On Mission Statements and A Rule of Life

“a little discipline to safeguard love.” –St. Benedict

I first wrote a mission statement more than a couple decades ago prompted by FranklinCovey DayPlanners, particularly popular in the mid-to-late 90s, and The Path by Laurie Beth Jones. It was a short statement, worthwhile, and so very earnest because in addition to the statement, I also included definitions of all the key words. I don’t remember how I thought about it in daily life, but looking back now I do see correlation between things I did at that time and that statement. Whether the statement truly acted as a guide or simply as an observation of what I already knew about myself and what I was doing, I’m not sure. Before too long, though, that sheet of paper went to its long-term rest in the pocket of a notebook.

In between then and now, I’ve written statements of what I’m about in terms of my writing life and included them on my blog/website. And there are short snippets of bio on social media. But until recently, I’ve not written anything that I think of as a mission statement. Last summer I started meeting with a spiritual director once a month and early on, she encouraged me to write a mission statement, to put into words what it is that I’m about. When she initially suggested it, I nodded in agreement that yes, this was something I should do but then never got around to it.

Several months ago, though, something shifted inside me, meaning change was underway. The spiritual director’s advice came back to me and over days and weeks I wrote a mission statement. It’s quite a different statement from the one I wrote nearly 30 years ago, and appropriately so. In addition to the statement, I identified the domains of my life and how that statement may play out in each. I also wrote a reminder note to myself to think each day about whether I lived as was meant to that day. I want this statement and its corollary pieces to continue to grow with me.

Shortly after I printed out my work, I started reading an Advance Copy of The Spacious Path: Practicing the Restful Way of Jesus in a Fragmented World by Tamara Hill Murphy. Tamara writes about establishing a personal “Rule of Life” that incorporates prayer, work, study, hospitality, and rest, these domains stemming from St. Benedict’s pivotal writing on this topic in the fifth century and practiced today within Benedictine monasteries. Something particularly resonated with me early in my reading when Tamara wrote that the phrase “Rule of Life” is literally translated from the Latin, requla vitae, with the original meaning of regula tracing back to a Greek architectural term. She writes,

“Where our modern ears hear ‘rule’ and think ‘requirement of the law,’ the etymology invites us to hear ‘rule’ and think ‘repeated architectural pattern.’ This is a much more spacious and fluid interpretation of a word that we often associate with strict and inflexible.”

Further on in the book, Tamara writes that St. Benedict identified a purpose of his Rule of Life as “a little discipline to safeguard love.” Love of God, love of others, love of self. I’m so glad Tamara included this in her book. I need this reminder that the ultimate goal is not to get things done, but the goal is love. And here is the means “to safeguard love.”

We’re asked to not think about what are the rules that must be followed, but rather, how will I, with intention, abide in the spaces of my life? How will I fill out the spaces of my life? What will I put in and what will I remove?

After reading Tamara’s book, I’m going to think of my mission statement differently. I’m going to print out a new version with the title changed to “Rule of Life.” I’m going to think of the labeled domains as spacious places through which the path of my life travels. I’m going add Benedict’s words right at the top, and add a few clear expectations of myself so as to “safeguard love.”

The Spacious Path is filled with wise guidance, so much more than what I’ve written about here. If you read it, I’d love to hear your thoughts.

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[Photo: taken of a cloud and an airplane on an evening of a day filled with Canadian smoke.]