Awe Moments

Last week, NASA landed the Perseverance rover on Mars. 

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:

Eight Reasons Why Awe Makes Your Life Better

How the Science of Awe Shaped Pixar's "Soul" 

March On

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. 

Lent is a time of cutting through the layers we have added over the past year. Detaching ourselves from what we've built for the world, to impress, to fit in, to hide behind. The easy stuff falls away first. Now we encounter the ties we cling to more tightly. 

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

Surrender

"Amen, amen, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains just a grain of wheat; but if it dies, it produces much fruit."        

                                                    John 12:27

Entering the Second Sunday of Lent, I am taking a moment to reflect.  I have been consistent. I'm digging deep. I'm noticing the discomfort and trying to be present. 

But...I'm starting to feel twinges of resistance. 

Change is hard. The process of change is even harder, primarily because it involves giving up long held habits (or lack of habits.) 

The belief that change requires control is, in my opinion, a myth. To really transform means giving up the need to control. Control is rooted in fear. It's an illusion we cling to because we are attached to a particular outcome. The process of becoming, of dying in order to produce much fruit, is about surrender.

"Night, we cannot stop it, or hasten it; it just comes, and teaches us every twenty-four hours that we are not in complete control." ~Richard Rohr

Surrender is an exercise in faith. It's trusting that whatever the outcome, God will provide for the journey. Don't fear the resistance. Lean in, and keep going. 

"Every time we attempt to avoid a situation, we only reduce our opportunity to grow, to learn from the journey." ~Alexander Shaia

Find Your Flock

Have you ever seen a murmuration? It's a phenomenon that occurs when starlings fly in coordinated patterns. Hundreds of birds move in beautiful, seemingly choreographed formations. Scientists who have studied this spectacle believe it is intended to protect the birds from predators by making it more difficult to single out individual birds for attack. 

How do all these tiny creatures make moment-to-moment adjustments in flight? Researchers have found that each bird is communicating with only six or seven of its closest "neighbors." This outreach is then magnified across the entire flock. A mighty feat accomplished by small, seemingly inconsequential connections.

"Flocks of starlings exhibit a remarkable ability to maintain cohesion as a group in highly uncertain environments and with limited, noisy information." ~ Study on Starling Flock Networks

A devastating impact of the pandemic has been our isolation. We are living in highly uncertain times and often surrounded by "limited, noisy information." It seems to me that we can learn some powerful lessons from the starlings. 

Don't fly alone. Check in with family members, friends, neighbors, co-workers. Build a "neighborhood" around yourself.

It's not about the numbers. Your group doesn't need to be huge to make an impact on your well-being. No need to get stuck trying to reconnect with every person you've lost touch with. Pick one, or two, or seven. The number isn't important, the interaction is what matters. 

Connection creates perspective. The more we focus inward, the less objective we are about our own problems and the problems of the world. Connecting with others helps us navigate the noise and uncertainty with some healthy perspective. Simply talking to someone else about what is on your mind can significantly lower your stress and brighten your mood. 

Take a little time this weekend to find your flock.

"Community is the oldest form of healing in the world. It is the entity that holds us up and holds us accountable." ~ Becca Stevens, Find Your Way Home

Peace I Leave With You

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give it to you. Do not let your hearts be troubled or afraid. ~ John 14:27

Can we have peace in the midst of discomfort? 

Peace comes with presence. Think about times when you have felt most anxious. Where was the seed of that anxiety? It is likely you will trace it back to your mind's attempt to place you in the space between now and what's to come. Anxiety is a future-oriented emotion. 

The displacement that anxiety brings makes it particularly suited for times of discomfort. When I'm uncomfortable with what's going on, I want out.  

Context is everything. The Scripture verse above comes from the Last Supper discourses. Jesus knew discomfort was coming for himself and his disciples. His gift--the balm he offered to soothe them in the pain that was near--was peace. Not the world's peace, but Spirit.

Spirit is fire and breath and wind moving in us and through us in this moment and the next and the next. When we let go of fear and allow ourselves to be, Spirit brings us peace--even in the discomfort. 

"Ultimately, we have just one moral duty: to reclaim large areas of peace in ourselves, more and more peace, and to reflect it toward others. And the more peace there is in us, the more peace there will also be in our troubled world."    ~Etty Hillesum, An Interrupted Life

Collective Grief

Spirit is among us. We are all connected by Spirit. Some may call it energy, others, life force. No matter the name, there is a thread that binds us all. 

You are not alone.

Because of that interconnectedness, we are in a period of collective grief.

"The US death toll is so staggering that a top health researcher says it is hard to imagine an American who hasn't lost a relative or doesn't know someone who died. The virus has reached into all corners of the country and communities of every size."

                       Geller, Adam. "500,000." Chicago Tribune, 23 February, 2021, p. A1. 

This pain has impacted each of us in some way. Even our healers are hurting. For this reason, it is critical that we do not turn away from this trauma. Doing so will make us numb. 

You are not alone.

Grieving is active. It allows us to keep moving so we don't get stuck in the sorrow. 

But grieving is profoundly uncomfortable. We will need to learn, at least for awhile, to be with the discomfort. 

Still...you are not alone.

If you are in a place of strength today, reach out. Call a friend or family member for no particular reason. Send someone a text, an email, or a real-life handwritten letter. Say a prayer. 

If your heart is aching today, don't shut down. Don't give up. Reach out. Ask for help. Close your eyes, take the deepest breath you have taken all day. Feel others who are united with you. Say a prayer.

...you are not alone.

On Becoming

 

"Every creature is a word of God and a book about God." 

                                Meister Eckhart

Lent is a season of contemplation. I find it no accident that it's also a season of change, of turning. We move from winter to spring, death to new life. This is a time of revelation. 

Revelation isn't always easy and certainly not always pleasant. Sometimes what is revealed about me doesn't make me feel particularly proud. I turn a corner and run into jealousy, envy, anger, judgment. How could I be a book about God when these characters get to play a role? 

The good news is that we are in a constant state of becoming. Our stories are still being told and we are part of the telling. Believe in your possibilities, pick up your pen, and write your next page. 

                "Yes, it could be that I am a tiny piece 

                        of God, and

                    each of you too, or at least 

                        of his intention and his hope."

                                Mary Oliver, "At the River Clarion"

Holy Science

God said: "This is the sign that I am giving for all ages to come, of the covenant between me and you and every living creature with you: I set my bow in the clouds to serve as a sign of the covenant between me and the earth. When I bring clouds over the earth, and the bow appears in the clouds, I will recall the covenant I have made between me and you and all living beings..."                                            Genesis 9:12–15

A rainbow isn't really a "thing" and it doesn't exist in a particular "place." It is an optical phenomenon that appears when sunlight and atmospheric conditions are just right--and the viewer's position is just right to see it.     What Causes Rainbows? USA.gov

I find the connection between these two excerpts amazing. Faith and science in a kind of beautiful union. How, you might ask? When I read the Scripture verse, my first reaction was, yes--I am definitely feeling the weight of those clouds, Lord. Where are all the rainbows? 

The second quote set me back initially. I was somewhat offended by the harshness of the first line. Rainbows aren't a "thing?" Yikes. Then I sat with it for a bit and a sweet mixing of the two passages began to brew.

In Genesis, God speaks of a covenant. While some think of this as "God's promise," a covenant is actually an agreement. What does an agreement require? Two or more parties... The covenant between God and me and every living creature means I have some responsibility. In other words, I probably shouldn't be waiting around, complaining about clouds, and passively wishing for a rainbow. 

Enter science. A rainbow isn't a "thing" and it doesn't exist in a particular "place." Translation: I can't order one and I can't tell you where one is going to show up. It isn't something physical that I can own or keep. 

A rainbow appears when conditions are just right--and the viewer's position is just right to see it. 

Things are hard right now. Many people are suffering. But that doesn't mean God has abandoned us. 

I believe God is setting rainbows in the clouds. My part of the covenant is to position myself to see them. 

Rainbows don't exist in a particular "place"... they exist in all places. Take a moment today to find a rainbow in your world. Then savor it.

Rest

May Thy children realize and understand that their rest

            comes from Thee, and that to rest means to sanctify Thy name.  

                                                                 The Afternoon Prayer for the Sabbath

Six days a week we wrestle with the world, wringing profit from the earth; on the Sabbath we especially care for the seed of eternity planted in the soul. The world has our hands, but our soul belongs to Someone Else. 

                                                                                        Abraham Joshua Heschel

Look, Listen, Pray

Photography has been important to me for many years. Taking my camera for a walk grounds me. Through the lens I am gifted with sweet surprises that often feel like miracles. 

I especially love the power of a photograph to speak to each person so individually. What we bring to the image from our own experience and present needs can stir, comfort, discomfort, and even heal us. 

Recently I read about a kind of meditative prayer called Visio Divina. It is a type of contemplative prayer in which you spend time sitting with an image, allowing God to reveal to you some understanding through the art. You may sense a word, an emotion, a memory. You rest in whatever comes.

With so much noise in the world, I want to bring you some opportunities to "see"what God wants to share with you. The meditations always come with photographs that in my heart connect in some way.

I gently encourage you sit with some of them, or take a few of your own.

You may be surprised by the result.

For more information and ideas on how to incorporate the practice of Visio Divina (and many other prayerful experiences) into your life, see Be Kind to Yourself by Cindy Bunch

Here are a couple of other resources on Visio Divina:

Praying with Your Eyes

Visio Divina Training

Hear My Cry

Surely, I wait for the Lord;

        who bends down to me and hears my cry,

Draws me up from the pit of destruction,

         out of the muddy clay,

Sets my feet upon rock,

         steadies my steps,

And puts a new song in my mouth,

         a hymn to our God.

                                        Psalm 40:2–4

What a beautiful image, God bending down to me, hearing my cries and drawing me up. In some of my most desperate moments, I have wanted nothing more than for someone to comfort me as if I were once again a small child. It is this kind of care that I sense in the beginning of this Psalm. God, as parent, coming to pick me up and surround me with a loving embrace. 

But the story doesn't end there. The next line of the Psalm tells of what every good parent does after offering comfort–sets me on my own feet and gives me the strength to move on. There is work to be done. 

Right now, many of us feel stuck in the muddy clay. If you are weary, don't stop crying out for God's help. Don't lose hope. God will not abandon you. 

And if your feet have been steadied on firm ground, keep listening. God may be calling you to be the hands and feet that reach out to comfort someone else.

Holding on Tight

One thing I've noticed about this pandemic haze is that every day feels weirdly the same. I've been cycling through the stages of self-distancing grief: Netflix binges, self-care routines, drink-of-the-day experiments, new hobby exploration, and of course, sourdough everything.

I've likely tried more new activities and produced more projects than at any other time in my life. So why does Monday still feel like Thursday and February look remarkably like November? Perhaps it's because watching the delivery drivers walk away before opening the front door is not the same as placing a special gift directly into a friend's hand or chatting with the cashier about the weather. We can send and receive virtually everything we need through contactless delivery...except human contact.

Don't get me wrong, I'm an introvert through and through. But I miss people. 

Never in my life have I felt more deeply the lesson that we were not meant to journey through this life alone. 

Zoom calls have been a lifeline, but lifelines are meant to be pulled into the safety of a boat or the firm stability of hard ground. I'm still holding on, but I am counting the days to reach the source of this lifeline and give my friends and family a big, long hug.

What lesson are you sitting with today? 

Who or what has been your lifeline?

A Different Ash Wednesday

Then Jesus was led by the Spirit into the desert to be tempted by the devil. He fasted for forty days and forty nights, and afterwards he was hungry. 

                                                                                    ~Matthew 4:1–2

It's Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent. This day we take the first step with Jesus into a spiritual desert for the Lenten season. 

Typically today I would decide what sacrifices to make for the next forty days, but this year is different. This year, it feels like I'm starting in the middle of the desert, and I'm already hungry. 

I'm hungry for connection. I'm hungry for normalcy. I'm hungry for peace. I'm left wondering, in this weird pandemic reality of 2021, how do I approach the season of Lent?

So...a Lenten invitation for anyone who would like to join me. Instead of considering what to give up or what to add, perhaps we pause and go deeper into our present moment to see how God is working in our lives. 

Let's ask ourselves:

What has been exposed in my isolation? 

When the world became suddenly still, what spoke to me?

In the midst of these difficult days, what surprised me most about myself?

Do I feel closer to God for having walked through the trials of this year?

Where do I find God in my life right now? 

If there is one thing I could do today to feel God's presence, what would it be?

There are no wrong answers, just starting places.