Thank you for wandering these highlands with me over the past many days. It has been a pleasure to walk with you.
You will still find me here, maybe a little less frequently, but here.
I am going to turn and go north for a bit. See where Spirit leads me.
I look forward to more journeys together.
Peace.
Happy and joyous Easter! Our Lenten journey has ended, and we find ourselves in the light of Easter morning.
This journey began in the middle of the desert with a different kind of Ash Wednesday. As the sun breaks this Easter Day, new lessons of Resurrection shine through.
Jesus came and stood in their midst and said to them, "Peace be with you...As the Father has sent me, so I send you." ~John 20:20–21
Blessings and peace to you and your families! Enjoy this day!
The tomb is sealed. The waiting begins.
These hours are necessary. But necessary and easy are two very different things. Yet another time in our lives requiring patience. A virtue in thinning supply.
So often in life we plant seeds...of ideas, efforts, and good intentions. With the dirt barely covering, we begin searching for an immediate and predictable harvest.
So like the disciples are we. They followed a teacher and friend, but did not anticipate a Cross, a Death, and a burial.
Teach us Lord, as you did them, the lesson of the tomb. Help us to see that while we tend our seeds, we cannot control when or how the fruit of our efforts will grow. Show us again that patiently and lovingly tending the garden will make it, and us, ready for the Resurrection.
adapted from The Stations of the Cross, Station 14, by Denise Hemrich-Skomer and Fr. Joachim Tyrtania
These words begin John's telling of the Last Supper. In full knowledge of his impending death, Jesus loved. He loved his own.
Jesus' disciples were a band of average people with faults and doubts, needs and egos. The Gospel stories tell of their fears, misunderstandings, mistakes, and in the end, betrayals and denial. Yet still, he loved them to the end.
This speaks to me in two ways.
How do we love our own? Do we focus on the things that bother us? Do we allow judgment and expectation to cloud our interactions?
We don't know when our hour will come. If the past year has taught us anything, it's that life is precious and fleeting. Perhaps these words serve as a gentle reminder to view our own in this world through the lens of love.
I'd also like to think that we are part of this intention. Jesus loves us, his own, to the end. Not in spite of our faults, but because of them. We, like the disciples, are flawed. At times we struggle, we fail, we deny, we betray, but we keep trying. With faith, in hope, we start over each day with new opportunities to be our best in this world.
So on this Holy Thursday, take a moment to center yourself in love.
Love your own and know you are loved...to the end.
I often wonder why this story about Simon is included in three of the four Gospels. It's an oddly specific yet brief mention about a guy who just happened by. Why mention his name? What is the lesson that he brings?
While Jesus' crucifixion was the most famous in history, thousands upon thousands of people were crucified in ancient times. It was considered the most brutal and shameful way to die. For that reason, I imagine that crowds often gathered in a macabre kind of way. While they may have watched and jeered from the safety of a group, it is unlikely anyone wanted to be singled out or called by name. Being identified might make you vulnerable, or considered sympathetic to the accused.
But to be taken hold of and named would make you a witness. And this might be where our lesson lies.
Bearing witness means to acknowledge that something exists or is true. In psychology, it involves the sharing of traumatic experiences in an effort to provide healing.
More simply, bearing witness is to see and be seen.
It takes courage to be a witness. When we watch another person struggle we take on a share of the pain ourselves. This is felt even more strongly when we know and love the one who suffers. But there is also great honor in being a witness. To walk with someone and bear their cross for awhile is a gift of trust both given and received.
Simon may or may not have known Christ. But he forever carried the privilege of being witness to Jesus' final moments in this world.
There are so many hurting right now. The times in which we live make being present for one another harder and harder. Yet there has likely never been a point when the need to be seen has been greater.
"The ultimate touchstone [of friendship] is witness, the privilege of having been seen by someone and the equal privilege of being granted the sight of the essence of another, to have walked with them and to have believed in them, and sometimes just to have accompanied them for however brief a span, on a journey impossible to accomplish alone." ~ David Whyte
Being still does not come naturally to me. I'm trying out my third meditation app. Perhaps it's me, not them.
The biggest hurdle is quieting my mind. I think that's a pretty common issue. My experience is not that unique. Many of the guided meditations I've used invite me to focus on my breath. This gets in my head and leads me to think about breathing.
What I've discovered is the more I think about breathing, the harder it is to breathe. I've almost hyperventilated by trying to breathe. Then today I heard a really profound but simple statement.
The body breathes.
You may be confused by my amazement at such an obvious and simple fact. But what a miracle! The body breathes whether you think about it or (and even more effectively) whether you don't.
Struggle is a by-product of overthinking. Ask any athlete who suddenly decides to focus on a swing or a pitch, a kick or a release. We end up with paralysis by analysis.
I think the same can be true in our faith life. We start the Lenten season with a list of ways we will transform our prayer life. We make intentions to change our habits and behaviors. We put a lot of focus on our own actions. Inevitably life happens and we get sidetracked. We lose steam and feel defeated.
The lesson here is we can't think our way into a better relationship with God. We can't fight our way into holiness. Habits and intentions are tools, and those practices certainly offer opportunities for growth. But in the end, the more we think about God, the harder it can be to feel and truly know God. In stillness, comes a profound insight.
Spirit breathes.
In us, through us, all the time...Spirit breathes. We have only to keep still.
Novelty is dependent on the perspective of the viewer. One can look out the same window everyday for a lifetime and see either an unchanging view or an unfolding story.
So how do you find the right mindset? By zooming out, you can observe the great shapes that define a space. The general landscape, the ups and downs, the lights and darks. This dualism of one extreme or the other is how we sense our boundaries and experience our limits.
But if we live only in the dark and light realm of vision, we will become bored, rigid, too hardened. We won't recognize the subtle nuance that softens an edge and shadows a corner.
In the middle are thousands, millions, billions of shades. One is not hard or soft, dark or light...but both.
This is a zooming in, where the form becomes unrecognizable from the texture that infuses it. The colors blend and bend and fuse to shades and hues unnamed. Here, in the minutia we learn that we are not one or the other but all and whole and one.
This is a wonderful place. This is a wonderful life. This is a wonderful day.
I have seen it many times and never. Let me bask in its beauty once and always.
Amen.
The Anointing at Bethany begins the Lectionary reading for Palm Sunday. It's a small story at the beginning of a very long Gospel. While I remember well the telling of Jesus' Passion and Death, I mostly recall this first scene as flickers of song from an Andrew Lloyd Weber musical.
Today, I notice the woman, her alabaster jar, and a costly spikenard perfume.
This woman, some consider Mary Magdalene, others Lazarus' sister, performed a ritual act. With precious oil she anointed Jesus' head and feet, defining her love and devotion. But the results of this act likely lingered far longer.
Still used today, spikenard is the root of an Indian plant that grows primarily in the Himalayan mountains. The oil derived from its root has been used for medicine, incense, and perfume. It has a long history of being highly valued. Spikenard was an expensive oil. The cost for the anointing described in this passage would be equivalent to around $12,000 today. A generous offering indeed.
But there is something even more interesting about this oil and its mention here. Spikenard has a strong scent. It clings to the skin and hair continuing to give its aroma long after it has been applied. Jesus tells his disciples that this woman has done a good thing for him.
She has done what she could do. She has anticipated anointing my body for burial ~Mark 14:8
The oil the woman used to anoint his head and feet would have lingered on Christ's skin for the next several days. As Jesus was arrested, as he was beaten, as he was crucified, and as he died, wisps of compassion from this moment would have overcome him. Each turn of his head, each fall to the ground a memory. A drop of balm for every step. A reminder he was loved, a comfort he was not alone.
For us, perhaps a lesson. Share with abandon. Offer mercy, comfort, compassion, concern. Don't tally the costs. Do what you can do. Anticipate the needs of another.
Our actions linger, often in ways we could not know and will never fully understand.
Tomorrow is Palm Sunday, the start of Holy Week. During these days, we walk with Jesus through the final moments of his life on earth. Each year, I try to find new and different ways to approach this time.
It occurred to me that this will be our second journey through a Holy Week in this pandemic. Last year we had just taken our first steps. This year we are miles beyond with still a distance to go. So what would I have wanted to tell the me of 2020 on the day before Palm Sunday? What wisdom from this year would I give?
My advice would be simple...notice.
In the aftermath of big life events, whether tragic or joyful, I believe we share a nearly universal response--I wish I had paid attention. I wish I had noticed all that was happening around me.
For this Holy Week, I invite you to notice.
Key in on a word or phrase in Scripture that has never struck you before. Slow your steps and recognize the particular color of the sky or the smell of the budding trees. Listen for the emotion in a friend's voice. Feel the texture of a loved one's hand. Savor the taste of your daily meals. Rest in the quiet of morning before dawn.
In whatever way this word speaks to you in your life this week, notice.
I am enough.
Some very wise friends of mine have made this their mantra. If you knew them, you might be surprised that they would need to say these words aloud. To mark the phrase as a real and present reminder. Why? Because these friends are amazing. And yet, they still need to be reminded that they are enough.
I don't think they are unique in this need. In fact, I imagine that many of us suffer from a kind of imposter syndrome. We struggle in our work, our relationships, our own private thoughts to believe that who we are is enough.
Perhaps this is a by-product of our consumer culture. Maybe it's some deeply planted seed that stems from generations of thought. It could be social pressures or family trauma. Perhaps it's all of these and none of these at the same time.
What we have decided, my friends and I, is that we may not be able to root out the cause but we can most definitely influence the effect.
We build each other up. We give witness to one another's pain and we celebrate one another's joy. We don't try to solve problems as much as honor that the burden exists. Mostly, we remind one another, again and again, that each of us is enough.
If you need to hear it today, let me be that friend for you.
You. Are. Enough.
This struck me.
It's interesting, in a sad kind of way, that kindness has to be singled out as a skill. Even more upsetting is that it's a skill not commonly valued. I'm aware of the well-known adages about nice people finishing last and the need to be ruthless to get ahead. Still it baffles me that a behavior taught and rewarded in Kindergarten is not prized past the age of 25. While the article did focus on the benefits kindness can bring to the workplace, the tag line read, "Take the counterintuitive approach to business success."
This got me thinking about the power of kindness. In recent years, a kindness movement has swept around the world. Nonprofits provide free educational materials on kindness, while researchers and doctors study its effects on our mood and overall health. The results show that being kind makes us happier, decreases our blood pressure, lowers cortisol and increases our self-esteem, empathy, and compassion.
Kindess isn't a soft skill, it's a super power!
I believe being kind has been minimized because it's often considered weak. On the contrary, being kind takes courage. Kindness involves being vulnerable. Being kind means leaving the safety and security of self to seek a genuine connection with someone else. It leaves us open to misunderstanding and rejection.
But our bravery comes with a reward of its own. Kindness is contagious. Scientists note that kindness creates a kind of ripple effect spreading outward. Our small gesture may impact others far removed in ways we will never fully know.
Not bad for a soft skill not generally prized. Seems to me it deserves a blue ribbon!
In a world where you can be anything...be kind. ~Unknown
*Sabin, Sara. "Kindness can get you ahead." Chicago Tribune. 22 March 2021, Section 2, p.1.
I love to hear people tell me their stories. What makes them who they are? What experiences brought them to this particular place in time and space? Who are the people in their family? What trials did they encounter? No matter the situation, I have never been bored by another's life story, even when they themselves believed it to be unremarkable.
Every life holds a lesson. Every story, a reason someone held as hope for another day. It is within these moments that we see the hand of God.
Sometimes faith may seem distant and formal. But God is not found only within the walls of a cathedral or the pages of a holy text. God is written in the hearts and lives of us all. By sharing our stories, we give witness.
Be willing to listen. Recognize the spark in another that moves and catches fire as they share with you their stories. This spark is Spirit.
Be ready to give reason for your hope. Your moments matter. For another, your story may be the witness of God they so desperately need.
Stories are light. Light is precious in a world so dark." ~Kate DiCamillo, The Tale of Despereaux
This verse seems written for our present moment. I feel the first few words in every cell of my being.
My patience is truly worn out by the journey.
So much is said to be on the cusp of change. News stories predict an end in sight. There are lights in the proverbial tunnels. But I'm still standing on the far end and squinting for that glow. My ability to keep calm in the midst of disappointment, distress, and suffering is understandably wearing thin.
"Waiting and hoping is a hard thing to do when you've already been waiting and hoping for almost as long as you can bear it." ~Jenny Nimmo, Charlie Bone and the Time TwisterScience tells us that patience is modifiable. We can build it like a muscle. Reframing situations to find a different way of seeing things, practicing mindfulness to ground ourselves, and being grateful are exercises to try.
But in this particular moment, standing empty and worn out, we could benefit by adding the spiritual aspect of patience to the equation.
Patience is one of the fruits of the Holy Spirit. It's a visible act, an observable behavior that results from allowing the grace of Spirit to be effective in us. In other words, we aren't in this patience thing alone.
Waiting with grace enables us to live in this world and still have hope. Spirit makes possible what is impossible on our own. So as we wind through what we hope will be the final days of this pandemic journey, consider asking yourself:
I hope you choose patience. Even when you are overwhelmed by unknowns. When someone cannot give you answers, when you begin to wonder why you're here, when you simply want to give up: be patient. ~Kirsten Robinson, Evergreen
Prayer, quiet, connection, generosity are a few we have named and explored.
Today we knock on another...gratitude.
Gratitude has long been known to have positive effects on our lives. Being thankful not only improves our mood, it actually improves our brain functioning. Grateful people are happier people.
Ironically, when things are going well and gratitude should come easily, we tend not to make it a habit. We absorb blessings barely aware of the life-giving nourishment they provide. It's often when hardship comes that we recognize our need. In our darkness, we look for light.
By seeking, we find awareness that life, in its many ups and downs, is a gift in itself. We come to discover that gifts are present within our struggles and pain.
How can we make gratitude a way of life?
Gratitude is action. It's naming blessings and saying thank you.
Gratitude is awareness. It's noticing gifts and feeling grateful.
Gratitude is being. It's living with intention and experiencing God's abundant generosity.
Gratitude is expectation. It's believing that even those people, places, and things which once blocked our path have purpose and meaning for our journey.
Fear and anxiety never totally leave us. But slowly they lose their domination as a deeper and more central experience begins to present itself. It is the experience of gratitude...Thus gratitude becomes a quality of our hearts that allows us to live joyfully and peacefully even though our struggles continue. ~Henri Nouwen
But...neither of those statements is really true. Even in my irritated, frustrated, sassy moments, I am completely and entirely myself.
I am human.
And so are you.
As humans, we have a range of emotions and moods. We have ups and downs. This admission is not an excuse to make those around us miserable. But it is valid and necessary to recognize that some minutes, hours, days, or more, we will likely be less than joyful.
The Gospel in today's Lectionary is beautifully instructive of this aspect of humanity. I often feel that we don't spend enough (or maybe any) time meditating on Christ's human side. After all, he was both human and divine.
In the story of Lazarus, Jesus experiences a range of emotions.
The one most often noted is expressed in the verse, And Jesus wept. This is deeply powerful. I have known this sadness and despair. In the loss of a loved one, the loss of a dream, the loss of an opportunity--I have wept.
Twice Jesus is described as perturbed. Jesus was anxious, concerned, and troubled. I have known this unease, this fear and frustration. In the moments of not knowing, in the waiting, in the disappointments, in the unmet expectations--I have been perturbed.
Continually those gathered, including Lazarus' sisters, question Jesus and misunderstand him. His tone suggests a very human frustration. Do you believe this? Did I not tell you...? Even in his prayer, And Jesus raised his eyes and said, "Father, I thank you for hearing me. I know that you always hear me; but because of the crowd here I have said this, that they may believe that you sent me."* I have known this frustration. In the building of tensions, the shortness of deadlines, the interruptions, the miscommunications--I have been frustrated.
We can learn from Jesus' human nature. There is no shame in our sadness, our anxiety, or our frustrations. Denying these parts of ourselves only causes further dis-ease.
Let's embrace who we are...completely and entirely.
I am human.
And so are you.
*from John 11:33–44
When life gets hard, it's natural to feel the urge to run. Avoiding sorrow, grief, confrontation may seem like the best, if not the easiest response. But there is a dirty little secret that we must face when we choose to look the other way.
Denial is addictive.
Addiction of any kind invariably numbs us to pain, anger, confusion, and distress. Unfortunately, it also prevents us from fully feeling satisfaction and joy. Perhaps most disturbing, it dulls our minds making healing and truth-seeking more difficult, if not impossible.
The world has been ripe for denial this past year. The pandemic is only one of many social and cultural issues that demand our full attention. Now is not the time to feel only vaguely.
Now is the time to stay open.
Jesus did not avoid the suffering of the Garden. He returned to pray again and again, asking God to help him bear the burden that was to come.
We are approaching a tipping point. The coming days and weeks will invite us to put into action the lessons we have learned from the long days of isolation.
We can remain in denial, allowing ourselves to slip back into familiar habits and patterns of behavior.
Or we can enter fully into the mess with our hearts and minds open. By using our creativity, our intellect, our strength, and our faith, together we can seek out new ways to heal and grow.
Joy and sorrow both strike us at the core. Stay open to both.
I beg you to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer. ~Rainer Maria Rilke
But what if networking's greatest benefits were something else entirely?
Networking is not "What can I take from you?" or "What can you give me?" Networking is a genuine act of generosity built upon "What can I offer you?" ~Alaina G. Levine*
The best networking is an act of generosity. We don't need to have lots of possessions or money to be generous. To be truly generous requires a spirit of abundance. A belief that we are not in competition for goodness and kindness and compassion. Wanting the best for others, showing love and care, sharing freely our thoughts and talents does not mean there is less for us. In fact, quite the opposite is true.
Perhaps one of the bright lights from this pandemic will be the realization that we are better together, helping one another get through the day in whatever small but significant ways possible.
It takes courage to be generous. Generosity is an act of trust. Trust that God will provide. Trust that you will have enough and that you are enough.
Consider networking with generosity in mind. While receiving is wonderful, giving generously is life-changing.
Ask yourself today, what do I have to offer? Then trust that there will be enough.
"That's a truth as old as time. Because, like all the best things in life, the more you give, the more you have. That's true of trust and friendship, and it's true of peace." ~Rutger Bregman, Humankind
* "How to network during challenging times" Science Magazine, Sept. 8, 2020
Jesus invited.
Again and again he brought people together. He dined with outcasts, showed compassion for those that others judged unworthy.
Jesus received.
On more than one occasion, he was questioned about the company he kept. He was reprimanded and mocked. He taught by example.
Jesus welcomed.
He ministered through mercy. Jesus understood what it feels like to be abandoned.
Jesus welcomed all.
One of the most beautiful petitions I've ever heard goes like this, "We pray for those whose faith is known to God alone."
Does this not describe us all?
Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, [then] I will enter his house and dine with him, and he with me. ~Revelation 3:20
"First, my child," said the Old Turtle, "remember that there are truths all around us, and within us. They twinkle in the night sky and bloom upon the earth. They fall upon us every day, silent as the snow and gentle as the rain. The people, clutching their one truth, forget that it is part of all the small and lovely truths of life.'"
~Douglas Wood, Old Turtle and the Broken Truth
Doing some research, I learned that the dough didn't want to be worked. It wanted to rest. It was perfectly able to deal with those lumps on its own. My job wasn't to muscle them out, my job was to have faith in the process.
Mix the ingredients. Place the sticky, lumpy dough in a bowl. Cover and wait.
While things are noticeablely changing after the first rise, it's not done yet. Don't be impatient. Now is not the time for a heavy hand. Four simple pulls and turns, then back into the bowl. Rise and repeat.
What resulted was nothing short of amazing! After the final rise, a beautiful, elastic, smooth dough appeared. The most effort required of me was in the waiting.
I've come to believe life is a lot like making bread. The more I fight, wrestle, and push my way through, the tougher things get.
Change is part of life. At times, change seems to be most of life. That feels especially hard for those of us who like to be in control of things. While my first instinct is to add more effort, what might really be required is time and rest.
If something has you feeling frustrated, on edge, anxious, ask yourself:
Might it be time to let this burden rest for awhile?
Have I done all I am able to do?
If so, set it aside.
Have faith that God is working out the lumps. You might be surprised at how things look when you return.
Let nothing upset you;Let nothing frighten you.Everything is changing;God alone is changeless.Patience attains the goal.Who has God lacks nothing;God alone fills every need.~Saint Teresa of Avila
The Gospel from today's Lectionary tells the story of Jesus healing the man born blind. This man lived his whole life one way. He surely struggled but had also adapted to his circumstances. On a chance encounter with Christ, in one moment of time, his world was suddenly different.
As Jesus passed by he saw a man blind from birth. He spat on the ground and made clay with the saliva, and smeared the clay on his eyes, and said to him, "Go wash in the Pool of Siloam" (which means Sent). So he went and washed, and came back able to see. ~John 9:1, 6–8
This pandemic was an unexpected storm in our lives. Our "normal" routines, expectations, and relationships were completely wiped out in what felt like a single moment of time. Suddenly everything was different. I think we've all done some soul searching over the past year. If you're like me, you've been surprised by how much you can live without and still keep going.
Who knows what "normal" will look like going forward. What I do think is that the restrictions we have all lived under will begin to peel away quickly. We will be left standing and asking ourselves--what do I do now? Who am I now? What parts of me are left after so much was taken away?
This time will be scary. I venture to guess it may be as anxiety-producing as the beginning of the pandemic. The world will suddenly be different...again.
"Adversity is like a strong wind. It tears away from us all but the things that cannot be torn, so that we see ourselves as we really are." ~Arthur Golden
I encourage you not to let this opportunity pass unnoticed. Don't slide back into what feels like "normal." When you are once again able to see and be in the world, look at who you've become, who you really are.
Prayer usually involves us talking to or thinking about God. But prayer should be more than just an exercise of the mind.
If we only speak to God, our relationship is defined by us posing questions, asking for guidance, requesting help. We then, quite naturally, wait for answers, advice, and solutions. Our expectations are rooted in human experience. But God's ways are not our ways. Sometimes responses do not come in the forms we want.
If we only think about God, our relationship is defined by mental work. It leads us to analyze God, study God, and categorize God's actions. Our relationship becomes "effort-full," a set of tasks to be accomplished.
There is a place for speaking in prayer. There is a place for thinking in prayer. But there is also a need for simply being in prayer.
To rest in God amid our daily struggle is prayer in itself.
This might take the form of simply sitting in silence, breathing in love, breathing out love. Smiling while doing the dishes. Sending love to other drivers in traffic. Being extra patient with a sibling, spouse, co-worker or friend. Making the details of your day into prayer by intentionally offering them to God as such.
Not trying too hard. Just letting yourself be seen. This can be prayer enough.
Rejoice always. Pray without ceasing. In all circumstances, give thanks, for this is the will of God for you in Christ Jesus. ~ 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18
your kingdom come.Give us each day our daily breadand forgive us our sinsfor we ourselves forgive everyone in debt to us,and do not subject us to the final test."
Sometimes words fail me.
I want to comfort a friend. I need to say I'm sorry. I'm desperate to convey my love. I long to make you smile.
But words fail me.
Luckily, I don't need to figure it out alone. I can look to others for ideas and wisdom. Finding the perfect quote, the best movie line, the most heart-wrenching poem, the spot-on GIF, often bridges the gap between intention and my own power to explain.
This is how I think about traditional or formal prayer.
Traditional prayers are those we may memorize or "take to heart." The Lord's Prayer comes from Jesus in Scripture. Other prayers were written by saints and holy people throughout time. Each of these speaks to the writer's own beautiful and meaningful God experience. As I pray their words, I find comfort for my own needs or depth to my own delight.
Knowing these prayers have crossed the lips of countless others for many generations reminds me that I am not alone. The universality of this human experience gives me perspective on my own needs, and hopes, and fears. We all seek comfort, express anger, cry out in pain, and burst with joy.
Nothing replaces a personal relationship with God. Speaking my heart will always be a desired form of prayer.
But when words fail me, and even sometimes when they don't, traditional prayer is a beautiful bridge.
The Prayer of Saint Francis
"Prayer fastens the soul to God."~Julian of Norwich
Think of any relationship in life you value. What makes it strong? Likely you will find a combination of time, communication, and openness. The same is true of our relationship with God. Prayer is one way we deepen this connection.
Here's a final idea for how to personalize your experience with Lectio Divina.
Select a passage from the Bible. Begin with a centering prayer like, "Spirit guide my mind and heart as I read the Word of God."
Read the passage and imagine yourself as one of the people in the text. You might also consider yourself as a bystander or witness to what is happening in the passage. Sit with the experience for a time.
Reflect on these questions:
"Prayer is nothing else than being on terms of friendship with God." ~Teresa of Avila
Exercise is personal.
We each have different preferences and they change throughout our lives. Sometimes we choose no exercise at all.
Exercise can be flexible.
Have you ever considered the same might be true about prayer?
One size doesn't fit all, especially at all points in life. Taking time to consider where you are with your prayer life (or where you're not) can be powerful. Trying new and different forms of prayer can also be interesting, maybe even life-changing.
Lectio Divina has many different forms. The following version draws a bit more on your imagination.
Select a small section of Scripture or sacred text. Begin with an opening prayer. It might be as simple as saying, "God, please open my heart to your words."
New experiences are not always comfortable. Consider trying these forms, even if you are not drawn to them by explanation alone.
Remember, prayer is personal.
Prayer can be flexible.
"We speak to God when we pray; we listen to Him when we read the Scriptures." ~Saint Ambrose
As an adult, I have often relied on Scripture for targeted guidance. I would do a kind of "word search" for topics like worry, fear, patience, peace.
Then I came across the following in a book I was reading:
"Not what we want to pray is important, but what God wants us to pray...The richness of the Word of God ought to determine our prayer, not the poverty of our heart. ~Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Psalms
This quote gave me pause. I still believe there is value in searching Scripture for words to soothe your soul in times of need, but I also want inspiration for what I don't yet know. I long for less of my intention and more of God's.
Enter Lectio Divina.
Lectio Divina means divine reading. It's a practice rooted in the Benedictine tradition combining slow, meditative reading of biblical or sacred text with contemplation and silent prayer. It's meant to draw us into a personal relationship with God and transform us by his love
Traditionally, the four movements of Lectio Divina are:
This is the most formal and traditional version of this form of prayer. There are many variations. I will share some others in the coming days.
"Call to me, and I will answer you; I will tell you great things beyond the realm of your knowledge." Jeremiah 33:3
paths are made by walking." ~Antonio Machado
The weather in the Midwest is warming with sunny mornings and melting snow. I am longing for walks that don't require layers of clothing and slippery sidewalks.
I need to be filled.
I read once a book about the ancient practice of Quigong breathing. One exercise, known as tree breathing, invites us to walk in nature and sense the energy present in Creation. We walk with an intention of respect, kindness, and gratitude.
"Never take from nature; rather, accept her gifts and recognize yourself as part of her world." ~The Way of Quigong
I have felt this connection many times. On more than one occasion I've gone into nature empty and been gifted with inspiration, healing, insight, and joy.
Spirit is alive in nature.
What a better cathedral to pray in than the one God made! A simple walk in your neighborhood can reveal a trove of blessings. The grass greening only days after being freed from inches of snow and ice. The birds once again filling the quiet with their songs. Squirrels racing to recover lost treasure buried last fall. And the sun, the glorious warmth of the sun.
If you are able, find your way outside today. Pray a prayer of praise with your whole being as you soak in Spirit and recognize yourself as part of God's beautiful, wonderful world.
However, around Christmas, I found myself full of anxiety. I was trying to make gifts for friends, and I was running out of time. Quickening my pace resulted in mistakes, dropped stitches, and frustration. What was once enjoyable became a burden, another thing to do.
Some time later, I stumbled across a book called Slow Knitting.
"The concept of slow knitting encourages us to stop in our tracks, take a breather from our busy lives, and reevaluate what we consume, what we make."
This made sense! Why turn my beloved hobby into another box I needed to check off a list? I wanted to savor the experience.
This got me thinking about other parts of my life that I rush through, fail to really experience. It made me wonder, what would happen if I tried to practice, Slow Prayer?
I know I am guilty of rushing my way through prayers I know by heart. I have definitely offered up hurried spontaneous prayer in times of worry or need. I've distractedly read my Bible, and I have lost track of Hail Marys while speeding through a decade of the Rosary.
I want to try something new. I want to savor the experience.
If you like, join me. Here are a few ideas. I'll add more in the next few weeks. Share any you find.
Sit with God in silence for a period of time. Read and reread the same passage from the Bible. Pray the words of a well-known prayer, but consider each word as if hearing it for the first time. Feel your prayer beads slip through your fingers, lingering on the words that accompany their soothing, smooth texture.
Pray slowly.
Stop in your tracks, take a breather from your busy life.
Reevaluate what you give, what you receive.
This parable speaks to me as a story of forgiveness, in three parts.
The son...
Being forgiven can feel like a soothing balm, but only if we allow it to be applied. To accept forgiveness, we must first forgive ourselves.
"Forgiving ourselves is one of the hardest parts of living free and well. We know what our secrets are; we know everything we have done and everything we have left undone. When we can't forgive ourselves, we stay sick, and those things keep us living in shame." ~Becca Stevens, Love Heals
Shame is not fruitful ground. We won't grow if rooted there. But forgiveness is nurturing. Forgiveness helps us heal and expands our capacity to show compassion for others. We are kinder and more merciful for having received mercy ourselves.
The brother...
We often hold our grudges tightly. But joy cannot coexist with resentment. Compassion doesn't flow from judgment.
"Put on then, as God's chosen ones, holy and beloved, heartfelt compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience, bearing with one another and forgiving one another, if one has a grievance against another; as the Lord has forgiven you, so must you also do." ~Colossians 3:12–13
Bearing with one another indicates that sometimes relationships are hard. We hurt and we get hurt. Holding these hurts in our heart, letting them stew and smolder, slowly poisons us from the inside out.
Share your grievance. God never asks us to bury our pain or discount our experience. Be open and honest with the one who wounded you. Then forgive. With that forgiveness let the burden go. For only from forgiveness and release will true healing come.
The father...Our Father
The father loves with abandon and forgives without strings. God's compassion and mercy are endless. There is no offense we have committed that he will hold against us, if we only seek to be forgiven.
God waits. God hopes. God knows us, all parts of us. And God loves us still.
"Everything is prelude, stepping stone, and promise." ~Hildegard of Bingen
I recently came across the term "learned optimism." I found this concept intriguing because in the habitat of my mind, optimism is not a creature that naturally resides. I often expect the worst.
But I like the idea that I can learn this way of being.
I am a work in progress.
It's good to remind myself that I never stop becoming. Each day truly is a prelude, a promise. It can be easy to forget this simple lesson. Even if I am unable to change my circumstances, I can change my perspective. I can learn to see things through new eyes.
Nothing is static. Spirit is moving.
Prelude, stepping stone... promise.
"But this I will call to mind;
therefore I will hope:
The Lord's acts of mercy are not exhausted,
his compassion in not spent;
They are renewed each morning--
great is your faithfulness!
The Lord is my portion, I tell myself,
therefore I will hope in him."Lamentations 3:21–24
A vaccine appointment? Visits with friends and family? Traveling? Worshipping together in large groups? Enjoying gatherings and parties?
Certainly it is all of these things. Maybe it is something much more.
There is a loss of innocence we are all experiencing. Having to consider
things that came effortlessly before. I think I recognize that there will be a new "normal." Perhaps I'm waiting for my head and heart to catch up with that reality.
Either way, sitting here in the middle-ness of whatever place we wait, I search for words of wisdom to calm the worry.
Sometimes I stumble upon ones that feel like a gift.
"The same everlasting Father who cares for you today will care for you tomorrow and every day. Either he will shield you from suffering or give you unfailing strength to bear it. Be at peace then and put aside all anxious thoughts and imaginings." ~ Saint Francis de Sales
Be at peace...in the middle, as we wait.
Letting go is hard.
Even if what we are holding onto is painful. Letting go takes practice.
In the Spiritual Exercises, a form of prayer developed by Saint Ignatius of Loyola, one of the first lessons asks us to observe our attachments. Like the word implies, attachments are things we cling to. These might be things we love and desire very strongly. Or things that cause us discomfort, pain, and anger.
Whether positive or negative, when attachments get out of balance, they can become a barrier to our relationship with God.
"If we feel a disorder in our attachment...we should take it to the Lord and pray insistently to be given the grace to free ourselves from such disorder. What we want above all is the ability to respond freely to God..." ~ from the Spiritual Exercises
If you are feeling stuck, stop to consider what you might be clinging to that has disordered your life.
Take a deep breath and ask God to give you the grace to free yourself.
Remember, your letting go muscle may not be strong enough to release it on the first try.
That's okay. Letting go takes practice.
Pray insistently and God will give you the grace to be free.
"Let us rid ourselves of every burden and sin that clings to us and persevere in running the race that lies before us while keeping our eyes fixed on Jesus, the leader and perfecter of faith." ~ Hebrews 12:1–2
"Days pass, and the years vanish, and we walk sightless among miracles."
This is the first line of a passage from the Jewish Sabbath Prayer Book. It strikes me because lately I find myself noticing how quickly times seems to pass.
This has been simultaneously the fastest and slowest year of my life. I've heard people say that as you get older, time flies. One theory is that we lack an ability to see the "newness" of our surroundings. We become numb.
Time doesn't change. Our world doesn't change. We change.
"We walk sightless among miracles."
The rest of this passage continues as prayer, asking God to open us to these miracles.
"Fill our eyes with seeing and our minds with knowing. Let there be moments when your Presence, like lightening, illumines the darkness in which we walk. Help us to see, wherever we gaze, that the bush burns unconsumed. And we, clay touched by God, will reach out for holiness and exclaim in wonder, 'How filled with awe is this place...'" ~passage from the Jewish Sabbath Prayer Book
Lord, help see. Give me the presence to be present.
This week, the rover sent back audio of Martian wind and high-definition, color images that have been stitched together to form a 360-degree panorama of the planet's surface.
I am in awe.
"There is no true science which does not emanate from the mysterious. Every thinking person must be filled with wonder and awe just by looking up at the stars." ~Albert Einstein
Awe strikes us with a mixture of amazement and fear. It changes our perspective allowing us to see things in a completely new light.
It is awe that Peter likely feels standing on a mountain watching Jesus transfigured. In dazzling light, Peter glimpses for a moment his friend and teacher as Son of God. (Mark 9:2–8)
We are humbled by awe, recognizing our smallness within a vast universe. The feeling can hit while standing on a mountaintop or noticing the vivid orange and pink of a sunset. It may sweep through you with the sound of waves crashing or strike in the perfect pitch of a soprano's voice. You may be mesmerized by the delicate wings of bird in flight or get lost in the brushstrokes of painting.
Awe moments are God moments.
It's fitting that a new area of science is being devoted to the study of awe. What a perfect and necessary topic to investigate as we humans become increasingly assured that we hold the world in our hands.
Look for opportunities to explore feelings of awe. Don't lose sight of the magnificence around you. Be open to seeing something in a new and dazzling light.
Your God moment awaits.
"True transformation demands that we shed ourselves as the central reference point." Richard Rohr
For more reading on the science of awe, check out these articles:
Today is a new day, a new month, a new beginning.
Beginnings are significant. They spark in us feelings of hope and possibility.
But beginnings can also be scary. Beginnings inevitably mean leaving something behind.
I believe this is the intention of Lent.
We feel the hope and possibility of living a more authentic life. We sense the closeness we could feel to God and one another if we were able to break free.
But beginnings are scary.
Take this first day of March, this temporal landmark, to check in. Reaffirm the commitment to your Lenten promises. Go deeper. Don't be afraid.
What have I learned about myself?
How have I changed since I started this journey?
Is there any part of myself that feels false in this moment?
What would change if I let that part of me go?
What is holding me back from a deeper relationship with God?
Starting today, what can I do to make the most of these next few weeks of Lent?
"What can we gain by sailing to the moon if we are not able to cross the abyss that separates us from ourselves? This is the most important of all voyages of discovery, and without it all the rest are not only useless but disastrous." ~ Thomas Merton, The Wisdom of the Desert
