We’ve returned from the 2024 YOBBERS Retreat, our sixth celebration with our Patreon community. “Where does this one rank?” I’m often asked of our retreats each year.
Well, I’ve been to all six: one of only three guys who can say that now. And while I can’t pick a favorite (at least not publicly), I do feel this retreat was the most logistically sound of all six. From a leadership perspective, I think we ran a few things more effectively this time — always with room for improvement, of course.
This year we also had the most leadership participation of any retreat, and can I just say this with a beaming grin? It’s such a joy to see more of our longstanding community members become leaders in our community, year after year.
I couldn’t do this — the retreat or this overarching ministry of YOB — without them.
Something I appreciated most about this year’s retreat compared to the previous five was the commitment to our theme — “At Home?” — which carried over from our summer podcast theme of “At Home” (only without that alluring question mark).
Earlier this year, I couldn’t shake this image of a birdcage for some sort of visual aid at this retreat. The oft vague “birdcage idea” led me to some AI image generations, most notably this one:
I grew transfixed by this AI image: a sparrow locked in a birdcage, the key just out of reach as two other sparrows fly freely. I started feeling things, seeing things. Unifying, also conflicting, soul-stirring things.
This AI image turned into creating an art piece at our retreat, something we’d never done. I figured why not tap into our community’s creativity?
I handed off this framework to one of our artistically talented members, and he executed my (slash AI’s) vision to perfection. Here are some pictures of that “birdcage idea” brought to life!
Beyond the added decor, this birdcage art piece issued a new retreat exercise that was among my favorites this weekend. Prior to dispersing for 30 minutes of solitude in journaling and prayer, we encircled the art piece on our meeting space porch and pondered what we saw. What we thought. What we felt.
Then we left to process those things individually before coming together in small groups (tribes) to discuss them further. Here are some questions I pondered for myself — all with unknown answers, even as the originator of this piece:
Is the sparrow inside the birdcage trapped or free? Does the birdcage represent a refuge or a prison? How does this sparrow escape the cage if the key hangs underneath? Are the two sparrows outside the birdcage — one on top, another by the key — friends or foes? What happens in the next scene?
And how does the sparrow inside the birdcage — or the ones outside, for that matter — represent my faith, sexuality, and/or masculinity?
As with any piece of art, there is no “right” or “wrong” question to ask or answer to give. I thoroughly enjoyed all the interpretations from my “Golden Joy” tribe that weekend, as well as from fellow YOBBERS on our post-retreat Zoom debrief.
Not everyone can “see” or “feel” things as effortlessly as others, of course, and that’s okay. But I found it illuminating to see what came up for some people.
As for me . . .
I saw the sparrow inside the birdcage as both a victim and its own perpetrator. It unknowingly trapped itself, much like a bird that accidentally flies through the open window of a house — only now it doesn’t want the help to be set free. Prefers the isolation.
Because on some level, doesn’t feeling trapped feel good? Walls are comfortable. Predictable. Shielding.
The exhales I’ve taken from my own personal prisons are some of the sweetest breaths I’ve taken.
They’re short-lived breaths, of course. The breathing grows shallow.
But for a time, they are long and deep and sweet.
When I stumbled upon pornography for the first time, and then later virtual hookup culture, I felt like the bird that accidentally flies inside a house. “Oops” puts the feeling mildly; it was a torrent, an emotional and spiritual flurry. But then once I found myself inside walls that gave me something, I didn’t want to leave them.
Over the years, I’ve come and gone from my cages. Sometimes I’ve left the door open or closed on my way out; coming back, I’ve closed it behind me. Even locked it, thrown away the key for seasons of my life.
Over these last two decades, I’ve struggled with wanting to leave this particular cage behind: the cage of glowing screens in darkened rooms. It’s just easier to surround myself with false intimacy than the real sort.
Life is easier to control this way. Why ask the two sparrows outside my cage for help when I can just help myself?
Why entrust another sparrow for help when they might abandon me, dropping the key even further from my cage?
There’s the crux of the piece for me: the sparrow inside the cage needs help, but the sparrow inside needs to ask for help, and the sparrow inside needs to receive help from the outside.
We have to let other people into our cages eventually.
We have to, or we waste away.
It’s a grim image, but without any sustenance from the outside we are doomed in our isolation. Isolation works until it doesn’t. Helps us fall asleep for a few nights this week. But what about next week? Next month? Next year or decade? Can we really keep telling ourselves this is the better way to live? Can we really keep squawking at anyone who gets too close?
As soul-shaking as it can be, don’t we have to back away from our cage doors and let someone else in?
And don’t we have a responsibility to fly out to other cages and help others escape their prisons, too?
I continually wrestle with this dynamic in leadership of Your Other Brothers: where do I keep proper distance in the name of boundaries and self-care, and where do I let someone else enter my birdcage?
Can I do both well? Can I lead and participate well? Can I help others escape their isolation and find a home here with us, and can I also let others help me escape my own prisons, rediscovering more of the home to be found in this virtual space that more often bleeds into retreats and the face-to-face beyond glowing screens?
Maybe a birdcage is a prison. But maybe it’s also a necessary home in a perilous world. If we ask for help to open our locks, throw them away, and open our doors for fellow sparrows to join us in our cages as we join them in theirs, then isn’t a birdcage a beautiful image?
I love our community. They’ve ministered to me for nine years and six retreats now: financially, spiritually, and relationally. Both online and off.
I want to feel more at home with them through the years and decades to come. I want to call to them for help. Let them open my door. Let them in.
Did you attend this year’s YOBBERS retreat? What were your takeaways from the birdcage art piece? What keeps you isolating rather than letting others inside?
About the Author
Tom,
Thank you for your perspective on this. I had similar thoughts upon my initial reflection of the art piece. I saw it as my tendency to feel trapped in my sin, but at the same time, I make myself comfortable and nest in it as well. There’s others around who can help and the key is right there, yet I just sit and try to do it alone.
Thanks for sharing your thoughts, Brandon. The trapped vs comfortable dynamic is such a fascinating one for me to continue to explore, long after the retreat has passed.