reading, she was charged with giving up her addiction to anxious thoughts (which manifested themselves in obsessing about whether or not she’d turned off the tea kettle to checking her bank account multiple times a day). Instead, when wracked with anxious thoughts, Winner took a few deep breaths, and allowed God to hold her still for 15 minutes. During that Lenten season, she admitted to living by those 15 minute incriments.

You may not struggle with anxiety over your bank account, but what about your kids? Do you choose to indulge in worry rather than trust on a regular basis? Instead of resting in the provision of God, are you thinking about how to control your 401(k), your retirement, your future?

What mental habit might God be inviting Himself into, asking you to let Him handle that part of your soul for the next 40 days? Can you screw up your courage and say ‘yes’ to life lived without obsessing over what tomorrow may bring?

8. Television

With a full season of Downton Abbey to catch up on, this might be a tough one for me. But how often do I chose television as a way of numbing out instead of interacting with my husband at the end of the day? As someone who works at home, I sometimes turn the TV on just to have voices in the house. What would it be like if I asked God to speak instead?

What might you do with 40 TV-less days? Perhaps you might take more walks, and discover a coffee shop in your neighborhood that you never knew existed. Perhaps you might read more, immersing yourself in stories that catch your imagination on fire. Maybe you’ll take up a new hobby, or choose to read through the Gospels (a traditional Lenten undertaking) instead of catching up on Cupcake Wars. And maybe, just maybe, God will sneak up on you and transform your relationship with Him into something way more interesting than reality TV.

9. Cruelty

Doesn’t sound too hard, does it? Giving up on being cruel probably appears, on the face of it, to be a sacrifice already accomplished. You don’t kick your dog or hit your spouse. You’re not apt to road rage or deliberately sabotaging your coworkers.

But how about how cruel you are to yourself? What is it that you tell yourself when you’ve failed, missed a deadline, broken a glass? What names do you call yourself by? What kinds of things do you say to yourself? Stupid idiot! What a failure! You’re worth less than nothing!

These words we would never say to our child or our friend, but we say them to ourselves, often hundreds of times a day.

What if, during Lent, you began to let God speak in those times of self-cruelty, instead of berating yourself. What might you be surprised to find He says over you?

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us.’ We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There’s nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we’re liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.” (A Return to Love: Reflections on the Principles of “A Course in Miracles”, Harper Collins, 1992. From Chapter 7, Section 3])

10. Busyness

How are you doing?, we ask one another. Oh, fine, we laugh breezily. Busy!

Busyness is the plague of our time. It is so easy to be busy, so easy to be full of things to do, people to see, work to accomplish. What if Lent this year is an invitation to spaciousness? What if it is a call to let go of social obligation and a schedule full of activities and instead choose for leisure, rest, renewal? Lent doesn’t have to be a muscular grasping for spiritual strength. What if, instead, it is a relaxation into the arms of the One who holds us all.

What if you gave up being busy for Lent? What if at Easter someone asked you how you are doing, and you were able to answer, Not busy at all!

11. Avoiding

I suspect I’m not the only one among us who has a junk drawer in her kitchen. It’s the drawer where all the odds and ends go, the place where loose paper clips, dead batteries and bits of ribbon end up. It’s full of things that I’m going to organize one day. But you know and I know that I’m avoiding looking at the things that I don’t know what to do with—I’m tucking them away so that I don’t have to deal with my own helpless questions about whether or not I actually need that third tube of super glue, or whether I’m ever going to become the kind of woman that sews lost buttons onto shirts.

What if, for Lent, we gave up avoiding those questions? What if together, God and I tackled some of those places of clutter and avoidance—in my kitchen drawer, or in my own heart? What if I gave up avoiding having that hard conversation with my friend, or avoiding the fact that I’m not going to ever be the type of person who knits? What if, instead, I called her up and told her what was going on, what if I just threw away that unused ball of yarn and gave up the pretense of being anything other than who I am?

What kind of Lenten freedom might that be?

12. Prayerlessness

Perhaps this is a bit more of a taking up than a putting down. Or perhaps you are putting down the habit of relying on yourself and your own strengths.

Giving up prayerlessness for Lent could involve picking up a practice of prayer that brings joy or expectation to your day. What if that’s praying by doodling? (See Sybil MacBeth’s Praying in Color.) Or maybe it’s praying a fixed hour prayer, using a psalter or prayer book (I recommend The Paraclete Psalter or Phyllis Tickle’s The Divine Hours Pocket Edition or J. Philip Newell’s Celtic Prayers from Iona.) Or maybe it’s picking up a practice of journaling, dialoguing with God about your day, inviting Him into all of its nooks and crannies. Or maybe it’s walking prayer, letting your steps be the imprecation that brings you deeper into His heart. Or maybe it’s song, or silence, or lighting a candle. Maybe it’s praying the Psalms.

Whatever it is, let it be joy. Which isn’t to say that each moment of prayer will be divine bliss—or any moment for that matter. What it is to say is that prayer doesn’t need to be a grinding, painful process. Giving up prayerlessness means showing up to a relationship.

I promise that God will show up, too.

13. Self-Righteousness

And here’s the last suggestion. It may be the hardest. Give up yourself. For Lent, let go of wanting to be right, needing to be right, believing that you are right. For 40 days (you can be right again after that!), give up winning arguments by running over top of people (heck, give up arguing). Give up needing to be noticing when you walk into a room, or needing other people to agree with your [fill in the blank]. In an election year, that could be giving up needing people to agree with your position on an economic policy, or (*braces for the angry emails*) your position on abortion.

Letting go of self-righteousness means giving up the burden of having to be holy. It means accepting the free gift that God gives us in Christ, and choosing instead to turn toward the holiness that He gives us. It means letting go of striving and rule-keeping, abandoning our ability to define ourselves by what group we belong to or accolades that we’ve earned. You could even give up needing to pick the right practice for Lent.

Giving up self-righteouness means giving up being right, and picking up being God’s.

So, what about you? Have you decided on a Lenten practice that brings light and whole-heartenedness? Where are you in the journey?

This is the week preceding the beginning of Lent, whose advent is marked by what I used to jokingly refer to as “Identify a Catholic Day,” Ash Wednesday. As an Anglican, I now somewhat resent my former self for that oversimplification—there are many, many traditions within the Christian Church that mark the entrance into the journey of Lent with the imposition of ashes and the humbling words, “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”

Traditionally, the week before Lent is a time to think about forgiveness—our own, and offering it to others who have harmed us, but I haven’t needed tradition to have forgiveness on my mind. God’s been bringing it up left, right and center.

And, frankly, I haven’t appreciated it one bit.

Forgiveness is a tough thing to talk about, especially because the process of forgiveness is often reduced to a simple formula: get over it and get on with it.

While God does tell us to forgive one another, the journey to forgiveness is often a long and winding road—one that leads through thickets of skin-catching bitterness and expanses of anger and denial before we find ourselves at the baptizing river of Life.

That’s why I’m grateful for writers like Janet Hagberg, who go well beyond the “forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us” and provide us a map for the journey into our own hearts of darkness, and out the other side into forgiveness and healing.

As she writes on her blog, At River’s Edge,

Forgiving may be the most difficult task in our lives. To forgive, we have to let go of our resentments, our need to be right or to be vindicated or to see justice done. Forgiveness moves us from justice to mercy. But once we have been wronged, our hurt urges us to seek revenge, or at least vindication. It is the human response. Only when we approach forgiveness as a calling, as a holy process that heals our souls, do we find an approach that really heals us.

In her wonderful reflection, which is worth reading in its entirety here, she talks about some of the signposts on the way:

• Telling our stories, but not getting stuck in them

• Taking responsibility for our part in the story

• Moving forward through the challenges of forgiveness

• Remembering not to forgive too soon

I know that I’m still in the middle of the long journey of forgiveness, but I feel God nudging me to move beyond telling my story to safe people, forward into taking responsibility and moving forward to find those healing waters that He has in store for me.

I don’t think that I’ll have this all together by the start of Lent this week, and I can feel myself trying to squirm away and sit in my own self-righteousness rather than doing the dark work of seeing my own sin in my story, but I’m sharing this with you not only to offer the resource, but to say that I don’t want to sit there any more. I want to be on the journey.

Maybe I’ll meet you there.

A few folks have asked me to recommend a Lenten devotional or resource to guide them through Lent, as I did during the Advent season.

I’ve been thinking about that off and on, and today Sara Zarr beat me to it in this wonderful post on her blog. If Sara’s words aren’t enough to prompt you to pick up Paula Huston’s incredible Simplifying the Soul: Lenten Practices to Renew Your Spirit, well, I don’t know what to do with you.

But, if you really need another suggestion, I also recommend Bread & Wine: Readings for Lent & Easter.

Much grace & peace to you as we all turn toward the coming Lenten season.

I first “met” Kristin Ritzau on the pages of her book, A Beautiful Mess: A Perfectionist’s Journey Through Self-Care (go buy it now, seriously). As I read, I discovered a kindred spirit, a young woman intent on living well and yet tired of the brutal violence done to her own soul in the name of “performance” or “perfectionism.” Not only was I delighted to find another director my age (the field is predominantly populated by those over 45), I was encouraged by the deft ways that she spoke truth and healing into the soul-numbing assumptions of our culture (both Christian and secular).

When I had the opportunity to meet Kristin in person at one of her A Beautiful Mess seminars, I discovered that all of my delight and encouragement has been well-placed. Kristin isn’t someone who just writes about the deep truths of the spiritual life—she lives them. In all the messy beauty of a life of intention, Kristin is full of grace, kindness and love. I’m excited and honored to introduce her to you.

Introduce yourself to the Anam Cara readers. Who are you? Where do you live? What do you do other than spiritual direction?

My name is Kristin Ritzau, and I am a recovering perfectionist who lives outside Los Angeles on an urban homestead.  Currently, I am an adjunct professor at Azusa Pacific University, but I am also an author, speaker, friend, wife, and chicken owner. 

What brought you to the ministry of spiritual direction?

I know it might sound funny to be a “recovering perfectionist,” but, seriously, spiritual direction brought me into recovery as someone whose life had always been measured by the expectations I thought everyone else had of me. Being burned out and tired all of the time were not ways I wanted to live anymore, but I didn’t know how to go about my life differently. As Henri Nouwen writes, burnout is not a sign that you are doingGod’s will.  And when I finally faced that reality, spiritual direction was my medicine.  I learned about spiritual formation in seminary and for the last six years have loved learning more and more about it by getting my certificate as well as attending week long contemplative prayer retreats every summer.  My soul now longs for this way of life and keeps me investing into spiritual direction.  

Why do you think spiritual direction is valuable?

To remember that I am not in control.  As someone who always thought I needed control to survive, the value of spiritual direction has been the discipline of continuing to die to my false self and constantly reemerge as more and more of the person God created me to be.  In the ministry I facilitate, A Beautiful Mess, it is my passion to create safe space for our authentic selves. Every season I see more and more need and value for these spaces—spaces where we can realize the beauty in the mess instead of trying to clean it up all the time.  Spiritual direction allows us to be ourselves with the comfort of the Spirit (and hopefully others) in a never-ending organic process with the Creator.  It’s invaluable!

What’s your favorite thing about being a spiritual director?

The mystery.  Every time I lead an exercise or am with a person or writing, it is a wonderful mystery of what will emerge.  The peeling back of layer after layer can be painful, but honestly, it gives me so much hope to know that there is always more to unearth in myself and others and most of all of God.  The moments when stories, visions, and prayer click into place too—the “OH, that’s why this is connected to that!” moments—it is like a puzzle to which I might point out the border pieces, but working with others after we dump out all of the pieces out of the box and try to put it together in a new way, it is a joy like none other. 

What question about spiritual direction do you get asked the most? (And/or what question do you wish you got asked?)

Get asked: What is spiritual direction? What does a session look like?  Why do you do this?  I’m thinking of becoming a spiritual director—what do I do? 

Wish I got asked: To collaborate more—it can feel like lonely job sometimes because there is not always a centralized group around this burgeoning profession. I love doing this work, but I truly believe that together we are better, so I guess I have a question I’ve been pondering—how can we all support each other?  

You were just given a yacht. What would you name it?

Mysterious Journey.  However, that kind of sounds like a Dateline special that ends tragically… so maybe not….  

Give us your life story in 6 words.

Dysfunction. Trouble. Found. Deconstruction. Wonder. Bliss. (Repeat)

Okay, you can have more than 6 words. Share your full bio.

My perfectionism was fueled at an early age by feeling the need to be noticed to due a workaholic father and practically single mother who was worried about my chronically sick younger brother. Even though I grew up in a faith-based home, I truly didn’t understand the love of Jesus until I was in college.  It was there surrounded by a true community that I began to face my past and felt called to help others.  This led me to seminary shortly after getting married to my husband, Nathan.  We made our way to Los Angeles and were met with some hard realities of me becoming very sick, a new marriage, and job searches.  Those were hard times where I came face to face with the guilt and shame I carried for so long because I never felt like I was enough.  In facing those realities with a new community, my ministry, A Beautiful Mess was birthed out of this time with a group of women called to live authentically. Simultaneously, I was working with Student Life at Azusa Pacific University and fell in love with the educational process and creating safe space to learn and ask hard questions.  I saw this need in myself as much as I did in what God was calling me to do vocationally and recently became an adjunct professor to invest in a new way of exploration.  In our home life, this calling has led to planting most of our property with vegetables and raising chickens in our backyard.  We long to live a simple life, but that doesn’t mean easy, and I plan on exploring what this looks like in much more depth as I head back to school to begin a Ph.D. program in Theology and Spiritual Formation very soon. 

To learn more you can visit kristinritzau.com, I would love to hear from you! 

To find out about A Beautiful Mess and/or contribute to the site, check out abeautifulmess.org

Anything you’d like to add?

I appreciate what you’re building here, Tara.  Your collaborative spirit and authentic journey are examples to myself and others.  Thank you for making this space.  

* * *

Thanks, Kristin! I’m honored to be on the journey with you, and excited to explore together what those collaborative places and spaces are inviting us all into!

There have been a number of wonderful articles and blog posts recently that I've wanted to share with you.

Here they are, in no particular order:

Welcoming Tenderness

A beautiful blog post by Christine Paintner that talks about making space for the parts of ourselves that we otherwise surpress. An invitation to tenderness.

Be The Person You Were Meant To Be

A reprint of an essay by Anne Lamott. The title says it all.

Prozac v. Jesus

A beautiful, honest reflection for those of us who struggle with depression.

I met Jenn Brukiewa (I believe) the very first month that I moved to Colorado Springs. Looking to connect with the spiritual formation community in this area, I managed to get myself invited to the very first meeting of the (now sadly defunct) Spiritual Formation Network of Colorado Springs. For a long time, Jenn was someone I secretly admired from around the room during our meetings. Since God both has a wonderful sense of humor and is incredibly generous, Jenn and I have become good friends—soul friends, even. I have the great grace of getting together with her every two weeks for breakfast, where we talk about our lives, God, our families and whether or not to have the same thing we always eat at the greasy spoon diner that hosts us. I’m thrilled to introduce such a beautiful soul to y’all, and show you yet another face of spiritual direction.

Introduce yourself to the Anam Cara readers. Who are you? Where do you live? What do you do other than spiritual direction?

Hello! My name is Jennifer Joy Brukiewa. [broo-kev-uh]. (It’s Polish.) I reside in Colorado Springs with the love of my life and husband of almost 19 years and our three girls 4, 9 and 12 years old. The majority of my time and heart is given to caring for my family and homeschooling our amazing, unique girls. We love good books and read. A lot. I have a picture book fetish and love good classic children’s literature. I believe a well told story is honey for the heart and soul. I’m also passionate about encouraging God’s beloveds through speaking, teaching, and retreat leading to sink deeper into His grace. It brings joy to my heart to create sacred space for others to slow down, attend to their hearts and listen for the voice of the Good Shepherd.

What brought you to the ministry of spiritual direction?

Though I have only just completed my two-year spiritual direction certification this last spring, spiritual direction was placed in my heart long before I had even heard of the term. My husband and I have been in church ministry together since we met 20 years ago on a leadership team for our college church group. I have always been drawn to spending one on one time with people, listening to their stories, and walking with them in the deep heart places. My passion has been for others to have deeper intimacy with the Father in their daily life, for them to be more at rest in the gospel, and hear the gentle whispers of the Spirit more clearly. It was natural for me to receive formal training in spiritual formation and direction when God brought the opportunity along over three years ago.

Why do you think spiritual direction is valuable?

Safe places for the heart can be so very rare, even in the church. My favorite descriptive words for the space provided in spiritual direction are soul sanctuary. To be able to come, share your heart honestly and know you are heard and not alone; that in itself is so valuable. Each story the Author writes with each life is unique and beautiful. We all need to hear our stories reflected back to us in order to better pick up on the themes and invitations the Good Shepherd is drawing us into. Our society is a busy, loud one. How desperately we need to slow down and listen to our spiritual heartbeats! Doing this regularly with a spiritual director/companion is one way of intentionally walking in the light. (1John 1:7) A safe soul space with other saints who are mature in their walk with Jesus is crucial for the health of our own walk with God and one another.

 What’s your favorite thing about being a spiritual director?

Witnessing the True Spiritual Director at work in the lives of His loved ones! I fall more in love with Him as I witness over and over the wonder of the life of Christ alive in His saints. Every season of the soul is beautiful and full of hope because of His life given to us. Even long winters are sacred times of growth though life may seems frozen over. I consider it an honor to wait and pray with another soul for however long it takes for spring to arrive.

You were just given a yacht. What would you name it?

“Whimsy”. I like that word.

Give us your life story in 6 words.

Loneliness. Shame. Hiding. Seen. Beloved. Joy.

Okay, you can have more than 6 words. Share your full bio.

I grew up in Southern California the youngest of four girls by ten years in a relationally turbulent, Christian home. I have known Jesus for as long as I can remember, but did not go to church often. I was loved well as a child, but I always felt I was uniquely flawed somehow. I feared that God’s grace would run out and believed I deserved to be abandoned. I was homeschooled and had a pretty isolated childhood. I started a professional career in musical theater and singing at age 12. When I was 17 I found a church to attend out of a driving spiritual hunger and longing for Christian friends. There my relationship with God flourished in new ways. That is where I met my husband, David. We married on May 15^th,1993 when I was just 19 years old. We moved to Orlando, Florida where he attended seminary, we worked together in youth ministry, and I worked at Disney World as a singer/actress. (Yes, one of the parts I played was Belle.) Those early years were rough as I struggled with depression and panic attacks feeling full of shame and inadequacy. The Lord tenderly lead us to a church where the gospel was preached in such a way that we were filled with new hope in Christ. The shame and guilt I had held all my life were beginning to dissolve as the people of River of Life PCA loved on us and fed us Christ. As they saw me and loved me, I experienced Christ seeing me and loving me, broken as I was. My soul came out of hiding. In 2000 having just given birth to my first daughter, my husband and I came here to Colorado Springs to start a new ministry. While living here the last 11 years, we have experienced a full cycle of seasons, both literally and spiritually. Right now we are feeling the warmth of summertime. We are deeply rooted and blessed with a peace-filled place to live with our three girls, and a beautiful community of faith.

For more information on Attending Grace Ministries, visit my new website at www.attendinggrace.com.

Feel free to call me with any questions you may have @ 719-464-6189

Or email me @ JenJoyBruk@q.com

Anything you’d like to add?

Tara, thank you for the interview. I praise the Giver of all good gifts for you, my Anam Cara.

I posted this today over on the Anam Cara Facebook page. Please join in the community there (or here!), and thanks in advance for your support!

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As I've mentioned before on this Facebook page, I'm currently writing a book on the intersections of spirituality & physicality, to be published by InterVarsity Press late 2012 or early 2013. (If you're interested, you can read the original announcements here). My deadline is June 1, which is rapidly approaching. And when I say rapidly, I mean that in the "runaway train gaining speed as it careens down an mountainside toward my struggling form tied to the tracks" kind of way.

As any of you who have attempted anything even remotely artistic know, there's a lot of fear wrapped up in the process of creating. And there's a lot of resistance. As a director, I recognize and acknowledge the gifts of both fear and resistance. As an author on a deadline, I need to push through the fear, and kick resistance to the curb.

But to be honest with y'all fear and resistance have been kicking my butt recently. Almost anything, including the Most Hated Household Chore (the Folding of Laundry), can distract me from my writing. Editing work! Dish washing! Pinterest! Castle re-runs! Dog-training! I'm like a chipmunk with ADHD. 

So, to settle myself down, and to break through the creative road blocks I'm facing, I'm declaring afternoons at Anam Cara to be Artistic Afternoons. (If art really isn't your thing, be patient, we'll get back to normal after June 1.) To keep myself inspired and motivated, I'll be posting quotes from writing resouces like Steven Pressfield's "The War of Art" and Anne Lamott's "Bird by Bird." I'll share writing prompts and ideas—which you're invited to respond to when you feel led.

And I'll also be posting prayer requests. More than anything else, knowing that I have the support of a wonderful community like you helps to keep me focused and creating. Writing can be a lonely process, and knowing that you're alongside of me (and, I'll shyly admit, keeping me accountable) helps immeasurably.

As I go, I'll be specific as I can in my requests for prayer. I invite you to pray, to post your prayers and to be part of this journey with me. In the end, we're going to write this book together. I can't do it without you.

Much grace & peace,

Tara

P.S. Don't worry, you'll still be seeing great quotes, contemplative exercises and midday meditations at Anam Cara, as well!

I have to say, y’all have really surprised and delighted me with the depth of your questions about the practice of spiritual direction. While I by no means expected anything shallow or silly, I have been impressed by questions that made me, as a seasoned director, stop, think and wonder, Yes, why is that? I appreciate that not just because it means you’re engaging and asking questions that matter to you, but also because it opens my eyes to see the practice of spiritual direction from a fresh perspective.

So, on to today’s question from Joel Anderson:

Are there any key strategies or practices that form a part of a healthy director-directee relationship?

I think that I can begin to answer this question by starting with the building blocks to any healthy relationship. While there are things that are specific to the direction relationship (and I’ll get to those in another post), the place to start is with answering the question, Are there any key strategies or practices that form a part of a healthy _______________ relationship? You can fill in that blank with almost anything, from marriage to friendship to employer-employee relationships and everything in between.

Respect

Respect is a fundamental building block of any relationship. Respect doesn’t mean that you are always on the same page, but it does mean that you always honor the other person and their choices. It is important both that you feel respected and that you respect the other person in the relationship. In spiritual direction, this means that you are willing and able to honor your director’s time, space, suggestions and that you come to your times together in a way that honors the fact that he has been praying for you and holding the time intentionally well before you got there. It also means that you can expect your director to respect your time, space, suggestions and the sacrifice of your own time to be there by being intentional, listening well and not imposing, teaching, speaking over you.

Open, Honest Communication

Any relationship will become twisted and dysfunctional if it is not undergirded by open, honest communicaiton. This doesn’t mean that you have to spill your guts instantly, but it does mean that over time you choose to express what is going on with you to the best of your ability. If you’re tired when you walk into your direction appointment, a healthy director-directee relationship means that you’re able to express your fatigue without your director causing you to feel guilty or ashamed. Open, honest communication creates a space where you can feel heard, safe and accepted. This involves listening without interrupting, asking clarifying questions when things are unclear, and seeking to understand before seeking to be understood.

Trust

“We’re never so vulnerable than when we trust someone – but paradoxically, if we cannot trust, neither can we find love or joy” – Walter Anderson

I find trust to be one of the most difficult and and yet most foundational aspects of any healthy relationship. Trusting another doesn’t mean believing that they will never hurt or fail you. Instead, it means believing that the other person doesn’t want to hurt or fail you—that they want to best for you, and that they genuinely care for you. Trusting someone or something means that you have confidence in them coupled with a willingness to rely on them. In a spiritual direction relationship, trust means having confidence that your director deeply wants the best for you in all things, and desires more and more of God for you. Trusting your director means relying on her to draw you deeper into the presence of God, or to help you in discerning God’s movements in your life.

Boundaries

Appropriate boundaries are important to any relationship. Respecting and maintaining those boundaries allows us to feel safe with one another and to know that the inner sanctuaries of our hearts won’t be imposed upon or violated.

Nonetheless, I find that most people don’t know what healthy boundaries are—in almost any relationship. Because “boundaries” has become a psychological buzz-word, many people use it as a way of trying to manipulate others to do what they want. This is a misuse of the term.

Healthy boundaries in a spiritual direction relationship mean a few things:

1. You value your own time, and your spiritual director’s time.

This means that if your director suggests a time to meet, and you have 6 different appointments that day, you say ‘no’, instead of trying to squeeze the appointment in. It also means that you turn off your phone during spiritual direction appointments (and you expect your director to do the same.)

2. Your director shares his policies with you, and you understand and respect them.

A spiritual director that you meet with should have a series of policies that they have developed around confidentiality, lateness, cancellation of appointments, and communication outside of the direction time. These policies will be unique to each director, but a clear communication of these policies is vital. It’s also important that you don’t simply skim through those policies without clearly understanding and respecting them.

As an example, I have a policy that I can’t guarantee that I will respond to phone messages or emails regarding your spiritual life outside of the direction appointment. While I do my best to respond where and when appropriate, I reserve the right to respond instead during our regularly scheduled time. This doesn’t mean that I don’t care about you, am not praying for you, or don’t understand that you may be in crisis or struggling with an important issue. What it does mean is that I truly do believe that God is good and that He can and will meet you in between the times that we are together. I have this policy so that I can honor each of the directees that I journey with, and love them well, as well as loving my own family and guarding my own time when we’re not together.

Kindness

I think that kindness is one of the most underrated, yet most important, fruits of the Spirit. In any relationship, is it more important to you to be kind than having your own way, being in control, or being right? Do you want to be heard more than you want to be kind?

Kindness is a close kin to love. Scripture talks of God’s loving-kindness or hesed. In a healthy director-directee relationship, it is important that you feel that you’re being treated kindly—and that you are treating your director kindly. Do you feel like love and kindness are the driving forces of your relationship?

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What about you? Do you think I’ve missed any key elements of a healthy relationship?

Next Up: Practices and perspectives that are specific to a healthy spiritual direction relationship.