"Bless the God of all, who everywhere works great wonders, who fosters our growth from birth, and deals with us according to his mercy" (Sirach 50:22).
Too often we separate our spiritual life from the rest of our life. It is so easy to put it aside for more seemingly urgent or significant aspects of our days. These external aspects seem more urgent, yet are often empty without benefit of inner refreshment and nourishment. We can so easily give in to discouragement or forget our vision and our dreams when we do not take time to integrate our outer world with our inner world. We remain fragmented instead of drawing together all the pieces into a wholeness that gives our life meaning.
This integration is accomplished by taking time to look at the very ordinary parts of our day, to pray them by holding them up to the light of the scripture, to celebrate them in the deptsh of our being by pausing to reflect and reverence them, knowing that the God of graciousness is always there, immanently present, active, drawing us into a deeper love relationship.
There are some days at work (like today) that leave me searching for stuff to do. The nature of the company I work for is that some weeks may demand 60 hours of work, while other weeks I have nothing to do but kick around on a computer and see what I can find. On these days, I usually make a regular stop at YouTube to see if I can't find anything interesting to watch. Today, I stumbled across a video from the 1950s in which doctors are testing the reaction of a normal housewife who has been given LCD (acid). The main point of the video, of course, is to laugh at the silly things the woman says after taking the LCD. However, there is an element to this video which relates quite well to the message above:
The woman, after the effects of the LCD had set in, was in awe of everything around her -- the air, the "technicolor" of the world, her hands... everything. The world had taken on a new beauty for her. Of course, I am not condoning the use of hallucinogens, but it occurred to me that there are certain realizations that can be made (ideally without the stimulation of drugs) about the world around us and its beauty that we generally take for granted.
At one point, the woman told the man who was busy asking her questions about her reaction: "I feel sorry for you." And truly, as I watched her recognize the beauty of the air in front of her face, I was in fact longing to see the beauty of the ordinary.
Monday, June 4, 2012
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
CS Lewis - The Problem of Pain
I'm taking a break from blogging from the usual pamphlet that I was using throughout lent and beyond, mainly because I am absolutely enthralled with CS Lewis and his ideas presented in "The Problem of Pain". In this book, Lewis tackles the issue of the existence of pain in our world, building a logical argument from scratch, and based on certain Christian fundamentals (such as Divine Omnipotence and Divine Goodness, also The Fall). I'd like to share a passage that struck me with a great deal of clarity. I particularly appreciate the metaphor near the end. :)
My own experience is something like this. I am progressing along the path of life in my ordinary contentedly fallen and godless condition, absorbed in a merry meeting with my friends for the morrow or a bit of work that tickles my vanity today, a holiday or a new book, when suddenly a stab of abdominal pain that threatens serious disease, or a headline in the newspapers that threatens us all with destruction, sends this whole pack of cards tumbling down. At first I am overwhelmed, and all my little happinesses look like broken toys. Then, slowly and reluctantly, bit by bit, I try to bring myself into the frame of mind that I should be in at all times. I remind myself that all these toys were never intended to possess my heart, that my true good is in another world and my only real treasure is Christ. And perhaps, by God's grace, I succeed, and for a day or two become a creature consciously dependent on God and drawing its strength from the right sources. But the moment the threat is withdrawn, my whole nature leaps back to the toys: I am even anxious, God forgive me, to banish from my mind the only thing that supported me under the threat because it is now associated with the misery of those few days. Thus the terrible necessity of tribulation is only too clear. God has had me for but forty-eight hours and then only by dint of taking everything else away from me. Let Him but sheathe that sword for a moment and I behave like a puppy when the hated bath is over--I shake myself as dry as I can and race off to reacquire my comfortable dirtiness, if not in the nearest manure heap, at least in the nearest flower bed. And that is why tribulations cannot cease until God either sees us remade or sees that our remaking is now hopeless.
My own experience is something like this. I am progressing along the path of life in my ordinary contentedly fallen and godless condition, absorbed in a merry meeting with my friends for the morrow or a bit of work that tickles my vanity today, a holiday or a new book, when suddenly a stab of abdominal pain that threatens serious disease, or a headline in the newspapers that threatens us all with destruction, sends this whole pack of cards tumbling down. At first I am overwhelmed, and all my little happinesses look like broken toys. Then, slowly and reluctantly, bit by bit, I try to bring myself into the frame of mind that I should be in at all times. I remind myself that all these toys were never intended to possess my heart, that my true good is in another world and my only real treasure is Christ. And perhaps, by God's grace, I succeed, and for a day or two become a creature consciously dependent on God and drawing its strength from the right sources. But the moment the threat is withdrawn, my whole nature leaps back to the toys: I am even anxious, God forgive me, to banish from my mind the only thing that supported me under the threat because it is now associated with the misery of those few days. Thus the terrible necessity of tribulation is only too clear. God has had me for but forty-eight hours and then only by dint of taking everything else away from me. Let Him but sheathe that sword for a moment and I behave like a puppy when the hated bath is over--I shake myself as dry as I can and race off to reacquire my comfortable dirtiness, if not in the nearest manure heap, at least in the nearest flower bed. And that is why tribulations cannot cease until God either sees us remade or sees that our remaking is now hopeless.
Sunday, May 13, 2012
Tuesday, Week 5 - Learning through Suffering
"Although he was Son, he learned obedience through what he suffered; and having been made perfect, he became the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him" (Hebrews 5:8-9).
Suffering in itself has no value. It is what we do with our suffering that makes the difference. The ministry of Jesus attests to this fact: He did all he could to alleviate the hurts of others. Yet, he also spoke of suffering as a source of growth, as a means of purification and inner conversion.
Suffering can be beneficial when it leads to some kind of "resurrection" in us, when a strength or a sleeping energy in us is aroused, when talents heretofore unknown are recognized, when a clarity about life's purpose and direction becomes keener for us, when a stronger sense of compassion for others deepens in us. There is so much within us that needs to come to life. Moments of suffering, times of goodbye, can cause us to peer inside our own tombs of unfinishedness or incompleteness and we can discover vast storehouses of resiliency, vitality, fidelity, love and endurance.
I don't feel like I'm suffering. Yet I feel uninspired. I'm happy where I am, but I'm tired. I'm blessed, so blessed, to be where I am and I know it. But I think there's something more out there for me. And alas, this is the point where I'm slapped in the face with the necessity of patience.
But the gears keep turning. And in the meantime, I have much to improve about myself. Thank God for the opportunity to do so.
Suffering in itself has no value. It is what we do with our suffering that makes the difference. The ministry of Jesus attests to this fact: He did all he could to alleviate the hurts of others. Yet, he also spoke of suffering as a source of growth, as a means of purification and inner conversion.
Suffering can be beneficial when it leads to some kind of "resurrection" in us, when a strength or a sleeping energy in us is aroused, when talents heretofore unknown are recognized, when a clarity about life's purpose and direction becomes keener for us, when a stronger sense of compassion for others deepens in us. There is so much within us that needs to come to life. Moments of suffering, times of goodbye, can cause us to peer inside our own tombs of unfinishedness or incompleteness and we can discover vast storehouses of resiliency, vitality, fidelity, love and endurance.
I don't feel like I'm suffering. Yet I feel uninspired. I'm happy where I am, but I'm tired. I'm blessed, so blessed, to be where I am and I know it. But I think there's something more out there for me. And alas, this is the point where I'm slapped in the face with the necessity of patience.
But the gears keep turning. And in the meantime, I have much to improve about myself. Thank God for the opportunity to do so.
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Monday, Week 5 - Opening My Eyes of Faith
"When you search for me, you will find me; if you seek me with all your heart, I will let you find me, says the Lord" (Jeremiah 29:13-14).
In busyness I often close down. In deliberate or unexpected awareness, I open up. It is in this openness that I "see" in a deeper or newer way, viewing people, creatures, and nature in a clearer light. As I open and become more aware, something happens inside of me to cause the barriers of my inattentiveness, judgments, or busyness to move aside and for bonding to occur. It is then that I recognize my oneness with the dancing that is inherent in the all of creation.
There are big moments of awareness but also many day to day ones that allow me to enter into this attentiveness. I do not need to be away form home or work in order to know this oneness. I do not need to be at the seashore or on a mountaintop to enjoy the cosmic dance. I only need to be awake and alert, to let go of my busyness and my self-absorption, in order to discover mystery and wonder in things like the food before me and the people at my side. There are stories of life dancing vividly on every level of the world in which I live. Each creature, person, cloud, city corner, rock, and plant has numerous layers of inner activity, threaded with meaning and circles of mystery, offering hope and encouragement to my life.
I look back over the last few months, to the time that I started this blogging project. I was okay with allowing myself to miss a day here, a day there, then a few days here and there, and even okay with accepting that I wasn't going to be finished by the time the Lenten season was through. I'm realizing, though, that there is an apparent correlation between the amount of time that I managed to set aside to pray, and the closeness I felt with God throughout the day. I conclude that the act of finding time for silent prayer and reflection is responsible for a feeling experienced much longer than just the time that is set aside. I regret to see that over the past few weeks, I've allowed myself to blog only once a week, on average. This regret is not just a regret based on principle, but a regret because of the fact that, over the same period of time, I very clearly spent less time throughout the week, during the days, during the most mundane of times, feeling close to God.
It is time, then, for me to kick myself in the butt once more. I cannot settle for the easy path, for a "reflection once in a while". I am called to be constantly seeking to find my way in God, and so that is what I will set out to do.
In busyness I often close down. In deliberate or unexpected awareness, I open up. It is in this openness that I "see" in a deeper or newer way, viewing people, creatures, and nature in a clearer light. As I open and become more aware, something happens inside of me to cause the barriers of my inattentiveness, judgments, or busyness to move aside and for bonding to occur. It is then that I recognize my oneness with the dancing that is inherent in the all of creation.
There are big moments of awareness but also many day to day ones that allow me to enter into this attentiveness. I do not need to be away form home or work in order to know this oneness. I do not need to be at the seashore or on a mountaintop to enjoy the cosmic dance. I only need to be awake and alert, to let go of my busyness and my self-absorption, in order to discover mystery and wonder in things like the food before me and the people at my side. There are stories of life dancing vividly on every level of the world in which I live. Each creature, person, cloud, city corner, rock, and plant has numerous layers of inner activity, threaded with meaning and circles of mystery, offering hope and encouragement to my life.
I look back over the last few months, to the time that I started this blogging project. I was okay with allowing myself to miss a day here, a day there, then a few days here and there, and even okay with accepting that I wasn't going to be finished by the time the Lenten season was through. I'm realizing, though, that there is an apparent correlation between the amount of time that I managed to set aside to pray, and the closeness I felt with God throughout the day. I conclude that the act of finding time for silent prayer and reflection is responsible for a feeling experienced much longer than just the time that is set aside. I regret to see that over the past few weeks, I've allowed myself to blog only once a week, on average. This regret is not just a regret based on principle, but a regret because of the fact that, over the same period of time, I very clearly spent less time throughout the week, during the days, during the most mundane of times, feeling close to God.
It is time, then, for me to kick myself in the butt once more. I cannot settle for the easy path, for a "reflection once in a while". I am called to be constantly seeking to find my way in God, and so that is what I will set out to do.
Fifth Sunday of Lent - Offering Our Whole Life to God
I will put my spirit within you, and you shall live" (Ezekiel 37:14)
God is dwelling with us everywhere. For our part we need to have an awareness or a consciousness of this loving presence. Our meditation and prayer time can be a source of our waking up, becoming more aware of God always filling our days and nights. The most ordinary of our days contains the power and the splendor of spiritual awareness. It is up to us to pay attention, to be present to the here and now, in order to enter more deeply into life.
As we open ourselves to spiritual growth, there is simply no part of our life that can be left out. Nothing is too dirty or smudged. Nothing is too ecstatic or passionate. Nothing is too mundane or ordinary. All of life is the food of our spiritual growth. We can grow closer and deeper in our relationship with God through every situation, depending on our attitude, our openness, and our awareness. Be aware of God teaching you through your life today.
The word that sticks out when I read through this reflection and reflect on it myself, is "mundane". It's a little bit frustrating to run into someone I haven't seen for some time and inevitably be faced with the questions: "How are you? What are you up to?" This is frustrating because I can't seem to find an answer that's any better than "Just workin'. Everything's great. I can't complain."
Don't get me wrong - I am very aware of how blessed I am to be in my position, both in my career and in my world. I still know that I am where I am supposed to be, right now. But I have to admit... there are times when my life feels a little bit mundane.
Today I am challenged not only to face this fact, but to take strides to make the most of it. Why should I let the emotionally steady and monotonous life path that I'm on get in the way of vigorously developing my relationship with God and feeling inspired to live out my life to its fullest?
It is easy to let the magnificence of simple days come and go without much of a thought. It's up to me to resist this trend.
God is dwelling with us everywhere. For our part we need to have an awareness or a consciousness of this loving presence. Our meditation and prayer time can be a source of our waking up, becoming more aware of God always filling our days and nights. The most ordinary of our days contains the power and the splendor of spiritual awareness. It is up to us to pay attention, to be present to the here and now, in order to enter more deeply into life.
As we open ourselves to spiritual growth, there is simply no part of our life that can be left out. Nothing is too dirty or smudged. Nothing is too ecstatic or passionate. Nothing is too mundane or ordinary. All of life is the food of our spiritual growth. We can grow closer and deeper in our relationship with God through every situation, depending on our attitude, our openness, and our awareness. Be aware of God teaching you through your life today.
The word that sticks out when I read through this reflection and reflect on it myself, is "mundane". It's a little bit frustrating to run into someone I haven't seen for some time and inevitably be faced with the questions: "How are you? What are you up to?" This is frustrating because I can't seem to find an answer that's any better than "Just workin'. Everything's great. I can't complain."
Don't get me wrong - I am very aware of how blessed I am to be in my position, both in my career and in my world. I still know that I am where I am supposed to be, right now. But I have to admit... there are times when my life feels a little bit mundane.
Today I am challenged not only to face this fact, but to take strides to make the most of it. Why should I let the emotionally steady and monotonous life path that I'm on get in the way of vigorously developing my relationship with God and feeling inspired to live out my life to its fullest?
It is easy to let the magnificence of simple days come and go without much of a thought. It's up to me to resist this trend.
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Saturday, Week 4 - Refusing to Follow the Easy Way
"Enter through the narrow gate; for the gate is wide and the road is easy that leads to destruction, and there are many who take it. The gate is narrow and the road is hard that leads to life, and there are few who find it" (Matthew 7:13-14).
Divine Challenger, when did I stop risking? When did I lose my edge for adventure and surprise? When did I start pretending that what I now know is all there is to know? When did I give in to fear and bow to security? When did I let uncertainty press against my free spirit? When did I start moving toward the easy, sure thing? When did I give away my ability to be disturbed? When did I start refusing to pay the price for fuller depth and joy? When did I let panic of the unknown future wrap its barbed wire fingers around my desire to grow?
Inner Source of Courage, nudge me toward my growth. Urge me away from the strongholds. Convince me of my potential to leap beyond the barriers.
This would be a good example of those moments throughout this series of reflections which encourage immediate engagement into the process of change. I have to accept that at the moment, I am best served to pray and consider that where I am today is where I am supposed to be. I may not be, however, where I will be in 2 years. But I must trust that if I continue to question, continue to communicate with God and with others, I will find my way.
It is both a bit intimidating and exciting to consider the nature of the road less traveled. To face this risk, to leave the comforts of secure routines and familiar places and faces, is indeed an act of faith and not an easy one at that. But this is what makes the act so intriguing and so rewarding. To take the road less traveled, to seek the most growth-inspiring and fulfilling choices in life, is the best way to have lived a life truly worth living.
Divine Challenger, when did I stop risking? When did I lose my edge for adventure and surprise? When did I start pretending that what I now know is all there is to know? When did I give in to fear and bow to security? When did I let uncertainty press against my free spirit? When did I start moving toward the easy, sure thing? When did I give away my ability to be disturbed? When did I start refusing to pay the price for fuller depth and joy? When did I let panic of the unknown future wrap its barbed wire fingers around my desire to grow?
Inner Source of Courage, nudge me toward my growth. Urge me away from the strongholds. Convince me of my potential to leap beyond the barriers.
This would be a good example of those moments throughout this series of reflections which encourage immediate engagement into the process of change. I have to accept that at the moment, I am best served to pray and consider that where I am today is where I am supposed to be. I may not be, however, where I will be in 2 years. But I must trust that if I continue to question, continue to communicate with God and with others, I will find my way.
It is both a bit intimidating and exciting to consider the nature of the road less traveled. To face this risk, to leave the comforts of secure routines and familiar places and faces, is indeed an act of faith and not an easy one at that. But this is what makes the act so intriguing and so rewarding. To take the road less traveled, to seek the most growth-inspiring and fulfilling choices in life, is the best way to have lived a life truly worth living.
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Friday, Week 4 - We Are All God's Children
"The compassion of human beings is for their neighbors, but the compassion of the Lord if for every living thing" (Sirach 18:13).
I have hope because there are people in wealthy nations whose awareness of the rest of the world ismaking a difference. They want to help. They are working to change the great gap between the haves and have-nots. I see the choices these generous and compassionate people are making. Their selflessness and kind-heartedness encourages me to make better decisions about how I live and how I give. I do not believe that it is a matter of condemning a comfortable life but, rather, of wanting this for all people.
It is good that we are challenged to use our resources in such a way that others can also have a more humane life. It is essential that we are reminded often that each human being is our sister or our brother. It is the message that Jesus taught so long ago. It is an ageless teaching and we are always in need of re-learning and living the message. Lent is a good time to re-enter the heart of this teaching.
I sometimes have a hard time envisioning how it is that I hope to make a significant impact in my community. Right now, it seems as though my reach is very short. I don't seem to know the right people. My involvement this far only seems to affect a handful of people, and those effects are subtle.
I think I can relate this idea to learning a new skill. A couple of weeks ago, I made an impulsive decision to purchase an affordable acoustic guitar ($50, free shipping!) and try to learn it! I can proudly say now I know about 10 chords, and can sight-read simple sheet music. The point is this: When I first picked up the guitar, it seemed a long way off before I could play even a few chords and transition between them seemlessly. Now, just a few days of practice later, I can play short pieces (and even sing along with them if I so desire!). We are capable of dramatic growth in fairly short periods of time, no matter how difficult the task may seem.
I believe this idea applies to my role in the community. If I'm active in taking the right steps to meet the right people and get involved in the right places, I can sculpt for myself a situation in which I can make an impact in a greater way. Again, though, patience must be in play. Restless patience is the key.
I have hope because there are people in wealthy nations whose awareness of the rest of the world ismaking a difference. They want to help. They are working to change the great gap between the haves and have-nots. I see the choices these generous and compassionate people are making. Their selflessness and kind-heartedness encourages me to make better decisions about how I live and how I give. I do not believe that it is a matter of condemning a comfortable life but, rather, of wanting this for all people.
It is good that we are challenged to use our resources in such a way that others can also have a more humane life. It is essential that we are reminded often that each human being is our sister or our brother. It is the message that Jesus taught so long ago. It is an ageless teaching and we are always in need of re-learning and living the message. Lent is a good time to re-enter the heart of this teaching.
I sometimes have a hard time envisioning how it is that I hope to make a significant impact in my community. Right now, it seems as though my reach is very short. I don't seem to know the right people. My involvement this far only seems to affect a handful of people, and those effects are subtle.
I think I can relate this idea to learning a new skill. A couple of weeks ago, I made an impulsive decision to purchase an affordable acoustic guitar ($50, free shipping!) and try to learn it! I can proudly say now I know about 10 chords, and can sight-read simple sheet music. The point is this: When I first picked up the guitar, it seemed a long way off before I could play even a few chords and transition between them seemlessly. Now, just a few days of practice later, I can play short pieces (and even sing along with them if I so desire!). We are capable of dramatic growth in fairly short periods of time, no matter how difficult the task may seem.
I believe this idea applies to my role in the community. If I'm active in taking the right steps to meet the right people and get involved in the right places, I can sculpt for myself a situation in which I can make an impact in a greater way. Again, though, patience must be in play. Restless patience is the key.
Thursday, Week 4 - Overcoming My Fears
"For freedom Christ has set us free. Stand firm, therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery" (Galatians 5:10).
Part of me yearns for inner freedom yet hides from it at the same time, the place in me that resists coming home to my truest self. It is in this unfree place that I hide from what will bring me to greater wholeness.
How can I resist the invitation to personal wholeness, to be my truest self, when I am always yearning for this in my life? Yet, I do resist it. There are times when I allow my fears, anxieties, or confusions to keep me from making a change in my life that would be for my growth.
Sometimes it has been something rather simple, like trying on a new style of behavior. For example, I recognize this happening in me when my life and work call me to be in a "high extrovert" situation, meeting and greeting new people, entering into long hours of socializing and relating to strangers. The part of me that knows how delicious it feels to be an introvert wants to run and hide, to not reach out, to close my inner door and go home to solitude and quiet.
Last weekend, I had the pleasure to travel with my roommate and many of our friends (14 in all!) to Wichita, Kansas, where my roommate grew up, and his Dad has a farm with a whole slew of activities to keep us more than entertained (horseback riding, ATVs, and a zipline into water, to name a few). I had one of the easiest, more relaxing, enjoyable days of my life just exploring the various adventures of the property, but I also managed to find another, totally separate takeaway from the weekend.
An "old friend" (it feels strange to even be able to say that at the age of 23) from Tucson just happened to be in Wichita at the time. So Saturday night, I sent him a few text messages, and before I knew it, I was face to face with him, catching up on life and hitting all sorts of topics. He's a few years older than I am (we are acquainted through the Church we were both active at in Tucson), so fortunately he is in a position to give me some experienced insight into the discernment process. There are two main messages that stick out to me from my relatively extensive chat with him:
1) Your company does not own you. He illustrated his point with his own career snapshot. He defines himself by his qualifications, experiences, and industry expertise, not by the company he works for. That is not to say he isn't proud of the company he works for - he certainly is. But he also recognizes his independence. This gives him the freedom and flexibility to be himself to the fullest degree.
2) The discernment process never ends. He affirmed my restlessness by convincing me that his mind is not in such a different place. He was very honest in his consideration of his option (and potential!) to veer from the comfortable career path, despite knowing he's good at what he does and even feels a decent amount of pride and satisfaction from his work.
I so appreciated the conversation with my friend, and have to believe that the Holy Spirit had some involvement in bringing us together last weekend in Wichita. I can only hope it served him in some way, as it served me.
Part of me yearns for inner freedom yet hides from it at the same time, the place in me that resists coming home to my truest self. It is in this unfree place that I hide from what will bring me to greater wholeness.
How can I resist the invitation to personal wholeness, to be my truest self, when I am always yearning for this in my life? Yet, I do resist it. There are times when I allow my fears, anxieties, or confusions to keep me from making a change in my life that would be for my growth.
Sometimes it has been something rather simple, like trying on a new style of behavior. For example, I recognize this happening in me when my life and work call me to be in a "high extrovert" situation, meeting and greeting new people, entering into long hours of socializing and relating to strangers. The part of me that knows how delicious it feels to be an introvert wants to run and hide, to not reach out, to close my inner door and go home to solitude and quiet.
Last weekend, I had the pleasure to travel with my roommate and many of our friends (14 in all!) to Wichita, Kansas, where my roommate grew up, and his Dad has a farm with a whole slew of activities to keep us more than entertained (horseback riding, ATVs, and a zipline into water, to name a few). I had one of the easiest, more relaxing, enjoyable days of my life just exploring the various adventures of the property, but I also managed to find another, totally separate takeaway from the weekend.
An "old friend" (it feels strange to even be able to say that at the age of 23) from Tucson just happened to be in Wichita at the time. So Saturday night, I sent him a few text messages, and before I knew it, I was face to face with him, catching up on life and hitting all sorts of topics. He's a few years older than I am (we are acquainted through the Church we were both active at in Tucson), so fortunately he is in a position to give me some experienced insight into the discernment process. There are two main messages that stick out to me from my relatively extensive chat with him:
1) Your company does not own you. He illustrated his point with his own career snapshot. He defines himself by his qualifications, experiences, and industry expertise, not by the company he works for. That is not to say he isn't proud of the company he works for - he certainly is. But he also recognizes his independence. This gives him the freedom and flexibility to be himself to the fullest degree.
2) The discernment process never ends. He affirmed my restlessness by convincing me that his mind is not in such a different place. He was very honest in his consideration of his option (and potential!) to veer from the comfortable career path, despite knowing he's good at what he does and even feels a decent amount of pride and satisfaction from his work.
I so appreciated the conversation with my friend, and have to believe that the Holy Spirit had some involvement in bringing us together last weekend in Wichita. I can only hope it served him in some way, as it served me.
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Wednesday, Week 4 - With God in All Times
"How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!" (Matthew 23:37)
Our awareness of the loving presence of God does not mean that we will never have moments of feelings angry at God or abandoned by God or be just plain unfeeling toward God during times of loss. These are natural, human responses of grief and some feel them more strongly than others. But we will not go on forever blaming God for causing the situation or for not intervening and stopping the event. If our image of God is a positive one, we will eventually return to a time when we recognize the comfort and love that are waiting there for us.
Our God is a God who dwells within, a loving presence near to us who yearns for our happiness, one who walks with us in our struggles. If our God is a God who holds us close as a mother hen gathers her chicks close to her, then we will come through our goodbyes with a deeper sense of being tenderly cared for by our God and we will draw comfort and strength from this presence.
Now it is officially after Lent, and of course, I did not make it through all of the reflections (really, not even close). But I have found this exercise to be peaceful and always intended for this Lenten promise to last beyond Easter Sunday, whether I had finished the reflections provided by Sr. Joyce, or not.
Tonight, I am reminded once again of the constant presence of God not just in my life, but within me. As I began to read through Sr. Joyce's reflection, thoughts crept into my mind... I know, already. How many times do you have to tell me, "God is with you"?
The answer to that question is this: Over, and over, and over again. How quickly I forget, how quickly I fail to acknowledge God's presence in my life on a daily ... hourly basis! Why not hourly? Shouldn't everything I do be for the greater glory of God? Couldn't it?
Looking back over the patterns of my life, I know this much about myself: I do not grow angry with God during the dark times of my life. In fact, my relationship with Him consistently thrives in those times. I have been blessed with the natural instinct to turn to Him, not against Him, when I am in the most need. Where I'd like to progress is in those times when things are going my way. All too often I take my life for granted when it's shaped up to be just what I had hoped. Sometimes I even make the grave mistake of crediting myself for how well my life is going, rather than Him...
Our awareness of the loving presence of God does not mean that we will never have moments of feelings angry at God or abandoned by God or be just plain unfeeling toward God during times of loss. These are natural, human responses of grief and some feel them more strongly than others. But we will not go on forever blaming God for causing the situation or for not intervening and stopping the event. If our image of God is a positive one, we will eventually return to a time when we recognize the comfort and love that are waiting there for us.
Our God is a God who dwells within, a loving presence near to us who yearns for our happiness, one who walks with us in our struggles. If our God is a God who holds us close as a mother hen gathers her chicks close to her, then we will come through our goodbyes with a deeper sense of being tenderly cared for by our God and we will draw comfort and strength from this presence.
Now it is officially after Lent, and of course, I did not make it through all of the reflections (really, not even close). But I have found this exercise to be peaceful and always intended for this Lenten promise to last beyond Easter Sunday, whether I had finished the reflections provided by Sr. Joyce, or not.
Tonight, I am reminded once again of the constant presence of God not just in my life, but within me. As I began to read through Sr. Joyce's reflection, thoughts crept into my mind... I know, already. How many times do you have to tell me, "God is with you"?
The answer to that question is this: Over, and over, and over again. How quickly I forget, how quickly I fail to acknowledge God's presence in my life on a daily ... hourly basis! Why not hourly? Shouldn't everything I do be for the greater glory of God? Couldn't it?
Looking back over the patterns of my life, I know this much about myself: I do not grow angry with God during the dark times of my life. In fact, my relationship with Him consistently thrives in those times. I have been blessed with the natural instinct to turn to Him, not against Him, when I am in the most need. Where I'd like to progress is in those times when things are going my way. All too often I take my life for granted when it's shaped up to be just what I had hoped. Sometimes I even make the grave mistake of crediting myself for how well my life is going, rather than Him...
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Tuesday, Week 4 - Befriending the Darkness
"Are your wonders known in the darkness, or your saving help in the land of forgetfulness?" (Psalm 88:12).
There is no way that we can avoid inner darkness completely. If we did so, we would be tossing out a vital part of our transformation. Rather than getting rid of darkness, we need to search for ways that we can befriend it.
The difficult thing about darkness as an essential part of our life is that we can know this fact intellectually but run from it emotionally. All we care about is getting rid of the dreadful experience, moving on, feeling good again. When darkness descends upon the human heart, we spend most of our energy doing battle with it rather than befriending it and seeing what gift it might be offering us.
Any kind of darkness can call us, push us, nudge us, and urge us onto the path of inner growth. Darkness can wake us up and stir questions in us that we'd rather not face: How do the patterns of my behavior influence my life? Whom or what have I taken for granted? Have I been attentive to the deepest longings of my soul?
Of all of the messages expressed by Sr. Joyce throughout these reflections, this is definitely one of the freshest I have come across. This idea of "befriending the darkness" is truly new for me. Of course, we have talked about how times of darkness are often the times of greatest growth, but this reflection, I believe, takes it to a whole new level.
Befriending the darkness. I recognize that in times of stress and confusion (which tend to be my versions of darkness), Sr. Joyce is exactly right: I spend all my energy trying to figure out what it is I need to do to feel good again, even something as trivial as a mental trick.
I've also often heard the welcomed advice: "Offer it up." This comes a little closer to what we're considering here as it pertains to how tightly we're called to embrace our own struggles.
Moving forward, I think I have an opportunity to move closer towards embracing my own inner darkness, appreciating it for the chance to grow, rather than despising it and simply doing what I can to avoid it.
There is no way that we can avoid inner darkness completely. If we did so, we would be tossing out a vital part of our transformation. Rather than getting rid of darkness, we need to search for ways that we can befriend it.
The difficult thing about darkness as an essential part of our life is that we can know this fact intellectually but run from it emotionally. All we care about is getting rid of the dreadful experience, moving on, feeling good again. When darkness descends upon the human heart, we spend most of our energy doing battle with it rather than befriending it and seeing what gift it might be offering us.
Any kind of darkness can call us, push us, nudge us, and urge us onto the path of inner growth. Darkness can wake us up and stir questions in us that we'd rather not face: How do the patterns of my behavior influence my life? Whom or what have I taken for granted? Have I been attentive to the deepest longings of my soul?
Of all of the messages expressed by Sr. Joyce throughout these reflections, this is definitely one of the freshest I have come across. This idea of "befriending the darkness" is truly new for me. Of course, we have talked about how times of darkness are often the times of greatest growth, but this reflection, I believe, takes it to a whole new level.
Befriending the darkness. I recognize that in times of stress and confusion (which tend to be my versions of darkness), Sr. Joyce is exactly right: I spend all my energy trying to figure out what it is I need to do to feel good again, even something as trivial as a mental trick.
I've also often heard the welcomed advice: "Offer it up." This comes a little closer to what we're considering here as it pertains to how tightly we're called to embrace our own struggles.
Moving forward, I think I have an opportunity to move closer towards embracing my own inner darkness, appreciating it for the chance to grow, rather than despising it and simply doing what I can to avoid it.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Monday, Week 4 - Growing in the Darkness
"Do not rejoice over me, O my enemy; when I fall, I shall rise; when I sit in darkness, the Lord will be a light to me" (Micah 7:8).
At times I have found it difficult to believe that darkness could be a source of growth. Darkness to a child, as well as to many adults, can be a scary, fearsome place where wild creatures wait to pounce and prey. But, in actuality, some kinds of darkness are truly our friends. Darkness is very essential for some aspects of growth and protection.
But there is also an unfriendly darkness, like human destructiveness or hate, a blackness that can maim and wound us mentally, emotionally, spiritually. It is the kind that will lead us to despair, where we end up hurting ourselves or others. It destroys our hope and our positive view of life. We do not grow in this kind of darkness. We turn in on self. We stop believing in our goodness and beauty and that of others.
How do I know what kind of darkness to stay in? It is not easy to know. Sometimes I just do not know. I always need someone to walk faithfully with me during these times of darkness.
I've been thinking a lot about the Trayvon Martin case that has captured the attention of many across the country -- in short, the 17-year-old young man who was shot dead by a neighborhood watchman after a nondescript altercation of some sort.
There are so many factors in this case that are being discussed in the media and elsewhere -- self-defense laws, what actually happened that night, racism, etc. I, like most, cannot claim to know anything about what happened leading up to the gunfire, but I do have an opinion on the story as a whole...
I believe the story's existence and constant daily fueling is damaging for our country. Every day the media outlets release new rumors, details, celebrity quotes, etc. about this case, more and more hatred, in one direction or another, is incited. I am not against people rallying together for a cause, but this story in particular is not so much rallying people together for Trayvon, but rather against the man who (as far as we know) fired the gun.
This is a darkness that I believe is not a positive for anyone involved, including anyone across the nation whose angry side is provoked simply by reading news article after news article about the case. Whether race had anything to do with the incident or not, I would bet that racism has gained momentum across the country as a result of the widespread reporting of this story, and that genuinely upsets me. Trayvon's family is clearly in pain, and I don't doubt they need all the support and love they can get. But it is unhealthy for them, and for us, to focus on "justice". Retaliation, vengeance, hatred -- these are truly dark emotions.
We ought to focus on grieving, praying, healing, and loving.
At times I have found it difficult to believe that darkness could be a source of growth. Darkness to a child, as well as to many adults, can be a scary, fearsome place where wild creatures wait to pounce and prey. But, in actuality, some kinds of darkness are truly our friends. Darkness is very essential for some aspects of growth and protection.
But there is also an unfriendly darkness, like human destructiveness or hate, a blackness that can maim and wound us mentally, emotionally, spiritually. It is the kind that will lead us to despair, where we end up hurting ourselves or others. It destroys our hope and our positive view of life. We do not grow in this kind of darkness. We turn in on self. We stop believing in our goodness and beauty and that of others.
How do I know what kind of darkness to stay in? It is not easy to know. Sometimes I just do not know. I always need someone to walk faithfully with me during these times of darkness.
I've been thinking a lot about the Trayvon Martin case that has captured the attention of many across the country -- in short, the 17-year-old young man who was shot dead by a neighborhood watchman after a nondescript altercation of some sort.
There are so many factors in this case that are being discussed in the media and elsewhere -- self-defense laws, what actually happened that night, racism, etc. I, like most, cannot claim to know anything about what happened leading up to the gunfire, but I do have an opinion on the story as a whole...
I believe the story's existence and constant daily fueling is damaging for our country. Every day the media outlets release new rumors, details, celebrity quotes, etc. about this case, more and more hatred, in one direction or another, is incited. I am not against people rallying together for a cause, but this story in particular is not so much rallying people together for Trayvon, but rather against the man who (as far as we know) fired the gun.
This is a darkness that I believe is not a positive for anyone involved, including anyone across the nation whose angry side is provoked simply by reading news article after news article about the case. Whether race had anything to do with the incident or not, I would bet that racism has gained momentum across the country as a result of the widespread reporting of this story, and that genuinely upsets me. Trayvon's family is clearly in pain, and I don't doubt they need all the support and love they can get. But it is unhealthy for them, and for us, to focus on "justice". Retaliation, vengeance, hatred -- these are truly dark emotions.
We ought to focus on grieving, praying, healing, and loving.
Monday, March 26, 2012
Fourth Sunday of Lent - Appreciate Your Blessings
"May God be gracious to us and bless us and make his face to shine upon us" (Psalm 67:1).
Anyone and anything that brings good or God-ness into our lives is a blessing. To bless is to bring the touch of God, the touch of love and goodness, to another by our presence as well as by our actions. Blessings are a greeting from God saying "I care about you. I desire what will be for your good. You are dear to my heart. I want your life to be filled with love."
Blessings are not always immediate, "feel good" sorts of things. Sometimes these blessings come disguised in the pain, struggle, and hardship of the unwanted parts of our lives. It is only later, with hindsight, that we look and see what a gift those times and events were for us.
As you pray through these days, may you grow in awareness of the countless blessings that are yours. May you become much more aware of how you yourself are a blessing in the lives of others by the loving quality of who you are and what you do. Most of all, may your love and appreciation for the Giver of all Gifts, the best of all blessings, continue to grow and be enriched.
Just last night, I led a prayer station as one of the rotations for groups of high school students for the youth group for which I serve as an adult volunteer. I led them through a brief, quiet reflection about their lives as journeys -- past, present, and future. One thing I really stressed to them was the importance of listening as a part of prayer. I figure I should probably practice what I know to be true... and I'm realizing the nature of this blogging prayer is very much "speaking, speaking, speaking". So tonight, I'm cutting this off here. I'm taking the next few moments to listen, and appreciate my blessings in silence.
Anyone and anything that brings good or God-ness into our lives is a blessing. To bless is to bring the touch of God, the touch of love and goodness, to another by our presence as well as by our actions. Blessings are a greeting from God saying "I care about you. I desire what will be for your good. You are dear to my heart. I want your life to be filled with love."
Blessings are not always immediate, "feel good" sorts of things. Sometimes these blessings come disguised in the pain, struggle, and hardship of the unwanted parts of our lives. It is only later, with hindsight, that we look and see what a gift those times and events were for us.
As you pray through these days, may you grow in awareness of the countless blessings that are yours. May you become much more aware of how you yourself are a blessing in the lives of others by the loving quality of who you are and what you do. Most of all, may your love and appreciation for the Giver of all Gifts, the best of all blessings, continue to grow and be enriched.
Just last night, I led a prayer station as one of the rotations for groups of high school students for the youth group for which I serve as an adult volunteer. I led them through a brief, quiet reflection about their lives as journeys -- past, present, and future. One thing I really stressed to them was the importance of listening as a part of prayer. I figure I should probably practice what I know to be true... and I'm realizing the nature of this blogging prayer is very much "speaking, speaking, speaking". So tonight, I'm cutting this off here. I'm taking the next few moments to listen, and appreciate my blessings in silence.
Saturday, Week 3 - Changed by Our Journey
"And all of us...are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another; for this comes from the Lord, the Spirit" (2 Corinthians 3:18).
Every significant journey changes us in some way. We are hardly ever aware of this while we are in the midst of it. We may have hints of these changes but it is only later, in looking back, that we gasp in amazement at what was being formed and shaped in our lives. Only then do we recognize how a new attitude, a stronger dedication, and a fuller passion stretched us into the fullness of life. Then we are able to identify the journey's ability to propel us into unexpected growth.
Unfortunately, our significant journeys can also alter us in negative ways we do not want. Sometimes we end up with greater disillusionment, deeper dissatisfaction, unending restlessness, frustrating confusion, or brittle patterns of disturbing anger and hostility. So much of what we learn from our noteworthy journeys depends on what we experience and how we go about responding.
It is a scary truth to realize that we as human beings are vulnerable to real regression when it comes to our spirituality and satisfaction in life. Furthermore, that this regression, or progression, depends on us. What if I fail to respond healthily to adverse life events? What if I dig myself a hole so deep, I'll never manage to come out of it?
Fortunately, I don't believe I've come across anything in life that has broken me down so much so that I am negatively affected by it for the long term. Like anyone else, of course, I've experienced some struggle in life, but I am confident that I have always managed to come out on the other side better off. Through some of my experiences, I have met some individuals whose hearts are truly hardened by their own past experiences. I am grateful to be able to say that my life has been joyous, but I believe this contrast places some sort of responsibility upon my shoulders.
It is very easy for me to avoid thinking about the hardships that are faced by huge percentages of our world's population. There are times when I manage to face these thoughts, but these occasions come and go fleetingly. In this moment, I pray for strength to recognize, and act on, the hardships faced by others.
Every significant journey changes us in some way. We are hardly ever aware of this while we are in the midst of it. We may have hints of these changes but it is only later, in looking back, that we gasp in amazement at what was being formed and shaped in our lives. Only then do we recognize how a new attitude, a stronger dedication, and a fuller passion stretched us into the fullness of life. Then we are able to identify the journey's ability to propel us into unexpected growth.
Unfortunately, our significant journeys can also alter us in negative ways we do not want. Sometimes we end up with greater disillusionment, deeper dissatisfaction, unending restlessness, frustrating confusion, or brittle patterns of disturbing anger and hostility. So much of what we learn from our noteworthy journeys depends on what we experience and how we go about responding.
It is a scary truth to realize that we as human beings are vulnerable to real regression when it comes to our spirituality and satisfaction in life. Furthermore, that this regression, or progression, depends on us. What if I fail to respond healthily to adverse life events? What if I dig myself a hole so deep, I'll never manage to come out of it?
Fortunately, I don't believe I've come across anything in life that has broken me down so much so that I am negatively affected by it for the long term. Like anyone else, of course, I've experienced some struggle in life, but I am confident that I have always managed to come out on the other side better off. Through some of my experiences, I have met some individuals whose hearts are truly hardened by their own past experiences. I am grateful to be able to say that my life has been joyous, but I believe this contrast places some sort of responsibility upon my shoulders.
It is very easy for me to avoid thinking about the hardships that are faced by huge percentages of our world's population. There are times when I manage to face these thoughts, but these occasions come and go fleetingly. In this moment, I pray for strength to recognize, and act on, the hardships faced by others.
Saturday, March 24, 2012
Friday, Week 3 - Turning to God
"Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word" (Luke 1:38).
When I think of "prayer," I think of the many ways a relationship develops. Certainly it happens through speaking to another person. It is also essential that it involve listening. How much more difficult to listen than to speak. More difficult yet is being at ease in a relationship when two persons are silent together.
Prayer is being with God in an intentional way. In other words, I can deliberately turn my mind and heart toward God in whatever I am involved. I can relate to God anytime and anywhere. As I prepare a meal, I can deliberately recall how God is with me. Prayer can take place as I enjoy the muscles and mobility of the human body or the beauty of winter snow. It might happen as I drive to work and sense God's love encompassing all who are on the freeway. Or when I am in the shower and I offer to God all that I am and all that I have as I begin the day.
Sometimes we are "pulled" into prayer, so to speak, when a sunset or a mountain or a newborn child catches our spirit and tumbles us into a deep awareness of Someone besides ourselves being there.
Tomorrow night, I will go to a youth group for which I serve as an adult leader. The agenda tomorrow is prayer - I am to lead one of several stations about prayer, basically demonstrating this very idea, that prayer can take shape in many different forms. The irony is, I've spent some time tonight praying about how I'd like to present prayer tomorrow night. Maybe I should just take them all to a coffee shop to blog about Sr. Joyce's Lenten reflections... it seems to work for me!
When I think of prayer, I think of the process, fully experienced. I believe this involves authentic time alone with God, as well as intentional communion with others. The two sides of this coin work together to enhance the experience. I have found great peace in praying on my own, then conveying the things I have spoken and heard during that solitary prayer to others. It is all prayer.
I am a big believer in this communication. There is nothing more peaceful to me than to share my inner feelings - though not wrecklessly - with others. We have so much to gain from the sharing of our lives. As well, we must be careful to listen as much as we speak.
When I think of "prayer," I think of the many ways a relationship develops. Certainly it happens through speaking to another person. It is also essential that it involve listening. How much more difficult to listen than to speak. More difficult yet is being at ease in a relationship when two persons are silent together.
Prayer is being with God in an intentional way. In other words, I can deliberately turn my mind and heart toward God in whatever I am involved. I can relate to God anytime and anywhere. As I prepare a meal, I can deliberately recall how God is with me. Prayer can take place as I enjoy the muscles and mobility of the human body or the beauty of winter snow. It might happen as I drive to work and sense God's love encompassing all who are on the freeway. Or when I am in the shower and I offer to God all that I am and all that I have as I begin the day.
Sometimes we are "pulled" into prayer, so to speak, when a sunset or a mountain or a newborn child catches our spirit and tumbles us into a deep awareness of Someone besides ourselves being there.
Tomorrow night, I will go to a youth group for which I serve as an adult leader. The agenda tomorrow is prayer - I am to lead one of several stations about prayer, basically demonstrating this very idea, that prayer can take shape in many different forms. The irony is, I've spent some time tonight praying about how I'd like to present prayer tomorrow night. Maybe I should just take them all to a coffee shop to blog about Sr. Joyce's Lenten reflections... it seems to work for me!
When I think of prayer, I think of the process, fully experienced. I believe this involves authentic time alone with God, as well as intentional communion with others. The two sides of this coin work together to enhance the experience. I have found great peace in praying on my own, then conveying the things I have spoken and heard during that solitary prayer to others. It is all prayer.
I am a big believer in this communication. There is nothing more peaceful to me than to share my inner feelings - though not wrecklessly - with others. We have so much to gain from the sharing of our lives. As well, we must be careful to listen as much as we speak.
Thursday, Week 3 - Hearts Burning with Love
"Within me there is something like a burning fire shut up in my bones; I am weary with holding it in, and I cannot" (Jeremiah 20:9).
How do we keep th elove of God aflame in us? How do we stoke the fires of our enthusiasm and passion for spiritual growth? We must stay close to the original flame of love, and draw near to the heart of God through daily prayer and through a continual yearning to be one with the divine presence. Each time we intentionally draw near to God we light a candle in our heart.
Sometimes our prayer and our desire are not enough to keep the passion for God a live in us. At these times we need to draw close to others whose hearts are on fire with God. Simply by being with them we can often catch a spark that will renew our own lost radiance. Goodness attracts goodness. Fire leaps from heart to heart.
We do not know the day when the spark in us will burst into greater fire. We cannot force the flame before its time. We can only do our part and entrust the kindling to our God and the people God brings into our lives.
I read reflections such as this, and I have to simply sigh at the continued patience I am called to practice. Sometimes, this sort of daily reflection actually pushes me to feel more restless, which I suppose is how I'm meant to feel. That's the point. It's the restlessness, combined with authentic prayer and discernment, that will lead me to be who and where I am meant to be.
I currently sit at one of the local favorite coffee shops here in Omaha, NE. How did I end up in this town, anyway? I look at my life and see that it has recently hit a destination. For years, I had a track to follow, I knew the classes I needed to take, and the job I was supposed to get. Now I'm here.
It's a Saturday night, and I don't have plans to party. My life can be described as segmented. Part of me is navigating the brand new world I have entered, managing the challenges and appreciating the perks of my job. The other part works to discover the ways I'd most like to spend my time on the nights and weekends. I sit here tonight, and ask myself: "What's next?" Silence.
I am happy. But I am restless. I am convinced that I am where I am meant to be.
How do we keep th elove of God aflame in us? How do we stoke the fires of our enthusiasm and passion for spiritual growth? We must stay close to the original flame of love, and draw near to the heart of God through daily prayer and through a continual yearning to be one with the divine presence. Each time we intentionally draw near to God we light a candle in our heart.
Sometimes our prayer and our desire are not enough to keep the passion for God a live in us. At these times we need to draw close to others whose hearts are on fire with God. Simply by being with them we can often catch a spark that will renew our own lost radiance. Goodness attracts goodness. Fire leaps from heart to heart.
We do not know the day when the spark in us will burst into greater fire. We cannot force the flame before its time. We can only do our part and entrust the kindling to our God and the people God brings into our lives.
I read reflections such as this, and I have to simply sigh at the continued patience I am called to practice. Sometimes, this sort of daily reflection actually pushes me to feel more restless, which I suppose is how I'm meant to feel. That's the point. It's the restlessness, combined with authentic prayer and discernment, that will lead me to be who and where I am meant to be.
I currently sit at one of the local favorite coffee shops here in Omaha, NE. How did I end up in this town, anyway? I look at my life and see that it has recently hit a destination. For years, I had a track to follow, I knew the classes I needed to take, and the job I was supposed to get. Now I'm here.
It's a Saturday night, and I don't have plans to party. My life can be described as segmented. Part of me is navigating the brand new world I have entered, managing the challenges and appreciating the perks of my job. The other part works to discover the ways I'd most like to spend my time on the nights and weekends. I sit here tonight, and ask myself: "What's next?" Silence.
I am happy. But I am restless. I am convinced that I am where I am meant to be.
Wednesday, Week 3 - God's Home in Our Heart
"Where can I go from your spirit? Or where can I flee from your presence?" (Psalm 139:7).
Deep within us is a place where we have found God and God has found us. Once in a great while we come to this place within us and we realize it is the goal of our seeking. It feels like home. It is a place of safety and security, an ideal home where we can be ourselves and know that we are accepted for who we are. We have easy access to understanding and acceptance. We may be challenged to grow here, but always in the context of a deep and strong love.
Our hearts and minds are easily distracted by many other things, everyday realities such as work, maintaining a physical home, raising a family, shopping for life's necessities. As much as we yearn to stay closely connected with this inner source we quickly lose our sense of it. Thus, we spend most of our lives seeking what we momentarily find and then lose again.
Most of the time we search without relaly being aware of what is gnawing at us deep inside. We search for something called happiness. We long for a gift named peace. We search for meaning in our lives, for love, for understanding of ourselves and others, for an acceptance of the ups and downs of the human condition.
It is interesting to me to note how confident Sr. Joyce is in her generalizing description of the nature of our lives' paths. To claim that we have all, at one time, found that place within us that feels like home, is a bold claim. I cannot deny, however, that it is definitely true for me. The time in my life that I have known this feeling the best is high school.
I think about those years, and what it was that fostered the right context for such a comfortable, secure feeling I felt from within. The right people. The right place. The right words, lighting, love, just everything about those moments was instrumental in introducing me to that feeling that really felt like home.
I do not intend to devalue the people in my life today, because I know that I am as loved as I have ever been in my life. I do, from time to time, enjoy flashes of that feeling. Still, though, I must admit that the peak of my closeness to God occurred back in those teenage years. I didn't have quite the responsibility that I hold now - that may have been the biggest difference. At the time, my lack of responsibility allowed me to really find my place and my love for God. This feeling is not extinguished now, but is admittedly a little tougher to grasp onto.
But I see myself heading in the right direction. For that reason, I smile. :)
Deep within us is a place where we have found God and God has found us. Once in a great while we come to this place within us and we realize it is the goal of our seeking. It feels like home. It is a place of safety and security, an ideal home where we can be ourselves and know that we are accepted for who we are. We have easy access to understanding and acceptance. We may be challenged to grow here, but always in the context of a deep and strong love.
Our hearts and minds are easily distracted by many other things, everyday realities such as work, maintaining a physical home, raising a family, shopping for life's necessities. As much as we yearn to stay closely connected with this inner source we quickly lose our sense of it. Thus, we spend most of our lives seeking what we momentarily find and then lose again.
Most of the time we search without relaly being aware of what is gnawing at us deep inside. We search for something called happiness. We long for a gift named peace. We search for meaning in our lives, for love, for understanding of ourselves and others, for an acceptance of the ups and downs of the human condition.
It is interesting to me to note how confident Sr. Joyce is in her generalizing description of the nature of our lives' paths. To claim that we have all, at one time, found that place within us that feels like home, is a bold claim. I cannot deny, however, that it is definitely true for me. The time in my life that I have known this feeling the best is high school.
I think about those years, and what it was that fostered the right context for such a comfortable, secure feeling I felt from within. The right people. The right place. The right words, lighting, love, just everything about those moments was instrumental in introducing me to that feeling that really felt like home.
I do not intend to devalue the people in my life today, because I know that I am as loved as I have ever been in my life. I do, from time to time, enjoy flashes of that feeling. Still, though, I must admit that the peak of my closeness to God occurred back in those teenage years. I didn't have quite the responsibility that I hold now - that may have been the biggest difference. At the time, my lack of responsibility allowed me to really find my place and my love for God. This feeling is not extinguished now, but is admittedly a little tougher to grasp onto.
But I see myself heading in the right direction. For that reason, I smile. :)
Tuesday, Week 3 - Finding Time to Pray
"The Lord, your God, is in your midst... he wil lrenew you in his love" (Zephaniah 3:17)
What often keeps a person from daily prayer is the belief that one has to follow through perfectly or exactly every day. For instance, someone might decide to pray for fifteen minutes every morning. After two days of this, one of the children is ill, and there goes the fifteen minutes. The next morning it may be a flat tire or some other household emergency that takes another fifteen minutes.
Rather than say, "It's no use, I can't find time to pray," a person needs to say, "Well, I wasn't able to have the space the last two days, but I can today...and I will. I'll begin again today.
Spiritual growth doesn't just happen. It means not answering the phone or door during one's special time of prayer, not giving in to the long list of "must do's" which come to mind when we are finally quiet, and asking family members to respect one's quiet time by not interfering unless it's a real emergency.
It's certainly easy to relate to the process Sr. Joyce describes in this reflection. This doesn't just apply to prayer, either. For me, there are a few things I try to motivate myself to do on a more regular basis... cook, run, work out, read, get to bed on time, get up early enough for breakfast... and none of these things seems to last more than a couple of weeks before I fall back into my lazier habits. But I do try to stay optimistic. I always try again. Sometimes I keep going longer than the last time I tried it. In fact, I feel like I may even be too comfortable with the idea of failing to keep these goals for longer than a few days.
But I must continue to forgive myself, so long as I continue to push myself in the right direction. I do believe that I am taking steps towards becoming, slowly, a more faithful and more effective person. Unfortunately, it's not going to come as one great personal "renaissance". I must realize that in order to be the fullest person I can be, it's going to take time. I want to push myself. I pray that I will ultimately know that I am succeeding, but know that there will always be room to improve.
What often keeps a person from daily prayer is the belief that one has to follow through perfectly or exactly every day. For instance, someone might decide to pray for fifteen minutes every morning. After two days of this, one of the children is ill, and there goes the fifteen minutes. The next morning it may be a flat tire or some other household emergency that takes another fifteen minutes.
Rather than say, "It's no use, I can't find time to pray," a person needs to say, "Well, I wasn't able to have the space the last two days, but I can today...and I will. I'll begin again today.
Spiritual growth doesn't just happen. It means not answering the phone or door during one's special time of prayer, not giving in to the long list of "must do's" which come to mind when we are finally quiet, and asking family members to respect one's quiet time by not interfering unless it's a real emergency.
It's certainly easy to relate to the process Sr. Joyce describes in this reflection. This doesn't just apply to prayer, either. For me, there are a few things I try to motivate myself to do on a more regular basis... cook, run, work out, read, get to bed on time, get up early enough for breakfast... and none of these things seems to last more than a couple of weeks before I fall back into my lazier habits. But I do try to stay optimistic. I always try again. Sometimes I keep going longer than the last time I tried it. In fact, I feel like I may even be too comfortable with the idea of failing to keep these goals for longer than a few days.
But I must continue to forgive myself, so long as I continue to push myself in the right direction. I do believe that I am taking steps towards becoming, slowly, a more faithful and more effective person. Unfortunately, it's not going to come as one great personal "renaissance". I must realize that in order to be the fullest person I can be, it's going to take time. I want to push myself. I pray that I will ultimately know that I am succeeding, but know that there will always be room to improve.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Monday, Week 3 - Learning the Dance of God
"Take delight in the Lord, and God will give you the desires of your heart" (Psalm 37:4).
Our minds might be filled with all the stuff that makes up our day: the unfinished work, the old fights, or the over-full calendar. Our quiet time floods us with the realization of how busy we are. We may feel depressed or discouraged as we remain in the solitude and stillness of our reflection time. Or, we may fear what could surface from within us if we remain in stillness for too long. All of this is natural and normal. It takes time to slow down, to become still, to let go. We must be patient with ourselves and with the process of quiet reflection. We must take time to learn the steps of the dance.
We must also let go of thinking that we have to have something to show for our efforts, for our time spent dancing with God. Just choosing to be with God is valuable. We cannot control what will happen. We must simply trust God with our lives, trust that God will never harm us or lead us anywhere but into greater harmony and integrity. Prayer is not about "feeling good." Rather, it is about learning the dance of God, which is the dance of truth and wholeness.
Yet another reflection about patience, particularly patience with prayer. I feel that it helps to be aware of this quality of prayer. In fact, it may be the case that the less one seeks for "results", the more likely he/she will reap the subtle but powerful benefits of prayer. Anxiously seeking for concrete answers to prayer can be a distraction from the true purpose of prayer.
I still recognize that I miss nights in my Lenten promise to pray every night with Sr. Joyce's reflections. However, I have noticed that I am spending more time throughout the day really considering God's presence in my life on a more consistent basis. I'm convinced that pushing myself into the habit of reflection on a (nearly) nightly basis, has spurred me to pray throughout the day on my own.
Tonight, I feel great appreciation for where I'm at in my life. I am restless, to be sure, about the uncertainties. But this, I believe, is to be embraced.
Our minds might be filled with all the stuff that makes up our day: the unfinished work, the old fights, or the over-full calendar. Our quiet time floods us with the realization of how busy we are. We may feel depressed or discouraged as we remain in the solitude and stillness of our reflection time. Or, we may fear what could surface from within us if we remain in stillness for too long. All of this is natural and normal. It takes time to slow down, to become still, to let go. We must be patient with ourselves and with the process of quiet reflection. We must take time to learn the steps of the dance.
We must also let go of thinking that we have to have something to show for our efforts, for our time spent dancing with God. Just choosing to be with God is valuable. We cannot control what will happen. We must simply trust God with our lives, trust that God will never harm us or lead us anywhere but into greater harmony and integrity. Prayer is not about "feeling good." Rather, it is about learning the dance of God, which is the dance of truth and wholeness.
Yet another reflection about patience, particularly patience with prayer. I feel that it helps to be aware of this quality of prayer. In fact, it may be the case that the less one seeks for "results", the more likely he/she will reap the subtle but powerful benefits of prayer. Anxiously seeking for concrete answers to prayer can be a distraction from the true purpose of prayer.
I still recognize that I miss nights in my Lenten promise to pray every night with Sr. Joyce's reflections. However, I have noticed that I am spending more time throughout the day really considering God's presence in my life on a more consistent basis. I'm convinced that pushing myself into the habit of reflection on a (nearly) nightly basis, has spurred me to pray throughout the day on my own.
Tonight, I feel great appreciation for where I'm at in my life. I am restless, to be sure, about the uncertainties. But this, I believe, is to be embraced.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Third Sunday of Lent - Our Indwelling God
Do you not know that you are God's temple and that God's Spirit dwells in you?" (1 Corinthians 3:16)
As I grew older, I recognized God's inner presence as a dynamic source of guidance and consolation. I became ever more deeply rooted in the belief that this indwelling God loves me totally and unconditionally. To this day, I draw comfort and courage from the belief that I am a container holding the presence of God. This awesome and humbling gift of the Divine Indwelling constantly enlivens my spiritual path and seeds my transformation.
The more I become aware of God's presence in my life, the more I thirst to know this Sacred One at an ever deeper and deeper level. Like a cup that seemingly has more and more room to be filled, so I feel that my capacity to be united with God keeps expanding. The more I know how loved I am by God (the more my cup is filled) the more I am always thirsting for more of God (seeing how much room the cup still has in it to receive).
Tonight, I watched an excellent pair of videos at the recommendation of my roommate. The presenter was Brene Brown, a researcher of shame and vulnerability. Specifically, she speaks of the inevitability of shame and guilt in our lives (and the distinction between the two), as well as the power of vulnerability. She warns against the common practice of numbing ourselves of shame, or disallowing ourselves to open up to vulnerability. Essentially, she preaches self-expression, a willingness to fail and even embrace failure, and most importantly, connection.
I believe these points have an important spiritual application. Our God gave us life. He did not give us this life only to see us numb ourselves of any emotion. He gave us a life strewn with struggle for a reason, and it is of our own free will that we either accept and embrace the ups and downs of our journey, or shut down entirely to feel nothing. I have to believe we are called to the former.
It is better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved it all. And dare I say, this applies not only to romantic relationships, but equally so to our love for humanity, laughter, colors, song ... life.
As I grew older, I recognized God's inner presence as a dynamic source of guidance and consolation. I became ever more deeply rooted in the belief that this indwelling God loves me totally and unconditionally. To this day, I draw comfort and courage from the belief that I am a container holding the presence of God. This awesome and humbling gift of the Divine Indwelling constantly enlivens my spiritual path and seeds my transformation.
The more I become aware of God's presence in my life, the more I thirst to know this Sacred One at an ever deeper and deeper level. Like a cup that seemingly has more and more room to be filled, so I feel that my capacity to be united with God keeps expanding. The more I know how loved I am by God (the more my cup is filled) the more I am always thirsting for more of God (seeing how much room the cup still has in it to receive).
Tonight, I watched an excellent pair of videos at the recommendation of my roommate. The presenter was Brene Brown, a researcher of shame and vulnerability. Specifically, she speaks of the inevitability of shame and guilt in our lives (and the distinction between the two), as well as the power of vulnerability. She warns against the common practice of numbing ourselves of shame, or disallowing ourselves to open up to vulnerability. Essentially, she preaches self-expression, a willingness to fail and even embrace failure, and most importantly, connection.
I believe these points have an important spiritual application. Our God gave us life. He did not give us this life only to see us numb ourselves of any emotion. He gave us a life strewn with struggle for a reason, and it is of our own free will that we either accept and embrace the ups and downs of our journey, or shut down entirely to feel nothing. I have to believe we are called to the former.
It is better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved it all. And dare I say, this applies not only to romantic relationships, but equally so to our love for humanity, laughter, colors, song ... life.
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Saturday, Week 2 - Shedding Our False Self
"Give up your faults and direct your hands rightly, and cleanse your heart from all sin" (Sirach 38:10).
Transforming Presence, layers and layers of my false self keep being stripped away from me. I walk with caterpillar feet, knowing that the skin must be shed time and again before I find my butterfly wings. I look at the old discarded peelings of the person I thought I was with some dismay and sadness, but also with some relief and joy.
With every lifted layer, I feel lighter. With every painful peeling, I am freer. With every discarded skin, I stretch deeper. With every sloughed off segment, I grow wiser. Keep teaching me, Freedom Bringer, that it is never too late to embrace the changes that lead to my truest self. Keep nudging me away from confining security when I cling too tightly to what needs to go.
Continue to attune my spirit to your song of ongoing transformation. Remind me daily that I will always have another layer that needs to be shed.
Well it's been several days since I've managed to sit down and fulfill my promise to pray intentionally. I have learned, relatively recently (over the past couple of years), not to beat myself up too much over such imperfections -- I fully acknowledge my shortcomings, but letting this fact get to me only hinders my ability to rebound and do a better job moving forward.
I think the most challenging aspect of this series of reflections from Sr. Joyce that I have been exposed to over the last few weeks is the existence of two seemingly conflicting messages. The first message is this, as expressed into tonight's reflection: Now is the time to become the person you are meant to be. The second message, though, says: Be patient.
Each of these statements, standing alone, are very appealing. They seem like sound practices for a healthy spiritual development, etc. But when the first is heard with the second in mind, there is definitely a tension that I feel. I feel the pull in two directions, and it makes me think. Just think.
And maybe that's the point. To think, at least regarding these topics, is to pray. And to pray, and pray often, is the first step in the right direction.
Transforming Presence, layers and layers of my false self keep being stripped away from me. I walk with caterpillar feet, knowing that the skin must be shed time and again before I find my butterfly wings. I look at the old discarded peelings of the person I thought I was with some dismay and sadness, but also with some relief and joy.
With every lifted layer, I feel lighter. With every painful peeling, I am freer. With every discarded skin, I stretch deeper. With every sloughed off segment, I grow wiser. Keep teaching me, Freedom Bringer, that it is never too late to embrace the changes that lead to my truest self. Keep nudging me away from confining security when I cling too tightly to what needs to go.
Continue to attune my spirit to your song of ongoing transformation. Remind me daily that I will always have another layer that needs to be shed.
Well it's been several days since I've managed to sit down and fulfill my promise to pray intentionally. I have learned, relatively recently (over the past couple of years), not to beat myself up too much over such imperfections -- I fully acknowledge my shortcomings, but letting this fact get to me only hinders my ability to rebound and do a better job moving forward.
I think the most challenging aspect of this series of reflections from Sr. Joyce that I have been exposed to over the last few weeks is the existence of two seemingly conflicting messages. The first message is this, as expressed into tonight's reflection: Now is the time to become the person you are meant to be. The second message, though, says: Be patient.
Each of these statements, standing alone, are very appealing. They seem like sound practices for a healthy spiritual development, etc. But when the first is heard with the second in mind, there is definitely a tension that I feel. I feel the pull in two directions, and it makes me think. Just think.
And maybe that's the point. To think, at least regarding these topics, is to pray. And to pray, and pray often, is the first step in the right direction.
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