Last month on the blog, we explored the call to serve God and neighbor, wrestling with the intersection of our unique calling and the world’s deep needs. These are deep waters, requiring the activation of our full selves and constant re-attunement to the contexts we serve and to our rapidly changing world. And when we fully invest ourselves in that work, the cost can be steep. In the midst of our activism, prophetic truth-telling, and informed service, how can we nurture our own ongoing formation?
That’s what we’re diving into on the blog this month: how to open ourselves to the nurture and care that is required to sustain our calling as fully embodied people committed to the movement of hope and healing. It might be worth pausing on that last sentence. What comes to mind when you hear the word nurture? Somewhere along the way, many of us have internalized an assumption that the need to be nurtured is something to be outgrown, something no longer experienced by people who are competent, mature, and capable of effecting change in the world.
We believe, though, that the deep need for nurture is a central part of the human experience, and it is essential to the art of growing in wisdom, empathy, and clarity of calling. As we lead, care for others, and respond to the needs around us, the reservoirs we draw from will run dry if we are not open to receiving care from God, ourselves, and each other—ultimately leaving us burned out in our work and cynical about the possibility of meaningful change.
We hope you will join us in this conversation as we hear from alumni, students, faculty, and staff about how their particular identities and stories shape their work in the world, and how they receive nurture and care along the way. May we remain curious about whatever resistance might emerge, about those places in us that might feel shame about our need for nurture, and may we continue learning to open ourselves—individually and collectively—to the care that fuels our formation and sparks creative, courageous work in the world.