Steve

Today’s Word: Afraid

Steve · July 27, 2014 · 8 Comments

Jonathan & tombstone — My son Jon, around 1988, at my parents' grave. SJG photo.

One of the most often-repeated statements in the Bible is some version of “Be not afraid,” and it is usually said to humans when they are about to encounter the divine. “Don’t be afraid,” the angel says, “it’s just something you’ve never seen before, something you can’t fathom, something that will both scare you and change your life. That’s all.”

What God says with “be not afraid” is not, “don’t worry, everything will always be okay. Your children will always be safe, your parents will never die, and you will always be healthy.” That’s not the fear and hurt from which God delivers us. That would be an empty promise, indeed, for we all know that those heart-rending moments are a part of life. The fear that God delivers us from is the fear of being alone and helpless when these things happen. That life is fragile and always ends in physical death and separation from those we love is one of the harshest realities we learn.

But “be not afraid” offers hope and a glimpse behind the temporal confines of life and death. “Be not afraid” says there is more, and that “more” is grace-filled love, mercy and a new kind of life that doesn’t end and bring grief. “Be not afraid” asks us to look beyond what we can see and believe beyond what we cannot see. “Be not afraid” suggests that we grasp the hand of God when it is offered, which is always and everywhere, even and especially at the depths of our worry and fear.

None of this is easy, but we never have to go it alone, and through Christ we can possess a hope and a faith that leads us to a different kind of beyond.

Ask yourself in silence: What am I afraid of? (Really, make a list.) Which of these things are beyond the touch and love of God?

Today’s Word: Quiet

Steve · July 25, 2014 · 4 Comments

Tree — Standing quiet sentinel. SJG Photo.

We live in a world where we really have to purposefully “unplug” and plan our days accordingly if we want to find even a moment or two of silence. Unless we live far away from the human-driven noise pollution of the cities and suburbs, these moments of quiet can be hard to come by. And because we don’t experience them often, we sometimes forget what to do with silence when we finally find ourselves in the midst of it. Quiet can drive us crazy if we don’t see it coming. Some folks can’t stand to NOT have the TV or radio on because they need something to tell them that they are alive and not alone.

But if we can learn to nurture quiet in our lives and seek it out on a regular basis, we can allow ourselves to be embraced by it and all that it holds. And what does it hold? It holds a better realization of our most authentic selves. It holds the opportunity to listen to our own hearts beating and feel the breathing in and breathing out of our very beings. It holds awareness of God, of the One who was and is and always will be, the One who sees and knows us just as we are and welcomes and loves us anyway. It holds a message of meaning and purpose and call. It holds everything that matters, but only if we can quiet ourselves enough to listen.

Ask yourself in silence: What’s the role of quiet in my life? Do I run from it or embrace it?

Today’s Word: Enough

Steve · June 29, 2014 · 5 Comments

We seem to live in a world of “never enough.” That’s certainly what television, movies and advertising tell us. No matter how much we have, a little (or a lot) more would be better. We are told over and over (whether we think we’re listening or not): “You will never be truly fulfilled and happy until you get that one job, that one car, that one house. Then you’ll be happy and have all you need.”

Except it’s all a lie created to make us want even more. There’s no way out of that cycle of greed and “not enough” if we stay inside it. Those who create it make sure of that. If we’re not careful, if we don’t learn to find our “enough” in something that lasts, there will always be something knocking on the door of our hearts saying, “more, more, better, better.”

But we do, in fact, have access to enough. Henri Nouwen wrote that he often prayed a prayer of St. Teresa of Avila: “Solo Dios bastia.” (“God alone is enough.”) Praying these words slowly and out loud helped him enter into God’s presence, he wrote, “where there is peace and certainty that God is always with me and loves me.” (Nouwen, Discernment, p. 27). The whole text of Teresa’s prayer is:

Let nothing disturb you.
Let nothing frighten you.
Those who cling to God
will lack nothing.
Let nothing disturb you.
Let nothing frighten you.
God alone is enough.

Or, if you like your poetry a little more modern, how about these words from contemporary worship songwriter Chris Tomlin?

All of you is more than enough for all of me.
For every thirst and every need.
You satisfy me with your love.
And all I have in you is more than enough.

This is the call and challenge of the Christian life, to find in God — Father, Son and Spirit — all that we need, our daily bread and cup of sustenance. For our thirst and hunger for the “more” of this world can only truly be filled by the One who transcends all time, the One who brought all into being and continues to move and work among us.

Ask yourself in silence: What “enough” do I need to let go of so I can cling more firmly to the “enough” that God offers freely and completely?

Today’s Word: Fallow

Steve · June 22, 2014 · 13 Comments

Yesterday I shared with my spiritual direction peer supervision group that the last month or so I have experienced a lack of energy to do the things I really want to do. Following a period of intense prayer and productivity (I just finished a nine-month Ignatian 19^th annotation retreat and a graduate program in spiritual direction) I was experiencing difficulty and dryness in both prayer and writing.

At that point, one of my wise colleagues pointed out the need to “remain fallow” once in a while, to step back from even the best of things in order to replenish ourselves. When I looked up the definition of fallow, I was amazed at how well it matched my own situation:

Fallow: Plowed and harrowed but left unsown for a period in order to restore its fertility as part of a crop rotation or to avoid surplus production.

The truth is, I all too often equate my spiritual health with what I am “doing.” How many blog posts? How many pages in my journal? How’s that book project coming along? The planning for next fall’s retreat? These are all important things that need to get done, but they need to flow from my “down time” with God. They are the result of silence and prayer, not the source.

What I’ve come to realize is that it’s okay to not be productive for a while (and that’s a tough one for me). It’s okay to simply sit “fallow” with God in prayer, without agenda or even words, knowing that God is plowing and harrowing me, leaving me unsown in order to restore my fruitfulness at the time only God controls. God’s work, God’s time.

Ask yourself in silence: Do I need to make some time to just “be” with God?

Today’s Word: Plant

Steve · June 15, 2014 · 16 Comments

basil — Basil-pesto-pasta-party. All in good time.

As a child, I watched my father plant his annual vegetable garden in our backyard in urban north St. Louis. It wasn’t a big garden (perhaps 15×30 feet), but he went about the whole thing methodically and with a sense of hope for what the garden would bring. For that’s what planting a garden is all about – it’s about hope and faith, about knowing that when we plant a seed or put a small plant in the ground it will eventually become so much more.

I’ve never been much of a gardener, although something within me desperately wants to be. But about a month ago I planted a tomato plant and some herbs (basil and oregano) in containers on our back deck, the place we most like to spend time during the summer. And as I planted and watered, I realized that what I was most looking forward to was the feast – I looked ahead to that day when I would turn the basil into pesto, make one of my favorite pasta dishes, and then cut open a beautiful ripe tomato and garnish it with some fresh oregano. I saw beyond the plants to a table surrounded by friends savoring the meal. That’s the beauty of growing your own food, even on such a small scale. What we plant, we get to enjoy and share.

And so it is with all good things we bring into our lives. We get to choose these things. We decide what goes in our favorite places and how much time we will give them. But it’s our responsibility to choose well, to select things that bring long-term joy, that do no harm, that create life and shared experiences with others. On numerous occasions in the Gospels, Jesus uses the metaphor of the seed to remind us of all that is good and all that comes from him. The kingdom of God — which lives in our hearts right now and extends into our eternal future — is a seed that must be planted and cared for. It is the word of God and the body of Christ in all its forms (scripture, family, community, Eucharist) that lives and grows around us, moving us always toward a feast that we cannot quite imagine and yet continue to hope and long for.

Ask yourself in silence: What am I planting in my life that will lead to a feast?