On the Edge of Inside

At a gathering recently, someone offered a description of Future of Faith that stopped me cold...in the best way. They said, “Future of Faith lives on the edge of the inside.” Not outside throwing rocks. Not inside protecting turf, but on the edge. Building bridges, taking risks and staying rooted.

I cannot think of a higher compliment.

That phrase comes from Richard Rohr, who writes about what he calls the prophetic position: standing at the edge of the inside. Rohr argues that practical truth rarely emerges from the center of institutions. It shows up at the margins, the thresholds, the doorways, the places where people move between worlds. 

Ancient cultures understood this instinctively. They placed guardians at bridges and gates because crossing matters. Transitions carry risk. Movement requires wisdom.

That framing names exactly what we are trying to do at Future of Faith.

We work with denominations, seminaries, dioceses, and long-established institutions because we care deeply about them. We respect their histories. We listen to their leaders. We take their questions seriously. At the same time, we spend just as much time with people who no longer trust those institutions, who live far from their centers of power, or who encounter faith in unexpected places like digital spaces, living rooms, pop-up communities, or moments of quiet searching that never make it onto an organizational chart. That edge position changes how we see everything.

The center cannot see it clearly. The outside cannot access it fully. The edge holds both perspectives at once.

From the center, innovation often looks like threat. From the outside, institutions often look irrelevant or corrupt. From the edge of the inside, both views collapse. You can hear the core message of a tradition without confusing it with bureaucracy, loyalty tests, or job security. You can critique systems using the values the system itself claims to hold. Rohr makes this point sharply: prophets do not reject the tradition; they clarify it. They complete the law rather than abolish it.

That posture has shaped our work from the beginning.

It explains why we can sit with bishops asking hard questions about digital evangelization while also listening carefully to creators who have never felt welcomed by church leadership. It explains why our research on listening resonates with institutional leaders and disaffiliated young adults at the same time. It explains why storytelling, accompaniment, and trust-building sit at the center of our work rather than programs or tactics. Living at the edge requires fluency in multiple worlds and deep respect for each.

Rohr warns that this position never feels entirely safe. You belong enough to understand the system, but not enough to defend it uncritically. You care enough to stay, but not enough to protect dysfunction. That tension shows up constantly in our work. It also keeps us honest. It forces us to listen before we speak and to move carefully across boundaries that matter to people’s lives and faith.

The person who named this at the gathering meant it as encouragement. I received it as vocation.

Future of Faith exists to steward doorways. To help institutions listen beyond their walls and to help people on the margins rediscover language, practices, and communities that feel trustworthy again. That work only happens at the edge of the inside.

If that makes us a little hard to categorize, we are comfortable with that. Bridges rarely fit neatly into maps of either shore. They exist to help people cross.