What a wonderful world

This morning as I was driving to our ministerial meeting I was full of the wonder of life. I said to God, "I am so glad you are in the world with me. You make it worth living," and other such romantic chit chat. Then my thoughts turned a little darker. How would I live with out him? What would my life be like if there was no God?

Today we went to a memorial service for Tom, Elaine's uncle. He committed suicide Thanksgiving day. He was an atheist. As I reflected on it, he really lived what he believed too. His life is how I would probably live if I didn't have my Divine Love.

Tom was a musician and a free spirit. He could pick up and go anywhere, love anyone, fulfill any apatite. He loved many women and kept them as friends when no longer lovers. He enjoyed his drugs and alcohol until two years ago, and why not? His friends at the memorial service were saddened by their loss of a truly unique and honest human being. They had only their memories to keep him alive.

In a way he is heroic. He looked death in the eyes and met it on his own terms. He had no fear of death, it was life that had become fearful. He lived his life well, just how I would hope to live without a God.

I say to God again, "Thank you for being here with me, for the grace of drawing me to you. Thank you for the grace to love you, the grace to stare life in the face with out fear. Thank you for the grace to gaze at death with hope. Please Lord, grant that grace to the wonderful bohemian friends that are mourning the loss of Tom. Amen"

Buffeted by grace

The fierce wind battered the tent fabric around me. I sat in the corner keeping the tent from becoming a kite, half hoping that this would be the day I fly. I sat hunched, the collar of my trench coat meeting the brim of my hat. My eyes peered through the crack toward the tent floor, at crystal of frozen coffee where it had spilled scalding. I spent two hours of my experiment in solitude in this way.¹

Shortly into my experience of chill. I examined my thoughts, I found that my mind was wandering to attempts to put words to the descriptions of the wind, the cold, the frozen coffee. I pulled out my rosary and fingered the beads, the Jesus prayer bringing focus back to my mind.

Bonhoeffer says, “Do not ask ‘How shall I pass this on?’ but ‘What does it say to me?’ Then ponder the Word long in your heart until it has gone right into you and taken possession of you.”²

That quote from Soul Feast has stuck with me. Too often my initial response to my conversation with God is, How am I to relate this? How do I describe this? But the discipline of solitude begs silence, begs secrecy. “Without silence there is no solitude.”³ Even though I was greatly tempted to categorized, describe and catalogue my experience, I found once I was with people I had a reticence to speak at all. It is with some difficulty that a day removed from the experience of Solitude I now turn to description.

So there I sat with my rosary beads, “Lord Jesus, Son of God, have mercy on me a sinner.” The touch of the beads and the recollection of prayer tuned out for a moment the writer in my mind, the cold, and the clutter of thought. I finished making my way around the decades and returned to allow the distractions of my surroundings to speak to me.

The overwhelming image, as the wind howled and tent flapped and fluttered, was that of Elijah hidden in the cleft of the rock as God passed by.

The LORD said, "Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the LORD, for the LORD is about to pass by."

Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper.⁴

“What if God was in the terrible wind?” I thought as my body leaned back into the wind and the billowing fabric embraced me. “What if this thin nylon is all that separated me from the real presence of God in the wind?” I imagined that the only reason I was inside the tent was that the fabric protected my body from being vaporized by his Holy Presence. “Wouldn’t it be better,” I thought, “to go out there and be vaporized just to see him face to face?” In the tent it certainly sounded and felt like a mountain shattering kind of wind was whipping me across Saginaw bay, but the Lord was not in the wind.

After two hours of wind and below freezing temperature⁵, I felt like giving in and giving up. I asked God what I should do. I looked longingly out the vents at the top of the tent, but not for long, the wind froze my face and blew me back. I heard him say in my heart, “Go in and enjoy my warmth.” I did not dare question whether it was my imagination or if it was truly his voice - I ran for the church.

Even before I could make myself a double English toffee latte, I was overwhelmed with a release. It was a climax. I entered into God hard after my fast from shelter. He was the warmth around me, he was the walls that kept the wind out. He was mine. If I had a fire place I would have perhaps calmed gently but instead I cried out to him and sucked the heat from my coffee even as I sucked life from His breast. I sat and listened. Silence is the essence of solitude.

In taking away shelter, I stood in solidarity with the homeless, going without another of the basic needs at the bottom of the Maslow Hierarchy. I wondered through chattering teeth what the man, a friend of a parishioner, who lives in a tent and works in the sugar factory, was doing this cold night. Has he found an affordable apartment yet? Is he freezing with me?

Simplicity strips away the romantic notions of the disciplined life. I imagined myself enjoying a few hours sitting in the middle of the tent with a cup of coffee surrounded by candles. The wind knocked over my coffee, I had to sit in the corner struggling against the wind, and the candles wouldn’t light. All the amenities stripped away, I found raw solitude. In simplicity I sat before the Lord, fully aware that I was dependent, uncomfortable and lost without him. Simplicity makes independence a dread thought.

Simplicity challenges me to the core. Do I give away the MacBook I bought for my studies? Should I have bought the new printer to go with it? Simplicity also demands that I not cast myself in a good light, so here I confess my extravagance, my printer is a color laser printer. I am not comfortable owning these hip and useful things.

Both solitude and simplicity are dear and painful to me. They stretch and buffet my soul. They answer the prayer I have prayed with John Donne, “Batter my heart, three person’d God.”

1 I thought I would see what would happen if I took away another element from the base of Maslow’s pyramid, so in my experiment I pitched a tent in the corner of the church yard furthest from all action. I didn’t stake it in so my body was all that kept if from flying away.

2 Thompson, Marjorie J. Soul Feast. Westminster John Knox Press. Pg. 26.

3 Foster, Richard J. Celebration of Discipline. Harper Collins. Pg. 98.

4 1 Kings 19:11-13 (NIV)

5 According to weather.com, the wind speed was 29 mph, and temp 28°F (wind-chill brought it to 14°F)

Frogs

This morning Foster went around with a pencil as a wand turning us all into frogs. When Ella turned him into a frog, he had a frog performance worthy of home video.

He reminded me of Richard Foster's treatment of study.
"The handiwork of the Creator can speak to us and teach us if we will listen. Martin Buber tells the story of the rabbi who went to a pond every day at dawn to learn "the song with which the frogs praise God."

Adventures in Fasting part 12

After two helpings I feel quite stuffed. God’s goodness is too much for me to handle, I cannot contain him. My gut might just split with his goodness, and yet he offers me desert and coffee.

Adventures in Fasting part 11

I have never been so expectant for a meal. I am impatiently bouncing in the kitchen trying to keep warm as the smells swirl around me. Dinner is getting late. God may this feast be like partaking in you, bread of life. As we eat, may we participate in our abundance. You have provided greatly and now as I eat, I join you in your abundance and love.

Adventures in Fasting part 10

We’re at Grandma’s house and the turkey is in the oven, the green-bean casserole is going into the convection oven and my saliva glands are going overtime. My sense of desperation has multiplied. “O God come to my assistance, Lord make haste to help me!” I am so hungry for you Lord! I love you so much. Bread of life, fill me!

Adventures in Fasting part 9

Normally I run hot. I don't get to wear sweaters and I sweat like crazy. I just noticed that I'm chilly. My body is apparently needing to do something beside warm me up.

Adventures in Fasting part 8

My family is eating breakfast now. I find my thoughts are far from God and Spirit, instead I have a running countdown to dinner at 2pm.

Of course, as with all such revelations, I can let this remind me to go back to my source, to my true bread. Back to breath prayer and Divine Office.

Adventures in Fasting part 7

The next day:

Well, my body clock has reset. I don't normally eat breakfast, so I'm pretty comfortable this morning. I am looking forward to my break-fast though: Thanksgiving dinner. While not strictly an event on the traditional church calendar, it is, or should be at least, a spiritual feast for Americans.

Winner notes in Mudhouse Sabbath that early Christian tradition pairs fasting with feasting. In order to prepare for a feast, it is good to know hunger.

"Eastern Orthodox Christian communities, it seems, understand an inhabit fasting best. During Lent, for example, they completely abstain from all meat, dairy, and egg products. the Orthodox also fast on Sunday mornings, refraining even from drinking a cup of coffee until they have partaken of Holy Communion, feeding on the body and blood of Christ before they indulge in a croissant or a stack of pancakes."

Cliff has a service this morning, but though he's preaching on Christ as the bread of life, they aren't celebrating communion. I told him if he was, "I'm so there."

Adventures in Fasting part 6

As the close of day draws near, I really want to eat. We went to a Thanksgiving Eve service. I was somewhat disappointed that I wasn't able to make a bigger splash for the coffeehouse at the service. I was going to bring some brochures and I forgot. I ran back to our church to get them and got back about ten min late. After the service there were deserts, I had only a peppermint tea. Going home my disappointment turned to being down. I overwhelmingly wanted to fill that void with food.

At home I put the kids to bed and prayed compline with them.