Midnight machinations

This is the time of night, it seems, that I make resolutions and have grand plans of action. It is too bad that my mind picks the time my body needs to sleep to be most active. A couple nights ago it was a desire to get Foster's room in order. Tonight I am making plans to be productive: praying the hours and doing lectio divina on the texts for each day. Maybe by writing it down,the resolution might linger until morning?

Is change coming?

Three weeks was a long time to be away. It was so good for me.  I come back to the house, not with a depressed listlessness, but a restless contentment and an expectation of what is to come. I feel alive again.

Elaine and I have called this Summer a time of transition. We have no idea what that means, only a sense that something needed to change. As we spent time together on our trip our sense became more clear. Change is coming and we are both open to it.  We still have no idea what that will look like.  We are not actively looking, the door will have to present itself and open on its own accord by the power of God.

My dad is helping to plant Crowne Pointe church in Bloomington. They meet in the auditorium beloning to Cedar Valley Church (or as I knew it Bloomington AG).  We went with the kids to Real Kids FX (Family Experience) an integrated service before the regular services. I was in love.  Children's Pastor, Jesse Baumgartner, has found a way to put my philosophy of ministry into action!  The service opened my eyes to how my family ministry model can be fit into the expectations of an existing church.  It also showed me how I could feel comfortable being part of the pastoral team in a large church setting. I could totally see being the pastor to the families in the FX service, or even seeing it as a church plant that the big church mothers.

There seems to be a big jump from where we are to that kind of place where I can engage in my passions. Will God transform our church into the place I flourish? or will it be a church plant in Bay City? or will God move us to a metropolitan area like Kalamazoo or Traverse City?  Time will tell. For now we wait on the Lord (Isaiah 40:31).

Listlessness and the Consuming Fire

Lately I have felt listless and depressed. Without the challenge of my Masters program to occupy my time, I have become acutely aware of the tedium and slow death inherent with just hanging on. My feelings over the last couple months are spoken eloquently by this quote via Jamie:

"...it is always easier to busy ourselves than to merely exist. Even important and useful work can distract us from remembering who we are, and what our deeper purpose might be. Monastic wisdom insists that when we are most tempted to feel bored, apathetic, and despondent over the meaninglessness of life we are on the verge of discovering our true self in relation to God. It is worth not giving up, because when we are willing to do nothing but 'be,' we meet the God who is the very ground of being, the great I AM whom Moses encountered at the burning bush." [Acedia and Me - Kathleen Norris].

I want to hide from these words.  I have cherished my darkness, grieving the loss of a stage of life. I have felt unprepared to stare into the burning bush. Yet even in the midst of the paschal mystery, Christ is there.  These last couple weeks leading up to vacation have been an easing of the darkness for me.

Today I retreated into the consuming fire.  I made my way to Northfield and enjoyed an americano in reverie.  I really love Northfield or the romantic dream that is Northfield in my mind. Mom told me this morning that my cousin Jon is talking about planting a church in Northfield with a friend.  Here again I enter the paschal place.  I have long harbored a dream of doing just that.  It doesn't seem likely that we will leave the Michigan District to come back to Minnesota, still it is hard to give up a dream.

I went over to Carleton College and walked the Stewsie Island Labyrinth.  In the center I sat with God and gave up my dreams. As I walked the path out - the path of ministry to the world, I felt God offering me encouragement for ministry in Sebewaing.  I could use my newfound love of spiritual direction when visiting with people, but I have resisted doing it.  God challenged me again to obedience.  This challenge would have seemed convicting, even condemning since fear has made me disobedient for so long, had it not been for God's laughable word a few weeks ago "I trust you."  God trusts me?!  Back in the car, the words of Switchfoot go straight to my heart:

Free,
Come set me free
Down on my knees
I still believe you can
Save me from me
Come set me free
Come set me free
Inside this shell
There’s a prison cell

And today I do believe God can save me from me.

A Monstrance

From the consuming fire of the sun beating on the labyrinth, I went into the consuming fire of Divine Mercy Adoration Chapel.  The Catholic church in Faribault set this chapel up ten years ago for perpetual adoration. It's like the 24 hour prayer movement contemplative style. There I sensed the presence of God  with power.  It made me tremble.  One neat practical application of Catholic Eucharistic Theology is the monstrance.   The believe in the actual presence of Christ in the bread and wine.  The monstrance is a display in which they can place the consecrated host so they can stand in the real presence of Christ.

I am not a practiced catholic, (not really a catholic at all, shh!) I haven't quite figured out how to genuflect.  In the presnence of the monstrance I prayed these words:

You are my King

and I don't know how to honor You

You are my Lover

and I don't know how to love You

You are my Soul

and I don't know how to trust You

I imagined the presence of Christ being concentrated in that peace of bread in the center of the monstrance. (Why not?) If we can see the presence of Christ concentrated in a wafer, how much more in the real and visible body of Christ  - each other.

Archbishop Desmond Tutu said,

"If you and I took our theology seriously, this is the point -- we bear God in us; we are sanctuaries; we are temples of the Holy Spirit. We shouldn't just shake hands and greet each other in the normal kind of way. We ought, each one of us, to genuflect before one another." 

Somehow that thought brought me to tears. Perhaps it was a powerful realization that I am not alone, grieving my losses in some corner, but I am part of a living and active body. I have a place and so do those around me that my eyes see with distrust.

I can't sleep

Tonight I enter into the Paschal Mystery as I once again mourn the death of a dream, as the steampunk incarnation of Live Wired Coffeehouse which was to be at The Whistle Stop appears to be laid to rest.  Jesus Christ, draw me close to you in the fellowship of our sufferings and give me the strength to dream another dream.

Study cave proving successful

Called convention and District Council took me away from my studies and consumed my attention. Needless to say, coming back I felt the stress of the final paper in my masters studies hanging over me. Sunday night my family graciously helped me transform my basement church office into a study cave - cleaning it, assembling a new desk chair, arranging a number of candles and stocking the fridge with a case of redbull.

This has done me good. I have been making strides in the last couple days. I have nearly completed my literature review and have a good start on my challenge section. At this pace I am pretty comfortable, unfortunately graduation feels like just another distraction as we plan to leave for the Spring Arbor area tomorrow night.

A week in Lansing

I've spent much of this last week in Lansing. Last weekend was Called Convention, as usual I set up the reflection room. It was neat to see the teenagers worshiping with such zeal. The irony was not lost on me, that as I struggled with restlessness and searched for direction for my ministry, I was tasked with helping students discern their callings. It was helpful for me, too.  I had been in a funk, questioning my effectiveness as a minister.

The David Crowder song How He Loves wrecked me the first night. I was powerfully overcome by a sense of God's love. Lines like, "All of a sudden I am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory," and "And heaven meets earth like an unforeseen kiss/And my heart turns violently inside of my chest, I don’t have time to maintain these regrets..." destroyed my funk.

Sunday morning I went to an early service at All Saints Episcopal. I found the liturgy and eucharist as nourishing as ever.  Then I high-tailed it back to Sebewaing and managed to make it in time to hear Elaine deliver a killer sermon. It was the first Sunday I had been in church without suit or tie.  I felt relaxed.

Monday we took off for District Council.  We happened to have booked the same hotel that I had stayed in for called convention. I had no luck finding a decent espresso the first time we were there, but Mount Hope had a surprisingly good shot, so did Deckers and Gone Wired.

I greatly enjoyed conversations with friends and the services. God was affirming and it was wonderful.  As Elaine and I were leaving, a pastor of a large church with many daughter churches and author of many books, a guy with whom people are impressed, said he thought we were impressive!  I chortled and Elaine said, "whatever." I felt such consolation on the trip home.  God spoke to me through Dave's words.  It was like hearing God saying "You are my beloved son, in you am I well pleased."  Nice.

Habits of a Child's Heart

Habits of a Child's Heart: Raising Your Kids With the Spiritual Discipline by Valerie E. Hess

My rating: 4 of 5 stars
In Habits of a Child’s Heart, Valerie Hess and Marti Garlett present a very accessible retelling of Richard Foster’s Celebration of Discipline. They take each discipline that Foster covers in Celebration of Discipline one at a time.  They give an overview of the discipline, providing stories from their own experiences with the discipline.  Then they give the parent suggestions for practicing the discipline. The practices are very practical and often geared toward the challenges faced by parents.  The authors then give age specific suggestions as to how children could practice each discipline.  They offer three categories, young children (5-7), middle childhood (8-11) and adolescence (12-15).

Present in this outstanding work is the assumption that the disciplined life is accessible even to children.  The goal of the disciplines is not simply character development or building a Christian worldview. Rather it is building of experiences with God through God’s grace.  Experiences like these are the stuff of spiritual direction.  Fathers Barry and Connolly point out in their book, The Practice of Spiritual Direction, that with out such experiences there can be no direction.  The spiritual director is primarily concerned with the experiences the directee is having with the Spirit.  Parents have a great resource in the Habits of a Child’s Heart for offering places where children can experience grace moving on them.

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My Philosophy of Spiritual Formation

Definition
I define spiritual formation as the process of being formed by God into the very image of Christ as we are immersed in the streams of a wide orthodoxy, diving into intimacy with others and the Trinity. Or as Robert Mulholland succinctly expresses it, Spiritual formation is the “process of being conformed to the image of Christ for the sake of others." To put it in terms more familiar to the church, spiritual formation describes how discipleship happens.

Jesus said he came to bring life and life to its full (John 10:10). Living in the kingdom of heaven means living that eternal kind of life now. There is within us the desire for the depths of relationship with Christ that make this full, abundant life possible.

Deep calls to deep
at the thunder of your cataracts;
all your waves and your billows
have gone over me. Psalm 42:7 (NRSV)

Romantic and Spiritual - a great retreat

This week Elaine and I went on a much needed retreat together. We dropped the kids off at Grandma Carmack's and made our way to Mendon Country Inn.  The first year we were married we spent a Christmas Eve there on our way to Elaine's family get together. Our heating core was plugged and half way there the little electric heater, plugged into the lighter, went out.  By the time we got there our feet were blocks of ice and the fireplace and Jacuzzi in our room was a welcome experience. We loved our stay and the South African innkeepers were charming.

A little over eight years latter we had no idea where we had stayed, and it took some searching to find them. We got into the same room we were in years ago. Come to find out St. Gregory's Abby is only about twenty miles away. We went over there for communion, and I had a chance to show Elaine where I have spent my time when on my retreats there. We had pittance and a chat with the monks after the prayer service.

The weather was rainy and cold. We spent most of our time indoors, though the first night the weather broke, and we walked down by a creek flowing into the St. Joseph river.  The bed and breakfast had a little island with a gazebo surrounded by the flowing brook.  It was lovely to be in creation.

When driving we had some conversations about our frustrations in ministry and what it would take to breakthrough. Elaine and I serve as a tension between my realization of powerlessness and hers of action. The great question we have to live into is - how do we create space for people both in and out of the church to grow in the Spirit.

The innkeepers, Cheryl and Gerard, were wonderful at creating a hospitable space. The last morning we chatted over breakfast for a couple hours. It was a wonderful encouragement.  Hospitality is a wonderful thing.

There was another gran sorprendido.  Across the street there is a small mexican restaurant.  I could smell the hot tortillas. We decided to go there for dinner rather than an upscale option.  We didn't have great expectations - expecting a dive, but what we found was the best authentic mexican food I have had in years. Salud is the name of the place, and it made us wish we were going to be there for another week to sample everything.

Solitude and Community

I value deep relationships. I desire to know and be known in the secret places. Nouwen insists that everyone needs a place that remains hidden and we are often too quick to reveal the inner workings of our lives. I find that difficult to understand. Transparency is a downright discipline for me, and I agree with Nouwen that that which is most intimate is the most universal. Yet, Nouwen also displays an intense desire for community like I do. Nouwen’s life and body of work demonstrates a relentless drive to integration. How then does he integrate the hidden solitary place with a robust community?

Structuring Solitude


I value depth of relationship so much! I long to enter into life giving soul-level conversation with people I meet. I have often felt it ironic that, for me, beginning a relationship is difficult. The shallow small talk causes me to stumble and gives me enough pause to avoid beginning a relationship.

Falling apart

My heart is raw again today.  Kip distributed an email from M— about the lease for our coffeehouse.  She talks about feeling taken advantage of.  Father John said, “I’m only half way through and I’m steaming.”  That is how I felt too. We didn’t ask for any of the generous things she felt were to her disadvantage.  She keeps backpedaling on her verbal agreements and yet seems upset that we need a lease.  She is upset that the process is taking so long when she stalled in getting us assurances that she was up to date on her financial obligations in the building. It is frustrating.  It feels like everything is falling apart.

I know the frustration of trying strategy after strategy and nothing bearing fruit.  That is how I felt on staff at Faribault.  That is how my church feels about the parade of pastors over their 75-year history.   When the coffeehouse seems tenuous, I suspect that if it fails, it may be the cause of my leaving. Defeated.

I am listening to Fee sing Everything Falls.  “When everything falls apart, your arms hold me together.  When everything falls apart, you’re the only hope for this heart.”  God is my hope still.  I am powerless to bear fruit.  And God, at times I feel angry with you for not producing fruit in me.  Then I wonder if in some way I am less connected to the vine than I ought to be. Perhaps it is just a matter of holding on?   

Feeling the love

Have you been there, where you don’t feel the emotions?  I think that is where we live most of our relationships. It’s not like I go through every moment of every day overcome with love for my wife, but I love her all the same. So the feeling is a consolation.  It is wonderful when it is there, but it doesn’t have to be for love to be a reality. 

The Great Commandment is Love the Lord your God with all…. And love your neighbor as yourself.  The love of self entails soul-care and psychology – delving into ourselves on the road of imperfection to wholeness.  The love of God implies theology and prayer and the love of neighbor service and ministry.  All three are bound up in our spirituality.  They all inform and change each other. Growth in one area will aid growth in another.

There is also an aspect of love that has been impressed on me since my silent retreat in October when I spent time experimenting with centering prayer.  Love can be exercised.  I felt something new in focusing my love on God. I felt like my love, my heart wasn’t big enough – that love would have to be exercised.  I have since noticed the same thing toward others: my wife, children, and neighbors. There is hope in the darkness when the sense of love is absent.  Like any atrophied muscle it can be exercised.  I think Nouwen offers essential ways to grow in love.  In Reaching Out, he talks about movement from illusion to prayer, loneliness to solitude, and hostility to hospitality.

Disciplines like prayer where I can meet with God and my subconscious and find healing, or solitude where I can shed my false isolation from loving community, build me up. They integrate into a whole life that effervesces with ministry.

Michael Ford talks about how ministry followed Nouwen.  He didn’t go off looking for ministry, but people were drawn to him. When immersed in ministry when he should have been resting, Nouwen claims:

Ministry happens.  I have done nothing here while on sabbatical to do ministry.   I didn’t come here to get people who mostly don’t go to church to join me in prayer and the Eucharist.  I just started to pray and invited one person to join me, and these others—neighbors and friends—simply came (198).

I long for that - for ministry to be the natural overflow of my integrated life.  I long to see God’s love spiraling out of control around me because of who God is in me. 

Healthcare reaction

My feelings today are a little raw.  The Health Care Reform bill made a big advancement yesterday and was signed into law today.  I am happy about that. If I had my way the politicians would have worked harder on a synthesis.  I think the democrats acted high handedly and the republicans were obstructionists. If both sides had approached with open minds and synthesized each others ideas, things would be much different in this country.

How very good and pleasant it is
when kindred live together in unity!
It is like the precious oil on the head,
running down upon the beard,
on the beard of Aaron,
running down over the collar of his robes. Psalm 133

Today I am faced with the backlash. Those who don't feel that this bill represents them are up in arms.  I suspect, perhaps incorrectly, that much of this is from fear, and may blow over when the "armageddon" predicted by conservative pundits and lawmakers fails to happen.

I guess I am still judgmental.

It strikes me today that I used to wonder how any one could be a Christian and a democrat.  Today I wonder how anyone could be a Christian and oppose health coverage for 32 million uninsured.  Lord, save me from my self-righteousness.


(Now I am afraid to allow comments on this post, given the rancor in the comments I have seen on Facebook. Will people honor that this is confessional or will they jump on the politics?  We shall see.)

The Trinity

Rublev's icon, The Trinity has been a favorite of mine for a few years. Just as I was beginning to hunger after the mystery revealed by icons, along comes Professor MoJo to introduce this icon with a meditation at our first residency.

What has stuck with me most is the attitude of adoration between the members of the Trinity.  I am reminded of the words of C.S. Lewis, "The words ‘God is love’ have no real meaning unless God contains at least two Persons. Love is something that one person has for another person. If God was a single person, then before the world was made, He was not love" (Mere Christianity, 174).  In this icon you can see the love of that God is, the love of the persons of the Trinity.

I also think about The Shack where Mack experiences the mutual adoration at the dinner table between Papa and Jesus.  This is beautiful stuff to me, and I am invited into the adoration by the curious property of icons, the reverse perspective.  The depth is flipped in on itself. The perspective puts me within the image, turning my head, and my soul inside out. To stare at it prayerfully means that I descend into my heart, where, as Simeon the New Theologian says, I encounter the Triune Mystery waiting for me.

Happy Making

I visited Father John today to touch base with him about what we are doing at the community lenten service on Wednesday.  He make me happy.  John is an original soul.   He has this way of weaving the psalms into his meditations.  I imagine it comes from praying the hours.

This year we are working our way to Jerusalem focusing on different geographical regions.  John and I get the Jordan river and the Mount of Transfiguration. John came up with the idea to have a dove fly from the Jordan river valley (at the baptismal font) to the mount of transfiguration (by the tabernacle).  This will be a "Creative Movement" or an interpretive dance with props.  I will play the dove with a puppet on a string. The movement will follow Psalm 91 along with Psalm 84.

I love the Psalms. I think that is part of what excites me about this week's service.  John gave me my first full liturgy of the hours to pray with.  It was the Benedictine Daily Prayer.  What a joy!

Jesus prayer

Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me.

The Russian pilgrim prayed this thousands of times a day walking his way across the steppes. It descended from his mind and lips to his heart, until he sensed his very heartbeat praying it over and over (Reaching Out, 102).

I have spent this last week with the prayer. It is not enough yet. I realized that I don’t pay much attention to my body. I am not like the runners who run to feel their breath and hear their beating heart. The breath prayer calls us to the now – to be aware of the present moment, what is going on in the body and the heart.

The monk instructs the pilgrim in the words of Simeon the New Theologian. “Sit down alone and in silence. Lower your head, shut your eyes, breathe out gently imagining yourself looking into your own heart” (102). To me this is the key. This is what separates the prayer of the heart from vain repetition. As I prayed, I felt myself circling the abyss of my heart, looking into it, but only for a moment descend. That moment was powerful, and Christ was present with his mercy, but I need more practice for the prayer to descend.

Like the pilgrim, I need to descend with the mind into the heart, as I cross the vast steppes on sojourn, all the while praying, Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me.

My theological education

My attitude toward academia has always been odd and somewhat counter productive to outward success. Nouwen talks about the competitive atmosphere at the seminaries he knew. People saw their theological training as mastery of the material for good grades and preparation for some future ministry. Those things have never motivated me, much to the chagrin of my academic advisors.

I learned best when I could integrate the material into my daily life, my spirituality. If I could make the connection, my mind soared with thoughts and ideas too lofty to put into a paper. When I couldn’t make the connection (like PE), I was frustrated and did poorly. Then, I also one or two correspondence courses where my lofty, creative thought wasn’t appreciated and I spent hours listening to Bing Crosby sing Don’t Fence Me In.

Also I was in active ministry throughout my undergrad. As much as I curse the stupidity of working full time at a church while studying, it did much to form the practical side of my philosophy of ministry. It also saved me from, what Nouwen warned, seeing theology a merely preparation for ministry. I saw the immediate connections and the frustrations of moving theory to praxis.

Ode to The Knowledge of the Holy

I like the significance Nouwen finds in the fact that “theologia” was first used in reference to prayer. I was first struck by the personal and practical power of theology when reading The Knowledge of the Holy by A. W. Tozer. As he explored attribute after attribute of the Divine Nature, I sensed the Presence of God all around me. I couldn’t get through a chapter with out weeping.

Theology for me has become synonymous with worship. I have little patience for any study of theology that doesn’t lead me to awe, worship and prayer. This means that my reading of theology must be Lectio Divina, spiritual reading into the reality of God. Often lately I have explored how the mystical encounters I have inform my theology. Nouwen encourages me to once again study theology with an eye to the reality of Christ.

The first time I read the Knowledge of the Holy, I thought, “How sad, with all the books out there that call to be read, I may never be able to return to this gem.” I have gone back to read it again, my ancient paperback falling apart. I think maybe this summer I’ll have to find another copy!

Writing

I look at Henri Nouwen's huge body of work and compulsion to write and I think "Now here is a writer. Perhaps I am not built to be a writer after all. After all I often feel a reluctance to write, and lack ideas."  Today I read these words from Henri, and am encouraged:

Writing, however, is often the source of great pain and anxiety. It is remarkable how hard it is for many students to sit down quietly and trust their own creativity. There seems to be a deep-seated resistance to writing. I have experienced this resistance myself over and over again. Even after many years of wnung, I experience real fear when I face the empty page. Why am I so afraid? Sometimes I have an imaginary reader in mind who is looking over my shoulder and rejecting every word I write down. Sometimes I am overwhelmed by the countless books and articles that already have been written, and I cannot imagine that I have anything to say that has not already been said better by someone else. Sometimes, it seems that every sentence fails to express what I really want to say, and that written words simply cannot hold what goes on in my mind and heart. These fears not seldom paralyze me and make me delay or even abandon my writing plans.

And still every time I overcome these fears and trust not only my own unique way of being in the world, but also my ability to give words to it, I experience a deep spiritual satisfaction. I have been trying to understand the nature of this satisfaction. What I am gradually discovering is that in the writing I come in touch with the Spirit of God within me and experience how I am led to new places. 

Most students of theology think that writing means writing down ideas, insights, or visions. They are of the opinion that they first must have something to say before they can put it on paper. For them, writing is little more than recording preexistent thoughts. But with this approach: true writing is impossible. Writing is a process in which we discover what lives in us. The writing itself reveals to us what is alive in us. The deepest satisfaction of writing is precisely that it opens up new spaces within us of which we were not aware before we started to write: To write is to embark on a journey of which we do not know the final destination. Thus writing requires a great act of trust. We have to say to ourselves: "I do not yet know what I carry in my heart, but I trust that it will emerge as I write."

Nouwen encourages me to make a daily practice of writing - regardless as to whether I feel I have anything to say. I can simply make a start of it and see what comes from the hidden parts of me.

Oratory of the heart

Nouwen cites a quote by Brother Lawrence that was familiar to me. In fact I have oft quoted it.

It is not necessary for being with God to be always at church. We may make an oratory of our heart wherein to retire from time to time to converse with Him in meekness, humility, and love. Every one is capable of such familiar conversation with God, some more, some less. He knows what we can do. Let us begin then (Genesee Diary 174).

Last January we spent our residency at Malvern retreat center near Philadelphia that had these great rooms called oratories. They were a beautiful place to pray. When I first read this quote, the only reference I had for the word oratory was a speech. Reading it again, with the experience of the oratories at the retreat center, I felt my heart enlarge. There, inside my heart was a place where I could meet with God, all day.

I find that this kind of prayer is aided by a habit of prayer throughout the day. I use the Liturgy of the Hours to offer a rhythm to my day, at least on the good days. This week I have been experimenting with using the Jesus Prayer as a breath prayer, “Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me.” It feels like the space in my soul expands with each breath.

From Illusion to prayer

In his Genesee Diary, Henri Nouwen relates the story of a man who was a prisoner of war and was tortured.

“He was a very simple, down-to-earth man with little political or ideological sophistication. But no pressure was able to force him to any kind of confession. John Eudes explained this by pointing to the man’s sense of identity. No self-doubt, no insecurities, no false guilt feelings that could be exploited by his enemies” (181).

In Reaching Out, Nouwen talks about the illusion of immortality leading to sentimentality or violence. I can’t identify places in my life or the life of my community where this particular illusion comes in play. I identify with the kinds of illusions that the prisoner of war lacked. I struggle with illusions as to who I am, and where I fit. At my core I doubt God’s ability to use me, in spite of myself. I fall for the lies that my wounds and the enemy would tell me. This is delusion. My community struggles with illusions of scarcity, and of lack of worth.

It is comforting, Nouwen’s assertion, that prayer dispels delusion. He says that prayer encompasses the conscious and unconscious self. He comingles his psychology with his spirituality here. The wounds hidden in the unconscious self can be healed in prayer, the illusions dealt with.

Hospitality of a mentor

Reflecting on hospitality, I recall the year I spent with Darren Daugherty at Summit Church in St. Paul between resigning my first position and returning to school. I asked him if he would mentor me. He told me that he didn’t feel ready to mentor someone but we began to meet weekly anyway. I dove into helping him with children’s ministry events on Sundays and Wednesdays. I started working four 10-hour days so that I could have Wednesdays free. Darren would take me out just about every Wednesday for lunch and listen as I ranted about my new convictions about ministering to families. Darren was a pioneer in family ministries and I had learned a lot of my convictions from him, yet he patiently listened as I reiterated things that he said. That year he created a space where I could test my convictions and grow my philosophy of ministry. I am struck by his patience during that time. Truly, I think he was more of a mentor than he realized.

Nouwen on pain

The experience of God's presence is not void of pain. But the pain is so deep that you do not want to miss it since it is in this pain that the joy of God's presence can be tasted.

- Genesee Diary Sept 19

munching - the joys of communion

I was telling my Spiritual Director about my love for Communion one day. She responded in a very affirming way. “It is a special grace,” she said, “that you receive so much meaning from communion. Embrace that.”

Nouwen has such deep love for the Eucharist, even from childhood. I love that. The way he talks about it paints an Icon in my mind, like the Rublev Trinity. I am invited to the table where God is engaged in mutual adoration. I am invited into the circle. The inverse perspective folds me into the image; I am there, in the with-God life. It is plain to see why Nouwen would want to share the experience across denominational bounds.

When I was at the first residence for class, I loved taking communion every day. Rob Rife was like a picture of my own desire to devour the elements in their full meaning. I would watch him literally munch, with his great jaw working, the body of Christ. I always want seconds.

Like Nouwen, my love for communion with God and with God’s family is strong. I too want to commune with other traditions. Some of my most meaningful times have been celebrated with Episcopalians. I appreciate the hospitality they show in open communion inviting even a Pentecostal like me into the heights of liturgy.

The treasure chest of pain

I met with my Spiritual Director today, and I told her the story of my time in solitude.  I told her that I started spending about an hour with Rublev's Trinity, then attempting some centering. She perceptively called me out.

"Why do you start your time with Icons when you have an elephant in the room to deal with."  She recognized that I had a boiling cauldron of emotions from the less than stellar showing at our missions convention. I said that I had been wrestling with God about my fruitfulness. She pushed back, "How can you say that you were wrestling with anybody?"  She saw that I was reluctant to really go there in my prayer.  I poked at it, gazed into the pit, but I didn't descend there to experience the feelings.

She told me that was a shame, since that is where God was waiting for me.  Her advice, don't waste your time with icons when you have a treasure to explore in prayer.

"Pain as a treasure chest, that's nice," I said, but that is where God can touch and heal those feelings, and embrace the child of God within me.

Aloneness

In Joseph Conrad’s story The Secret Sharer, a new ship captain tells how he took on board and concealed a murderer. The man, a mate on another ship, had swum to escape, and the captain found him, naked, clinging to the rope ladder. The captain was so affected by the picture of this man dressed in his pajamas that he came to think of him as his double. He identified so closely with him, that he couldn’t give him up and became distracted by concealing him until he could put him ashore. When he finally parted with this false self, he felt his focus return.

Already the ship was drawing ahead. And I was alone with her. Nothing! no one in the world should stand now between us, throwing a shadow on the way of silent knowledge and mute affection, the perfect communion of a seaman with his first command.

These words forged a connection in my mind with what Nouwen has been saying to me about solitude. We live a disjointed life, trying to protect our false self. All the while we are called to solitude. My friend Jerrell said, “Recently, I’ve come to discover that solitude isn’t always a byproduct of isolation, but aloneness.” We come face to face with who we are apart from the perceptions of others and the “scaffolding” we erect to prop up our false selves in the midst of solitude. When we find ourselves truly alone, we can, with the captain, enjoy perfect communion.

Resistance and coming to terms with myself

I have always been pretty introspective. Yet I have been surprised the last year how reluctant I have been to look into myself. My spiritual journey has asked that I dredge up the wounds of the past and expose them to the healing touch of Christ. Times of silence and solitude bring my fears, motives, and desires into focus. With difficulty I recognize that I have a hard time trusting God to make things grow. How much can I really affect my church people, my family, my wife, my own wholeness? How can I just let go of my illusion of control and let God do God’s thing.

All of these things take an active introspection, not navel gazing, but self-discovery and assessment. It is the answer to the Psalmist’s cry: search me (Psalm 139:23-24)! Am I willing to know myself? Am I willing to let the Spirit do the work? It is clear to me that this is necessary to my growth. Why do I resist? Perhaps it is time to spend more time in solitude and come face to face with the nature of myself.

Trust in emptiness

This week I can greatly identify with Nouwen’s assertion that solitude is not immediately satisfying. My experiences with solitude Monday initiated a week of wrestling with myself.

Yesterday I went with my friend Rich to a retreat center in Dewitt. He has been leading a group of us in exploring the implications of centering prayer for ministry the last few months. We get together once a month for several hours, talking, reading the Cloud of Unknowing, and spending about an hour in silent centering prayer.

I was looking forward to this time, hoping that the time with God would resolve the feelings from Monday. There were moments of connection when I felt the presence, but, by and large, there was nothing. Here lies the tension. I have to trust that God is in fact doing something in that time, even when I don’t see it. I learn from the tension something about fruitfulness, the center of my struggle, as well. Even when I am not feeling like I am bearing fruit, that my six years of preaching and living example aren’t making a difference in my present context, I can still trust that God is still moving, that God’s vital sap is producing the fruit.

Doing battle with myself

Yesterday I descended the steps to my basement office to do battle with demons. I did not know when I entered into undistracted solitude that I would be coming to grips with the darkness within me, though I knew no such endeavor is ever safe. The time since my experience has been avoiding solitude and silence, unwilling to engage the unfinished business I left in the basement of my heart.

I love solitude. Often it is a place for me to embrace and be embraced by Mystery. I touch eternity in those moments. This time, however, the Spirit of Christ was content to prod me, and poke at some uncomfortable places. In fact, I would call it a wrestling between us.