“It’s not good for Adam to be alone” says God in Genesis 2:18. But we know that being with other people is not easy. In my previous insights I have looked at different patterns of behaviour that we may default to when we feel anxious or stressed. These include triangles, fusion, over-functioning, and cutoff.
All these patterns relate to the way we interact with other people. In addition, because even our closest relationships take place in a wider context, they also influence the systems we inhabit. Murray Bowen brought these patterns together in his Family Systems Theory. He observed how we often develop them from a young age in our family of origin. Whatever shape that family may take, and that they seem to be passed down from one generation to the next. If it’s not good to be alone, but being fused is not so great either, what is the way through?
A Trip to the Lake District
(CC BY-SA 2.0).
Many years ago I walked up Helvellyn in the Lake District National Park, the third highest peak in England. On the way to the summit the route took us along Striding Edge a one-mile narrow ridge of rock. Steep drops on either side make this a dangerous route. A slip can have serious, sometimes fatal, consequences. Thankfully, I walked the ridge in good conditions rather than snow. Finding our way through complex relationships can feel a bit like walking along a narrow ridge. On the one side we can fall into fusion, on the other we can descend into cutoff. Fusion may take us into the perils of unhelpful triangles. Overfunctioning may build resentment and cutoff as others withdraw. And these descriptions only scratch the surface of what is possible in complex relational systems.
Differentiation
Bowen used the word differentiation to describe a way of behaving that navigates the narrow ridge between cutoff and fusion. The idea of differentiation has an elegant simplicity and at the same time is deeply profound. Put simply the task is to stay connected and be distinct at the same time. The challenge is to be true to ourselves and our own values, respect others who hold different views, and not withdraw when the emotional temperature rises.
Last time we looked at how Joseph did this with his brothers, but there are many other examples in the scriptures. Ruth could have returned to Moab but instead promises to stay with Naomi (Ruth 1:16). Jesus stands up to the disciples when they try to stop children coming to him for a blessing without removing them from his inner circle (Matthew 19:13-15). Martha in her grief still finds the courage to challenge Jesus after the death of her brother Lazarus (John 11:21-22). In our own lives it might mean making a family visit even when it’s not convenient or initiating a difficult conversation which we would rather avoid.
Going Forward
The relationship patterns identified in Family Systems Theory are as old as humanity itself. Bowen did not invent them, he observed them and gave us a model that we can see in biblical narratives, in history, in our own families and in ourselves. If we are to successfully navigate the narrow ridge of differentiation, it can be helpful to have someone walking alongside us. This is what coaching can offer, not to provide all the answers but to ask the helpful questions that allow us to move forward with greater clarity. If this resonates with you, why not get in touch?
If this article has resonated with you, and you would like to explore how this way of thinking might help you develop your leadership, enhance your wellbeing, or reflect more deeply on your ministry, I would be delighted to have an initial conversation with you.
You can book a no-obligation 30-minute conversation using the button below.
I love it!
Here’s my attempt at saying some of this as a poem
We are tugged by two invisible ropes:
one tied fast around the village well,
the other vanishing over distant hills.
We long to sit beside familiar fires,
yet also pack a bag and miss the bus.
Poor Aaron heard the crowd clear its throat
and fashioned livestock out of nervous gold.
The younger son mistook escape for wings
and found that freedom sometimes feeds the pigs.
Both urges carry gifts beneath their coats.
One builds a table, one unlocks a gate.
The trick is neither melting into soup
nor living as a turnip on the moon.
Jesus, somehow, managed both at once:
a boy who stayed himself, yet stayed connected,
a burning bush that singed no blade of grass.
Today I faced two hundred emails blinking
like hungry pigeons lined along a roof.
I made my lists, rearranged my lists,
then searched for tasks with holy awkwardness:
the phone call waiting patiently to sting,
the careful system needing less of me.
Perhaps distinction grows in little acts,
where truth keeps company with love.