Tag Archives: glory

Just a little pause, even a slight turn stokes spiritual healing

A life in the Spirit, Spiritual direction, , ,

Not long ago, I was listening to a dear person trying to get started on a spiritually aware life. They described themselves as “stuck in their head.”

“I want to feel God,” they said. Then they paused and said, “I guess I just want to feel, period.” A few minutes later they said, “I’m afraid to feel, because it will all come up.”

Their awareness all started with a pause, or two, and a turn – a turn into their true self and toward the spiritual horizon beyond their present place along the way of Jesus.

It takes more effort to stay stuck than be free

They saw themselves as stuck. But they were hardly inactive. They had been working rather hard to keep “what might come up” stuck somewhere out of their consciousness. But as soon as they came to rest, did a little mentalizing, and did some listening with their “spiritual ears,” they began to consciously know what they already unconsciously sensed about themselves.

I admit I was kind of stuck on the fact they felt stuck. They looked at me with a look that meant, to me at least, “What am I going to do about this?”  I had no idea, so I told them what I do about it.

Usually, as soon as I get up, I go to my big brown chair and listen. I give thanks for the glories of the previous day. I list the times I saw signs of the Spirit at work and Love. I consider where I followed my false self around. Sometimes I caress my Episcopal prayer beads. Sometimes I investigate my icon wall. Sometimes I use my kneeler. Sometimes I read. But at some moment, maybe more, something will stir in me and I will pause, I may have to turn, to listen. And I feel myself in the presence of God. It is joy.

My accoutrement of prayer is very useful, but I don’t really need it all. I pause when I’m watching a show on TV. I turn into sunsets. I stand in awe of the work of God in others. I have heard one person tell of a series of visions, lately, and I stay very still for those epiphanies. I sing.

Practice the pause

It helps that I just finished a book called Practice the Pause: Jesus’ Contemplative Practice, New Brain Science, and What It Means to Be Fully Human, by Carolyn Oates.  It is a chatty, dissertation-like teaching organized around the author’s discovery of her personal relationship with God. It is a review of spiritual practices and a tale about how she found them when she scratched the surface of her superficial faith community.

She says: “The spiritual journey begins with a pause, a centering-in-God pause, and over time becomes a constant and ceaseless prayer, an honoring of and a connection with the Divine in you that awakens your essential self.”

She also says a lot about how recent brain science verifies that contemplation is life-giving.

“By returning to inner silence, solitude, and stillness in these few minutes a day, your amygdala will be smaller. We know now you will be much less reactive and forgetful. We know you will have a larger insula, more gray matter, and overall much smoother connections to your very human pre-frontal cortex. You will have greater awareness and insight and focus and even compassion.”

Jesus was a pauser. His disciples noticed the pattern of His life and emulated it. Before Jesus does his greatest and most-remembered works, he most likely has returned from some lonely place where he reconnected in the center of his being with who he was.

Oates says,

“This returning to our center again and again is a kind of in-and-out, in and out movement, like breathing: breathing in, we gather strength and calm, maybe an insight, maybe a sense of an injustice needing to be righted, and then breathing out, we go back out into the world to live into what we’ve been given and what we’ve received.”

Lent is the pause in the Christian calendar

I know some people come up against Lent and groan, ”Ugh! 40 days to feel stuck,“ or maybe, “40 days not to experience what others do.” It hurts me to mention that. But I know it is true for some people and they end up ratcheting down their desires and hopes until it seems like their insides will burst.

But I have to bring it up. The spiritual awareness we can all experience is in the pause. Lent is like a pause in the year. Sitting down to pray is a pause in the day. Going to a church meeting is a pause in the week. If you really turn into it, saying thanks before you eat your sandwich pauses all sorts of automatic behavior that could make your stuck.

The other day in worship, we sang a bunch of songs I didn’t really know, and I felt disappointed, because singing is a big awareness time for me. I was feeling, but when it came to church, I was not feeling it. My dear pastor was speaking and I was kind of looking like I was listening but I was turned away. I was too sleepy not to be moody and resistant. But he said something about glory and it hit me. The word kind of popped the cork of my bottled up desires.

I did not start listening, but I did start daydreaming about a song I led at my best friend’s funeral a long time ago, an unforgettable time in my life. I never liked the words of the song much, but I loved the way it brought about 800 of us together in the hushed and loving presence of God. And it was one of my dear friend’s favorites, so I loved it by association. The new words I daydreamed gave me the feeling of the old song with my own sensibilities worked in. If you want to sing it, here’s a version of the tune.

See the glory. Feel the glory. Be the glory come round.
In His name, love constrains us.
See the glory come round. Feel the glory come round.

I did feel the glory. Why wouldn’t I? I paused the week to be in worship. I paused my resistance to listen to a word. And I still feel the joy of it.

“In his glory” by Yongsung Kim (tap to by a print)

I immediately thought this would be a good little song to sing when our new small group meets. We’re building community with desperate hope in a turbulent time – a time when we need to pause, and see, and feel a glorious sense of oneness with God — and we need to be a place of rest for the world, too. Jesus says,

“Come to me, all you who are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” (Mathew 11:28)

I’m not as alive, not as human as Jesus, if I am not in his rest. If I am not there, I’ll be trying to get unyoked from my burdens or trying to pretend I’m not yoked, but I won’t be led into the true life I need. If Lent seems like a lot of responsibility or useless trouble, pause and listen to what Jesus is teaching above. Pause with him, be gentled and humbled and find rest. Turn into it. It was in that place of oneness Jesus was  recharged with joy and courage and it was from that place he changed the world, and still does.

Judith Viorst’s Necessary Losses: A helpful guide through your loss for Lent

A life in the Spirit, Psychological growth, Spiritual direction, , , , , , ,

Judith Viorst’s Necessary Losses (1986) is a book I have recommended many times to friends and clients over the years. If you are ready to meet an honest but encouraging guide as you move through the losses along your way toward development, she is a good one.

Judith Viorst and Alexander (still having a bad, no good day)
Judith Viorst and Alexander (still having a no good, very bad day)

Inevitable loss and glory

Now that I think it is safe to say I am officially “old,” loss cannot be as easily denied as it used to be. My also-old friends are deteriorating with me. And I find it much harder to avoid the yet-unfinished griefs and fears of childhood. There are tender scars of betrayal and failure to bump into. There are unmet needs (and my complicity in keeping them unmet) to feel. And there is the mean old world lapping at the sinking shoreline beneath my feet.

Life is wonderful and difficult at the same time! For instance, we had such a wonderful Valentine’s Day! We rehearsed all the things we like about our relationship over dinner and then found so many reasons to laugh during Mrs. Doubtfire. But it was not long before I watched myself doubt my own fire and long for some intangible thing I felt was missing in me or my life. Difficulties arise daily. As Paul would say,

I face death every day—yes, just as surely as I boast about you in Christ Jesus our Lord. — 1 Cor. 15:31

Yet in the next letter he says,

Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. — 2 Cor. 4:16-17

Death and glory travel together.

Lessons from Judith Viorst

As I prayed about these things, I remembered I wanted to recommend Necessary Losses to a client. But then I thought my inspiration might really be God encouraging me to pick the book up for myself, which I did. I thumbed through to the final page and was encouraged all over again by Viorst’s frank and hopeful view of how we develop. Here’s some of it for you:

In thinking about development as a lifelong series of necessary losses—of necessary losses and subsequent gains—I am constantly struck by the fact that in human experience opposites frequently converge. I have found that little can be understood in terms of “eithers” and “ors.” I have found that the answer to the question “Is it this or that?” is often “Both.”

That we love and we hate the same person.

That the same person—us, for instance—is both good and bad.

That although we are driven by forces that are beyond our control and awareness, we are also the active authors of our fate.

And that, although the course of our life is marked with repetition and continuity, it also is remarkably open to change.

For yes, it is true that as long as we live we may keep repeating the patterns established in childhood. It is true that the present is powerfully shaped by the past. But it also is true that the circumstances of every stage of development can shake up and revise the old arrangements. And it’s true that insight at any age can free us from singing the same sad songs again.

Thus, although our early experiences are decisive, some of these decisions can be reversed. We can’t understand our history in terms of continuity or change. We must include both.

And we can’t understand our history unless we recognize that it is comprised of both outer and inner realities. For what we call our “experiences” include not only what happens to us out there, but how we interpret what happens to us out there. A kiss is not just a kiss—it may feel like sweet intimacy; it may feel like outrageous intrusion. It may even be only a fantasy in our mind. Each of us has an inner response to the outer events of our life. We must include both.

Another set of paired opposites which tend to merge in real life are nature and nurture. For what we come into the world with—our innate qualities, our “constitutional givens”—interacts with the nurture we receive. We cannot view development in terms of either environment or heredity. We must include both.

As for our losses and gains, we have seen how often they are inextricably mixed. There is plenty we have to give up in order to grow. For we cannot deeply love anything without becoming vulnerable to loss. And we cannot become separate people, responsible people, connected people, reflective people without some losing and leaving and letting go.

I may be old, but I am still developing. Letting go of my losses is not the only way I do it. But letting go is an essential skill if we don’t want to run into a psychological and spiritual wall every day. I know this personally. Letting go of some significant losses in the past few years has opened up many new avenues for growth and love for me. My spiritual direction group helped me let go of something just last week and the freedom is still taking shape! It feels great. None of us is finished yet.

Lent would be a great season for meditating through Judith Viorst’s book and letting go of the necessary losses that lead us to resurrection after resurrection.

Lent is another both/and. It is right now and quite deliberate, but it is also a window into the losses of the past and a view into the promises of the future. It is the turning season, a yearly  invitation to move into the way of life after death: daily and eternal, out of the old self and into the new, out of the past and into the future. You may or may not feel the immediate results of your Lenten disciplines, but, come Easter, you may come to recognize you feel inwardly renewed, and you will likely come to feel the delight of sensing the glory of God unveiling your true glory.

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Today is Xi Shengmo Day! Meet one of the first modern Chinese church leaders who renamed himself “Overcomer of Demons” @ The Transhistorical Body.