The spiritual director and pastoral psychologist William Barry relates a story about his dying mother. He says: “When my mother was dying of cancer, she said that she prayed every night that God would take her in her sleep. I asked her what God was like, and she answered, “He’s a lot better than he’s made out to be” (God and You: Prayer as a Personal Relationship, p.16).
We can get an idea of who God is from reading, discussions, sermons, TV evangelists, or people who use God to justify their own personal cause. But to really know God, you need to make time to cultivate a relationship and that means prayer is a, if not, the key ingredient. Getting to know God is like getting to know another person. You have to spend meaningful time in their presence to really get to know them. In that conscious relationship there is sharing, especially if that relationship is going to be a deep relationship. I’m pretty sure that all of us have had the experience of being with someone and thinking that we were relating only to realize that the other person was really somewhere else. The sharing, such as it was, was superficial.
Barry’s mother’s comment about what God is like is one that grew out of a lifetime of having spent time with God in prayer. It was a sharing of relationship.
Perhaps another way to put it is to say that it is a sharing of centers. A center is what anchors our lives, that gives stability to our being. What is it that keeps you going? What is it that gives your life meaning? In the midst of this busy, driven world, often chaotic world, how do you keep your balance? What helps you live with integrity in the midst of the confusion and competing siren calls of the world? Whatever it is, it not only affects your understanding of who you are, but also affects your relationship with others, the natural world, and with God.
The tragedy, of course, is that many people don’t really have a clear center. It is undefined, ill-formed, lacking integrity, contentment and peace. And so the chaos within is made worse by the chaos without. And this affects all areas of life and all our relationships.
In one translation of Psalm 131:2, we read: “Enough for me to keep my soul tranquil and quiet like a child in its mother’s arms, as content as a child that has been weaned.” Reflect on that image – a maturing, growing child resting in the arms of its mother. The Psalmist has found peace and rest. He has found his center. The prophet Isaiah reminds us that: “In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and in trust shall be your strength” (Isaiah 30:15).
In both of these passages we are reminded that when our center finds its center in God there is a harmony to life. The parts of one’s life seem to fit together like the pieces of a puzzle, revealing a wholeness and a picture that is the heart of each person. That doesn’t mean that there are no more struggles or painful situations with which we need to cope, but that underneath it all and at the center there is a quality of life and relationship that says “all will be well.”
Cultivating that center is a process and it doesn’t simply happen overnight. But it does begin with “showing up”, that is, making time to be present with God who is at the center of all LIFE. Just as we give time to any relationship that is important to us, we give time to this most important and critical of relationships. It will mean a daily and regular time spent in quality prayer. That, of course, is the goal. But the thing about our gracious God is that God is there whenever we show up. But pretty soon, we realize that it isn’t enough to make time for God when we are desperate or needy or have nothing else better to do. As we cultivate that relationship with God and that relationship becomes the center of our life and begins to give order and contentment and peace and stability to every area of life, we will do more than “just show up”. We’ll realize that when we make regular time for God, that that loving use of time is a sign of the level of our centeredness – a centeredness that shapes our lives.
“Come,” my heart says, “Seek his face.” Your face, Lord, do I seek” (Psalm 27;8)
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
"For A Child of God"
Jessica Powers was a diminutive, unassuming Catholic nun who wrote some of the most contemplative and moving spiritual poetry of the 20th century. As I read her poem below – “For A Child of God”, I was reminded of the words of the Apostle Paul: “Don’t you realize that you are God’s temple and the Spirit of God is living in you?” (1 Corinthians 3:16).
Paul reminds us, and we need reminding, that one of the real mysteries of the Christian life is that God dwells deep within us, as in a tabernacle, a temple, a sacred place in the depths of our being. While all human beings possess the image of God and are due the respect and dignity that calls forth, those who have come to know God in Christ and experienced the transforming power of God, have become “the temple of the living God” (2 Corinthians 6:16). It is a powerful and intimate image. It means that forever, at every moment, God is at work in us, loving us, healing us, freeing us, inviting us into incredible intimacy. But for the most part, we are ignorant of what is taking place. Or if we try and grasp the theological (Oh, there is that word again!) truth of this divine promise, we find ourselves way out of our depth in trying to understand and express it. Maybe that is why the mystics (those who have been most keenly aware of the intimate dwelling of God within) have almost always reverted to poetry.
In the poem below there are some powerful images. But the one that immediately catches my eye is the line: “None can assail you in that place save your own evil, routing grace.” It is a reminder that this intimacy of our relationship with God is a matter of grace, but so often we, not the external circumstances that surround us, not the dark forces of a fallen world, but our own doubt and forgetfulness, are there “routing grace”. And because we forget, and because we don’t make time to cultivate this intimacy we find ourselves confused and de-centered and desperately looking for someone or something thing that will fill this deep void which we have created in our souls.
But the poem ends on a word of hope: “But there are days when watching eyes could guess that you hold Paradise. Sometimes the shining overflows and everyone around you knows.” Beautiful words. “But there are days….” This intimacy with God, this tabernacle within the soul, overflows in all its peace and goodness and love and people know that God is present.
“Child, has no one ever told you God is in your soul?”
======
The saints and mystics
had a name
for that deep
inwardness of flame,
the height or depth
or ground or goal
Which is God’s dwelling in the soul?
Heaven--
because God is there.
All day and when
you wake at night
think of that place
of living light,
yours and within you
and aglow
where only God
and you can go.
None can assail you
in that place
save your own evil,
routing grace.
Not even angels
see or hear,
nor the dark spirits
prowling near.
But there are days
when watching eyes
could guess that you
hold Paradise.
Sometimes the shining
overflows
and everyone
around you knows.
Child, has no one ever told you
God is in your soul?
Paul reminds us, and we need reminding, that one of the real mysteries of the Christian life is that God dwells deep within us, as in a tabernacle, a temple, a sacred place in the depths of our being. While all human beings possess the image of God and are due the respect and dignity that calls forth, those who have come to know God in Christ and experienced the transforming power of God, have become “the temple of the living God” (2 Corinthians 6:16). It is a powerful and intimate image. It means that forever, at every moment, God is at work in us, loving us, healing us, freeing us, inviting us into incredible intimacy. But for the most part, we are ignorant of what is taking place. Or if we try and grasp the theological (Oh, there is that word again!) truth of this divine promise, we find ourselves way out of our depth in trying to understand and express it. Maybe that is why the mystics (those who have been most keenly aware of the intimate dwelling of God within) have almost always reverted to poetry.
In the poem below there are some powerful images. But the one that immediately catches my eye is the line: “None can assail you in that place save your own evil, routing grace.” It is a reminder that this intimacy of our relationship with God is a matter of grace, but so often we, not the external circumstances that surround us, not the dark forces of a fallen world, but our own doubt and forgetfulness, are there “routing grace”. And because we forget, and because we don’t make time to cultivate this intimacy we find ourselves confused and de-centered and desperately looking for someone or something thing that will fill this deep void which we have created in our souls.
But the poem ends on a word of hope: “But there are days when watching eyes could guess that you hold Paradise. Sometimes the shining overflows and everyone around you knows.” Beautiful words. “But there are days….” This intimacy with God, this tabernacle within the soul, overflows in all its peace and goodness and love and people know that God is present.
“Child, has no one ever told you God is in your soul?”
======
The saints and mystics
had a name
for that deep
inwardness of flame,
the height or depth
or ground or goal
Which is God’s dwelling in the soul?
Heaven--
because God is there.
All day and when
you wake at night
think of that place
of living light,
yours and within you
and aglow
where only God
and you can go.
None can assail you
in that place
save your own evil,
routing grace.
Not even angels
see or hear,
nor the dark spirits
prowling near.
But there are days
when watching eyes
could guess that you
hold Paradise.
Sometimes the shining
overflows
and everyone
around you knows.
Child, has no one ever told you
God is in your soul?
Friday, July 1, 2011
Rust on the Soul
A few years back while doing some teaching in the Republic of Georgia I was riding in a car with a friend. I was sitting in the passenger seat and felt something under the throw rug under my feet. Lifting it up I discovered a thin board covering a hole in the floor that had been eaten away by rust. The only thing keeping me from the road was a board and a rug.
Rust -- corrosion that weakens the structure and integrity of the metal. Rust eats away, causing cracks that, if not treated, not only weaken a structure, but can destroy it.
Now, there are ways to avoid rust and corrosion. Treating the metal and making sure that it stays clean, free of anything that will cause it to oxidize, can protect the metal. But this takes intentionality and care.
In a similar way there can be “rust” on the soul. Compromise and half-hearted devotion can erode and eat away at that center of our life that is built around a relationship with God. Like rust, our half-hearted “yeses” to God weaken the fiber of our lives. And the real danger is that often we notice the effect only after much time has passed. Our compromises and half-measures are so plausible, so reasonable, that we don’t appreciate how they are negatively impacting our lives. They seem to make a lot of sense. In fact, we get pretty good at rationalizing and can even rationalize with great conviction. After all, we have to live in the real world. Our consumer-driven, efficiency-minded, success and result-oriented culture places pretty high demands on us. At least, so we rationalize. But deep in our hearts we know that something is not right.
In the Book of Revelation, God says to the Church of Laodicea: “I know your works; you are neither cold nor hot. I wish that you were either cold or hot. So, because you are lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I am about to spit you out of my mouth” (Revelation 2:15-16). This vivid picture is a striking warning about deceiving ourselves. It a warning about the danger of saying an enthusiastic “yes” to God’s forgiveness and salvation, but only a qualified “yes” to the daily obedience that life requires.
And while this self-deception and half-heartedness is a danger for all of us, it is especially true for those in leadership positions. There is a Hasidic story in which Rabbi Jizchak Meir said: “When one assumes a position of leadership, many things are required: yeshiva, an office, a desk, chairs, an administrator, a janitor, etc. And then comes the evil enemy and takes away the innermost point, but all the rest remains as it was and the wheel keeps turning, only the inner point fails.” The inner point is the relationship with God. The story reminds us that it is possible to have a thriving, prestigious, even well-thought of organization without the inner point. “Success” in the world’s sense of the term, is no evidence of faithfulness and approval by God. The tragedy in all this is that with the inner point, the center, the point of reference, gone, we are left spinning our wheels and have lost the meaning of our existence and the purpose of our activities. We can all point to colleges and universities that began as Christian institutions with strong convictions and commitment to the glory of God, only to abandon that allegiance along the way. They may still be famous, prestigious, lucrative institutions, but they have lost their inner point. It can happen to churches, mission organizations, para-church organizations, and the list goes on. And as tragic as that is, it is rust on the individual soul, yours and mine, that is the most disastrous.
The Bible reminds us over and over again that in life there is always a danger of mistaken priorities. The first and greatest commandment remains: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might” (Deuteronomy 6:4-5; cf. Mark 12:30-31). To love God is to yearn for, desire, hope for, pray for, work for, strive for that which glorifies God and puts God in God’s place in our lives. To love others as we love ourselves is to desire and work for that which God desires for them. Jesus lived and proclaimed this and expects his followers to do the same. It is a call to a life of radical focus.
We have heard this before. It was, or should have been, what we were told when we were invited to follow Jesus. Some of those who begin to live their lives this way can, after a while, lose their radical focus on God. Something or someone else slips into the center, perhaps something that began as a service to God and the church. But eventually this something becomes more important than God himself. Basically, a pious idol has set itself up in our life, perhaps without our even noticing it. We still pray, we still serve, we still read our Bible, but, as we look at our prayers, it seems that they are focused on asking God to bless our most important concern (my relationships, my desires, my ministry, my church, etc). Serving God has imperceptibly and unconsciously turned into making use of God. Rust begins to corrode our soul.
For others, their faith has lost that radical orientation. They still profess faith in God and would probably identify themselves as a follower of Jesus, but the zeal and the passion are gone. So are those times of prayer and bible study. God sometimes feels close, especially at camp or a retreat or when the worship is really “happening.” But they have become consumers of religion rather than cultivators of the spiritual life.
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the center, the inner point, that commitment to knowing and doing the will of God, loses its place and something else becomes the center. And the peace and sense of mission and joy no longer seem to be there. The real tragedy is that we often don’t realize the true state until it is almost too late. I say “almost” because it doesn’t have to end in disaster. While we may need others to help us see the deterioration in our spiritual life, it is possible to arrest the decay and weakening of our relationship with God and the dislocation of our spiritual center. A good way to come to self-knowledge and renewal is to get back to basics by focusing on Christ and especially the cross. Jesus reminds us that we are loved and the object of God’s grace and that no matter how far we have wandered or the degree of decay or breakdown in our relationship with God, we can begin again. Acknowledgement, repentance, forgiveness and a new start – all of this is grace.
So, what about you? Is there rust on your soul? What are you going to do about it?
Rust -- corrosion that weakens the structure and integrity of the metal. Rust eats away, causing cracks that, if not treated, not only weaken a structure, but can destroy it.
Now, there are ways to avoid rust and corrosion. Treating the metal and making sure that it stays clean, free of anything that will cause it to oxidize, can protect the metal. But this takes intentionality and care.
In a similar way there can be “rust” on the soul. Compromise and half-hearted devotion can erode and eat away at that center of our life that is built around a relationship with God. Like rust, our half-hearted “yeses” to God weaken the fiber of our lives. And the real danger is that often we notice the effect only after much time has passed. Our compromises and half-measures are so plausible, so reasonable, that we don’t appreciate how they are negatively impacting our lives. They seem to make a lot of sense. In fact, we get pretty good at rationalizing and can even rationalize with great conviction. After all, we have to live in the real world. Our consumer-driven, efficiency-minded, success and result-oriented culture places pretty high demands on us. At least, so we rationalize. But deep in our hearts we know that something is not right.
In the Book of Revelation, God says to the Church of Laodicea: “I know your works; you are neither cold nor hot. I wish that you were either cold or hot. So, because you are lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I am about to spit you out of my mouth” (Revelation 2:15-16). This vivid picture is a striking warning about deceiving ourselves. It a warning about the danger of saying an enthusiastic “yes” to God’s forgiveness and salvation, but only a qualified “yes” to the daily obedience that life requires.
And while this self-deception and half-heartedness is a danger for all of us, it is especially true for those in leadership positions. There is a Hasidic story in which Rabbi Jizchak Meir said: “When one assumes a position of leadership, many things are required: yeshiva, an office, a desk, chairs, an administrator, a janitor, etc. And then comes the evil enemy and takes away the innermost point, but all the rest remains as it was and the wheel keeps turning, only the inner point fails.” The inner point is the relationship with God. The story reminds us that it is possible to have a thriving, prestigious, even well-thought of organization without the inner point. “Success” in the world’s sense of the term, is no evidence of faithfulness and approval by God. The tragedy in all this is that with the inner point, the center, the point of reference, gone, we are left spinning our wheels and have lost the meaning of our existence and the purpose of our activities. We can all point to colleges and universities that began as Christian institutions with strong convictions and commitment to the glory of God, only to abandon that allegiance along the way. They may still be famous, prestigious, lucrative institutions, but they have lost their inner point. It can happen to churches, mission organizations, para-church organizations, and the list goes on. And as tragic as that is, it is rust on the individual soul, yours and mine, that is the most disastrous.
The Bible reminds us over and over again that in life there is always a danger of mistaken priorities. The first and greatest commandment remains: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might” (Deuteronomy 6:4-5; cf. Mark 12:30-31). To love God is to yearn for, desire, hope for, pray for, work for, strive for that which glorifies God and puts God in God’s place in our lives. To love others as we love ourselves is to desire and work for that which God desires for them. Jesus lived and proclaimed this and expects his followers to do the same. It is a call to a life of radical focus.
We have heard this before. It was, or should have been, what we were told when we were invited to follow Jesus. Some of those who begin to live their lives this way can, after a while, lose their radical focus on God. Something or someone else slips into the center, perhaps something that began as a service to God and the church. But eventually this something becomes more important than God himself. Basically, a pious idol has set itself up in our life, perhaps without our even noticing it. We still pray, we still serve, we still read our Bible, but, as we look at our prayers, it seems that they are focused on asking God to bless our most important concern (my relationships, my desires, my ministry, my church, etc). Serving God has imperceptibly and unconsciously turned into making use of God. Rust begins to corrode our soul.
For others, their faith has lost that radical orientation. They still profess faith in God and would probably identify themselves as a follower of Jesus, but the zeal and the passion are gone. So are those times of prayer and bible study. God sometimes feels close, especially at camp or a retreat or when the worship is really “happening.” But they have become consumers of religion rather than cultivators of the spiritual life.
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the center, the inner point, that commitment to knowing and doing the will of God, loses its place and something else becomes the center. And the peace and sense of mission and joy no longer seem to be there. The real tragedy is that we often don’t realize the true state until it is almost too late. I say “almost” because it doesn’t have to end in disaster. While we may need others to help us see the deterioration in our spiritual life, it is possible to arrest the decay and weakening of our relationship with God and the dislocation of our spiritual center. A good way to come to self-knowledge and renewal is to get back to basics by focusing on Christ and especially the cross. Jesus reminds us that we are loved and the object of God’s grace and that no matter how far we have wandered or the degree of decay or breakdown in our relationship with God, we can begin again. Acknowledgement, repentance, forgiveness and a new start – all of this is grace.
So, what about you? Is there rust on your soul? What are you going to do about it?
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