Steve

Today’s Word: Labyrinth

Steve · September 15, 2013 · 8 Comments

Yesterday, while at an ecumenical day of reflection for spiritual directors, I had the opportunity to walk a labyrinth at Mercy Center in St. Louis. I’ve heard and read about labyrinths, but this was my first time experiencing one. Unlike an English garden maze, which I have experienced (and it was frustrating and a little scary…) a labyrinth offers only one path and it’s not out to trick you or get you lost. There are no high hedges to hem you in, only parallel rows of white rocks and a mulched walkway. There’s only one way in and one way out. So setting my own pace and simply following the path, I was moved — however rambling — toward the labyrinth’s peaceful center under a tree.

There’s nothing inherently mystical or sacred about a labyrinth, for it’s the intention and attention of the walker that makes the path holy. But I found it to be a gentle, guiding tool for meditation on the movement of God in my life, a meaningful melding of the spiritual and the physical.

labyrinth1 — Labyrinth at Mercy Center, St. Louis. SJG photo

It is, of course, an apt metaphor for our spiritual journey, for only by continuing to walk and trusting the path we are on and its Creator can we reach the center where God waits for us, patient as a friend and lover. And like the labyrinth, God is not out to trick us or set traps for us, for when following the way of Christ (“I am the way, the truth and the life…”) we do not need to worry about which way to turn, as long as we keep to the path. The call of the labyrinth, like the call of God, is to quiet our minds, to trust our steps and to move ever forward to the center, the unmoving mover of all.

Ask yourself in silence: Do I trust the path I am walking? If not, am I on the wrong path?

Today’s Word: Pilgrim

Steve · September 14, 2013 · 1 Comment

rock1 — Life isn't a destination. SJG photo

To be on a journey as a pilgrim — whether real or metaphorical, whether alone or with others — is to walk with the certainty that we are walking a road that many others have travelled before us. And so we are never alone, guided as we are by this communion of saints and common souls— this ragamuffin band — and led by the footprints, signs and traces of all who have come before us.

The wisdom we seek on this journey, while perhaps contained in the writings and experiences of these prior pilgrims, can really only be found by walking the journey and allowing the knowledge to seep into our deepest being. And there we begin to make some sense of the trip, with all its twists and turns, dead ends, false avenues and strange forks in the road. Wisdom lies in our lived and contemplated experiences of our own unique journeys. Wisdom comes in reflection, in the integration of the multitude of our sacred moments with all that we have read and heard. For faith comes through listening, through hearing the sacred word of God in scripture and in the stories of those who walk with us and before us.

A stone in the labyrinth, Mercy Center, St. Louis. SJG photo (click to view larger)

Ask yourself in silence: Am I paying attention to the journey I am on? Am I noticing the turns and watching for the signs that lead me to an abundance of life in God?

Today’s Word: Night

Steve · September 12, 2013 · 2 Comments

Last night I spent the night as the only person in the Ignatius House Jesuit Retreat Center outside of Atlanta. I arrived in the evening so I would be ready to present a retreat today to a group of (what turned out to be) inspiring, incredibly open and courageous cancer patients, along with their supportive family and friends and some dedicated and equally inspiring caregivers and pastoral care workers. More on that tomorrow. But last night I found myself all alone in the big ole rambling place. “Sounds creepy,” said Sue and our daughter Jenny on the phone. But it was just the kind of silence and darkness that I needed. Night — especially a dark and quiet night out in the country — often gives focus to my prayer and pulls my thoughts to God more intensely because the dark and the silence block out the noise and light of the world. So I was not feeling creepy but, rather, deeply.

I wandered the halls a little. I sat in the small chapel for an hour and a half reading, praying and working on the next day’s talks. I sat out on a balcony and watched a spider spin a web. Midnight was approaching and I could have stayed up much later; would have if not for the knowledge that I had to get up early to begin my day. I reluctantly turned in, but not before offering a prayer to the Creator of the night — the artist of darkness and the composer of exquisite silence.

A Night Prayer

Under the veil of dark
I turn to you, Lord
To illuminate the night
To lighten my mind
To enlighten my soul
To recall my day
To find your movements
To begin to begin again
To anticipate tomorrow
To live in hope.

Ask yourself in silence: Do you find God in the darkness and quiet of the night? Do you take the time to review your day in the evening and prepare for the next day?

Today’s Word: Rain

Steve · September 8, 2013 · 2 Comments

Today’s word is rain because, well, it’s raining. I’m up early this morning after a late night out with my band, and I’m sitting in my favorite chair next to an open door. The early morning breeze is cool and a gentle rain has been falling for the past hour or so. Off in the distance thunder rumbles. This rain, hitting off the deck outside the door and splashing noiselessly into the thirsty earth, today speaks to me of prayer and the presence of God.

St. Ignatius once described our interaction with the Spirit as “lightly and gently, like a drop of water that enters into a sponge.” Think of the gentleness of that; it’s barely noticeable until we are filled. Without the Spirit, we are an empty shell of being, dry and useless, just taking up space. But when we open ourselves to the Spirit, when we set ourselves out in the rain, so to speak, we can be filled, inundated, inebriated even by the gentle yet powerful presence of God. Then we become more that we could ever become on our own, filled with joy and purpose and ready to serve others.

Ask yourself in silence: Do I make time to “set myself out in the rain?” Am I willing to empty myself of my own desires in order to be filled by the Spirit of God?

Today’s Word: Watching

Steve · September 7, 2013 · Leave a Comment

Watching for the Other. SJG photo

“Vocatus Atque Non Vocatus Deus Aderit.” (“Bidden or not bidden, God is present.”)
– Dutch theologian, humanist and priest Desiderius Erasmus

What does it say about us that we spend our lives looking for something that cannot be seen? How many times have I said or written, “watch for the movement of God in your life?” Some might think it means I’m a little off my rocker, or perhaps that I’m well intentioned but, of course, dead wrong. Foolish. Sadly mistaken. In some ways, I guess I can see their point. I might be wrong, after all. Perhaps there is no God to be found. No God to be seen or present in our lives.

So why waste my breath or blog space talking about all this God stuff and God’s movement in our lives? Because I can fathom no other way of living a loving, creative life. Because this “God,” this “other” keeps showing up in my life and in the lives of those around me. Because — rooted in divine love and the example of Christ — we choose to live lives of faith, hope and love, lives that take us beyond ourselves and embed us in the love and grace of the unmoved mover and the giver of life. We choose life in Christ, we choose belief in God, because we know it to be true by our own experiences. We know it somewhere deep.

God is not just a good idea, created by humans to indulge and comfort us. Neither is God “out there.” God — bidden or not bidden — is here and now, and if we are watchful we will catch glimpses of the Other as we walk and work through life. So we slow down, we pay attention, and we wait for those fleeting, sacred glances that sustain.

Ask yourself in silence: Do I watch for God in my life? When did I last see God?