Leading as a Spiritual Director

3/29/22

Dear friend,

You may or may not know that I used to own and run a contemplative book coaching business. From 2016-2020, I had a company called Bookwifery that helped contemplative leaders birth their books into the world.

It was an unexpected way God merged my professional career as a book editor with my vocational call as a spiritual director when I had to set down my work in spiritual direction for a period of time.

If you've been following along with my #becomingthewoman_cs series on Instagram the past couple months, you know I went through a long soul-suffering season from 2016 to 2018. During that time, I was no longer able to sit in soul-to-soul space with individuals, as the container for my own soul had grown increasingly frayed.

It was a great mercy to be given the work of Bookwifery.

But that soul-suffering season was messy.

I noticed my capacity to purely listen to another (even my own husband) dwindled and dwindled. I felt raw. Tempestuous. Full of my own stuff.

There was so much inside me, I didn't know if I'd ever be able to listen in a pure way to another again.

It brought up the question: Had I lost my charism for spiritual direction?

A charism is a gift given by God, and in the context of spiritual direction, I experienced it is a pure gift of empty interior space so as to hold hospitable soul space for another. It's the ability to purely listen to another and Spirit without one's own self getting in the way.

I had always experienced my vocation as a spiritual director this way, and it felt given—a gift of God, not mustered by my own self.

Now that felt long gone.

Would it ever come back?

About six months ago, I shared with one of my closest soul friends (who also happens to be a spiritual director) that I still carried this question with me: Had I lost my charism as a spiritual director through that difficult soul time?

She laughed—yes, laughed.

(You know the best soul friends are the ones who can laugh at your earnest but silly questions, right?)

"You haven't lost your charism!" she said. "You never did. I've watched you exercise all the gifts of a spiritual director this whole time—even through that hard soul time. God has been redirecting the gift. Instead of in a one-on-one context, you're being invited to exercise it on behalf of a community now. That's what you're doing in the Light House."

Redirecting it.

Exercising the gift on behalf of a community.

Which is causing me to name something new: I'm a leader who is a spiritual director. Or, rather, maybe the flip version is more accurate, as another soul friend recently suggested: I'm a spiritual director who is a leader.

How does the truth of my identity as a spiritual director impact my leadership?

I already know some answers to that question.

I will always be one who pauses and listens for Spirit when it comes to decisions we need to make. I'm more interested in discernment than in trends or good ideas. I notice when way opens and closes. I seek the way of wisdom and invitation, not empire or forcefulness.

And I care about the spiritual lives of those I lead.

This truth of my leadership means I will want to know how your discernment is going, what your invitations in this season look like, what's supporting your connection to Spirit right now, how you're noticing and responding to the presence of God in your life these days.

It's why we're offering a retreat day about streams of spirituality and inviting you to come—because in this community I lead, we care about these things.

This notion of my charism sticking around but being redirected on behalf of a community is still new for me. It feels like I've put on a pair of new black-rimmed glasses and am looking around and seeing new things, or seeing things differently.

I'm going to keep learning what this means for a while yet. I hope to keep sharing what I learn with you.

Yours in contemplative light,
Christianne