Tag: theology

Sanctuary

I needed a place to rest.  The last few nights showcased a deluge of insomnia and worry; I needed a sanctuary for my mind.  I sought it first in bed, not moving until far too late to make it to church on time.  No shower.  No made bed.  No curled hair.  No breakfast.  In a far too quick 15 minutes, I lugged myself out the door with a poorly considered outfit and an ounce of espresso graciously brought to me with a “You seemed to be running behind” look of concern.  It was Palm Sunday and I needed a rest, but it was not in my bed.

I looked for rest among the Chreasters and regulars, the families and friends of performers, and the general hullabaloo of the Easter pageant at church.  Drama and costumes.  Well-planned light cues.  The play was full of orchestra and choir, jolly off-beats, and solemn ad libitum.  Full of now, but lacking yesterday and tomorrow.  Flagged on the sturdy pole of a good star-crossed love story, was a muted banner of “Jesus Is The Way.”  Quiet Jesus.  Loud Romans.  Loud wishing things were different.  It was Palm Sunday and I needed rest in the mystery of heaven, not the turmoil of a human heart.

When I returned home and released myself from my old, worn out tights and uncomfortable shoes, I wearily made my way to the kitchen to work out my own salvation with disappointment and cleaning.  But I was tired.  I had no work-ful spirit left in me.  I stood lonely in front of the stove with a hymnal:

There is a fountain filled with blood drawn from Emmanuel’s veins;
And sinners plunged beneath that flood lose all their guilty stains.
Lose all their guilty stains, lose all their guilty stains;
And sinners plunged beneath that flood lose all their guilty stains.

The dying thief rejoiced to see that fountain in his day;
And there have I, though vile as he, washed all my sins away.
Washed all my sins away, washed all my sins away;
And there have I, though vile as he, washed all my sins away.

Dear dying Lamb, Thy precious blood shall never lose its power
Till all the ransomed church of God be saved, to sin no more.
Be saved, to sin no more, be saved, to sin no more;
Till all the ransomed church of God be saved, to sin no more.

E’er since, by faith, I saw the stream Thy flowing wounds supply,
Redeeming love has been my theme, and shall be till I die.
And shall be till I die, and shall be till I die;
Redeeming love has been my theme, and shall be till I die.

Then in a nobler, sweeter song, I’ll sing Thy power to save,
When this poor lisping, stammering tongue lies silent in the grave.
Lies silent in the grave, lies silent in the grave;
When this poor lisping, stammering tongue lies silent in the grave.

Lord, I believe Thou hast prepared, unworthy though I be,
For me a blood bought free reward, a golden harp for me!
’Tis strung and tuned for endless years, and formed by power divine,
To sound in God the Father’s ears no other name but Thine.

My voice grew louder and I felt every sound wave vibrate inside.  The song–the words, the melody–shook my stomach, my knees, my toes, my eyes, my heart.  I was ALL IN–all in reconnecting peace.  It was Palm Sunday and I needed rest and there it was in the middle of the kitchen mess.  Not working, but being with the Lord.  Sanctuary.

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Of All The Sizzling Ideas

The thought that stands out in my head this evening is, “I am a spirit.  I live in a body.  I have a mind.”  Since I was five, P.G.’s words have been ringing in my ears, reminding me that all these parts are meant to be there.  They all work together.  They all have a purpose.  And they all need attention.

I finally made it to a Bible Study tonight.  This is something I’ve been trying to do all year, but with my work schedule, family schedule, and getting out of town on the weekends schedule, it just hasn’t happened.

So after all my absences, here’s what I got into tonight:  My sister, a few other married ladies, one young gun, and myself met up tonight to discuss a book called “Lies Women Believe.” Let me just tell you, that title is all kinds of intimidating to me.  What’s more is that the lie we were covering this week was “Lies About Sin.” All I could think was, “I’m dead.  I’m so dead.  Just try to keep your mouth shut, Sommer.  If you are forced to say something, let it be in the lines of a hmm.”

But in the end, once we steered the young one away from big, blatant, horrible sins like murder and adultery, things that thankfully none of us struggle with, I came out alive–all spirituality and decency in tact.  I must believe that I am even better it–for speaking my mind, attaching my story to my beliefs, and listening to the challenges, questions, and love of these ladies.  Even though they are still so new to me, I was able to be humbly brave in their midst.

We openly discussed levels of sin, sins that can’t be forgiven, sins that are subtle, sins that are sneaky, and sins that just look like foolishness, but really stem from deep rooted lies that, yes, we believe as women.

And my mind sizzled.

So tomorrow morning, when I am running, practicing disciplining, I will also be praying in thoughts about growing in ever increasing glory.  All of this because I believe in being a spirit, living in a body, and having a mind.  Thanks, P.G. for molding my life even now so that I continue to seek the things that are most natural to my three-part being.

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If Jesus is about anything…

“If Jesus is about anything, it’s the inconvenient truth that a spiritual life is a physical life.”

–Sara Miles
“jesus freak”
Jossey-Bass Publishing, (c) 2010

Sara Miles is the founder and director of The Food Pantry, and serves as Director of Ministry at St. Gregory of Nyssa Episcopal Church in San Francisco, USA.

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Running To Yourself

“…So it isn’t a matter of trying to run away from yourself, but running away to yourself, to the identity you are not allowed to recognize or nurture or grow so long as you are stuck in the habits of anxious comparison, status seeking, and chatter.”

–Rowan Williams, Archbishop of Canterbury
Where God Happens: Discovering Christ in One Another
New Seeds Books, Shambhala Publications, Inc.
(c) 2005 for A World Community of Christian Meditation

It is recommended to read this statement, at minimum, twice to self and twice out loud.

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Heaven

“To me, the notion that life is a dream compared to the reality of heaven has always seemed better suited to the fiction of Borges than to living one’s every day life.”

–Kathleen Norris

I can’t live for today when tomorrow is always on my mind.  I must learn to live fully in this only moment that I have because tomorrow slides right into it anyway.  Yes, without my even knowing heaven comes quicker than I think.

-Naphtalia

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The Flood

All is quiet now.
No one has gone where
anyone used to go.

This is man being born

again, in trial again–
God in labor again.

Again, everything starts
again.

Yes, even God’s life is wrought with agains.

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A Latent Conversation: Praying on the Phone in Dunn Bro.

“I’ve been busier than a one-legged man at an ass-kicking contest.”  That was just the beginning of his conversation.  You can only imagine how colorful the rest of it was–complete with generous amounts of: inherited that nasty OCD, my third wife, people praying, two psychologists seeing her, and the whole church lifting her up. –A phone conversation in the booth next to me at Dunn Brothers coffee house.

As abrasive as his speech was to his long-forgotten friend (re: “Sorry I haven’t called you back;  I’ve been busier…”) and my strange ears, I couldn’t help but wonder when his prayer turned into conversation and when it might turn back.  Because to me, prayer is simply very special talking.

Prayer is the process of moving spiritual longings from our spirit to our physical minds and tongues and back to the spirit world of God’s listening.  So when we talk, it simply makes sense that we could very well be praying.

When we speak, where do our words come from?  It is a matter to contemplate.  Are they streaming from spirit or from mind?  In the end, it doesn’t really matter as long as we are aware of both.  This is because prayer is transient.  It moves from spirit world to earthly world effortlessly and thus connects our parts into a whole person.  But we must be aware and we must be able to place the words into the left out world.

If your words are coming only from your mind, learn to put them into your spirit.  Check in and see if your spirit need be concerned.  Ask your spirit to lay a supplication before God.  Connect your mind to spirit.  If your words are coming from your spirit, make sure they travel through your physical mouth and back into your spirit to rest.  This releases the mind from circumstantial control, from a timid human path of healing into a more bold spiritual grace.  Why?  Because prayer is transient and it must be released in order to do its work.

I am beginning to believe prayer is faith in true completeness, in healthiness of mind, spirit, and soul.  It is letting the spirit voice its concerns and weights while at the same time letting the mind know one’s depth of person and place.  Prayer is what creates peace within the battling self.

So be attentive to your words and to your spirit.  Allow both to say what they feel need to said and in this way, you will be praying continually, should that be a desire of yours indeed.  And remember, even latent conversations, the ones you always wanted to have but never did, can today be voiced and prayed in sweet humility and renewed fervency.  “In all things pray continually.”  I Thessalonians 5:16

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Speech

“We are looking or listening here for speech that will affirm and open the way to life, for a speech that can be playful and not just useful, for words that disturb and change us not because they threaten but because they ‘fit’ a reality we are just beginning to discern.  If communities of faith took language this seriously, they would be extraordinary signs of transformation.”

–Rowan Williams, Archbishop of Canterbury
Where God Happens: Discovering Christ in One Another
New Seeds Books, Shambhala Publications, Inc.
(c) 2005 for A World Community of Christian Meditation

Williams writes this in the middle of a section on fleeing from the tongue, from one’s own mouth and words.  He equates silence with those moments when the sun is rising and we don’t want to say anything for fear of ruining the beauty.  He also relates fleeing and silence to the process of writing poetry.  Truly, I have seen poets wait in long bouts of silence for the most direct, most penetrating words in order to miss triteness and hit truth.  This is a stark reminder to me to be ever thoughtful of my speech so that I can indeed be blessed with new reality for myself and my neighbors as my days proceed.

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