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Spirituality

An Advent Collection: The Word is Still Becoming Flesh

Steve · December 12, 2024 · Leave a Comment

This past weekend, I helped lead an Advent Retreat at the Marianist Retreat and Conference Center just outside St. Louis. It was the eighth time leading this annual event (taking a year off for COVID in 2020) with my friends and colleagues Lucia Signorelli and Fr. Tom Santen.

The title of the retreat was, “The Word is Still Becoming Flesh,” and through talks, songs, prayer and even a contemplative photography experience inspired by Thomas Merton, we looked at the many and diverse ways that Jesus keeps “breaking into our lives.” And that is the power of Advent, of course. It’s not just about getting ready for Christmas and remembering that historic event that happened in Bethlehem roughly 2,000 years ago. It is about that, of course, but it’s so much more.

Advent is a time to remember that the Incarnate Word of God continues to break into our lives, day in and day out, if we will only take the time to watch. Just as the Son of God interrupted the lives of Mary, Joseph, the shepherds and so many others on one night so long ago, he keeps showing up for us even today. The question we need to keep asking, Fr. Tom challenged us, is “do you see what I see?”

I took the photo above just outside the doors of the retreat house. It’s a little hard to make out, I confess, but what it shows is a trickle of water from a fountain, which has broken through the ice of a small decorative pond. It spoke to me of God’s slow and steady work in our lives, of God’s living word that, if left flowing, will indeed break into our lives and change us in ways we can never imagine.

Today, I offer you a small sampling of advent reflections from prior years of this blog. Perhaps you will find something here that will meet you where you are in this holy season. I hope you will allow these words, and more importantly the words of scripture that accompany us these holy weeks of advent, to help you pay closer attention and perhaps find that small trickle of God that is waiting for you.   

Advent 2020: Welcome to the ‘Demented Inn’
Waiting for Christmas with Bright Eyes
Advent Week 2: Just what are we waiting for?

BOOK REVIEW: Leah Rampy’s “Earth and Soul”

Steve · May 19, 2024 · 3 Comments

Writer and retreat leader Leah Rampy pulls no punches in her new volume from Bold Story Press, “Earth and Soul: Reconnecting Amid Climate Chaos.” The earth as we know it is in a dire predicament, from which there is no easy return or solution. We are living in “edge times,” on the threshold of climate chaos and mass extinction of biodiversity and will remain there while we await a slow slipping over the edge — unless we are willing reconnect our personal lives and our spiritual selves to the world around us.   

This is not a story devoid of hope. I doubt I would have kept reading if it were. If we’re willing to face the scientific facts of the situation, see more completely the fullness and wisdom of the world around us, and embrace the spiritual angst we are feeling, there is still the possibility of pulling ourselves back from the brink. “Earth and Soul” is a soul journey (the author’s and ultimately our own) that still has inherent in it the hope of something better beyond the grief that comes with such danger and loss. In the book’s concluding chapter she writes:

Because we will never know the outcomes beyond our lifetime, we can choose to live in a story that is grounded in the real and that still offers greater possibility. Living with hope is a choice. When we choose hope, we embrace what is already unfolding and discern if and how we are called to respond. Without any illusion that the path will be easy, we choose to live more fully into our soul’s mission and offer our gifts to the world guided by the Earth’s wisdom.

Writing while standing near the intersection of spirituality, ecology and story, the author offers us a chance to journey in the direction of recovery and sanity, a map of sorts for those willing to live deeply connected to the Earth from the depth of their own souls. For the climate crisis is, she reminds us, a spiritual one. “Without attending to our own continued transformation, we cannot hope to align with the living world to create a tapestry of a beautiful future,” she writes in the book’s introduction.

The eleven short chapters in this 200-page paperback edition made for easy, slow and digestible daily reading for a few weeks. While I could have read it much quickly (it’s not a dense slog through theory and environmental science), I soon discovered that this was a book better taken in a little at a time, a reminder to myself that this kind of change (our own and the environment’s) takes time and trust, a belief that the seeming impossible is, in fact, possible. Drawing from Jesuit theologian Walter’s Burghardt’s reminder that contemplation is a, “long, loving look at the real,” this book is a call to ponder the predicament as a precursor to individual and spiritual change and action.

What is necessary for such change to begin, Rampy reminds us, is personal transformation, a movement from long-held social beliefs that the Earth and its non-human creatures are only here for our sustenance, use and often abuse, to a state of recognition that we are better off living in communion with our plant and animal “kith and kin.”

“When we declare the land inanimate,” she writes, “we ravage our souls. If we deny the vibrantly alive Earth, the breathing beings from which we evolved, the plants with all their gifts — if all those lives can be deemed resources to be pillaged, destroyed, discarded, and annihilated to satisfy our wants — then so too can people who stand in the way of achieving the ends we seek.”

“Earth and Soul” is an invitation to think, live, contemplate and act differently, as if those human actions might just make a difference, which surely they can. This book, Rampy writes, serves as “one invitation to a great turning, a return to our truest selves and a transformation of our relationship with the Earth.”

To instigate such changes, we must begin now, while we are still on the threshold, but Rampy is quick to point out that this is the work of generations, not years or decades. She relates the story of a wise prophet giving feedback to a group of volunteers who had taken some positive steps. “I think this is very good,” the prophet says. “There will likely be excellent results from this in about six hundred years.”

And that’s the point of the book, I think. There are no easy and quick answers. There are only next steps that must be taken, once we have done the hard work of reconnecting our souls to the world around us. She writes: “We will need to practice simply discerning the next step, and then the next step, and then the next, trusting the wisdom we are given without knowing the future or the results of our efforts.”

Litany on the Perfect Timing of God

Steve · May 8, 2024 · 1 Comment

I was talking on the phone last week to my friend Dave in Texas, a retired hospital chaplain and now deacon and pastor of visitation at a Methodist Church. As “men of a certain age,” we have lots in common and were reflecting on those times in our lives when, despite all odds and seeming reason, God just seemed to show up when we needed Him most. 

We both thought and said that same phrase at almost the same time: “And then God showed up.” And I thought to myself, there have certainly been a long list of those divine occurrences in my life and in the lives of those around me; I could make a list, maybe even a litany of sorts. And here you go:

I was feeling powerless and small…and then God showed up.
I was on the edge looking into the abyss…and then God showed up. 
I had no idea which way to turn…and then God showed up. 
I didn’t believe my life had purpose or meaning…and then God showed up. 
I was alone and on my own…and then God showed up. 
I ached all over and saw no end in sight…and then God showed up. 
I was up against a wall…and then God showed up. 
I couldn’t find true love anywhere…and then God showed up. 
I had been abused and unloved…and then God showed up. 
I was confused and unsure of myself…and then God showed up. 
I didn’t have the right words…and then God showed up. 
I didn’t have the courage…and then God showed up. 
I thought life would never get any better…and then God showed up. 
I had no hope…and then God showed up. 
I was uncertain if God was even real…and then God showed up. 
I was sure that God wasn’t real…and then God showed up. 
I was in so much pain…and then God showed up. 
I was in so much trouble…and then God showed up. 
I needed peace of mind and heart and soul…and then God showed up. 
I needed a friend…and then God showed up. 
I needed a savior…and then God showed up. 
I needed you…and you showed up. 
Amen and amen.

What could you add to this list?

A Total Eclipse of the Heart

Steve · April 19, 2024 · Leave a Comment

Once upon a time I was falling in love
Now I’m only falling apart.
There’s nothing I can do
A total eclipse of the heart.


– Jim Steinman

On April 8, a total solar eclipse made a diagonal cut across parts of Central and North America, with parts of 15 U.S. states within the path of totality. Here in St. Louis, we didn’t get this totality, but were in something like the ninety-ninth percentage and got enough of it to know something strange was happening. Dogs barked and crickets chirped.

Sue and I thought about driving a few hours south to be in that totality but we soon learned we’d be joining thousands and thousands of others flocking to southern Illinois to get a glimpse of this natural phenomenon through those ubiquitous cardboard dark-colored glasses. We took a pass on the expected crowds and the traffic jams and opted instead for finding a quiet place in our own front yard. There, we sat for a few hours and read while we waited for the near-darkness to come. It was time well spent. 

The day came and went and we were little changed by it, unlike the ancients who, so were are told, were so freaked out that they thought the world was surely ending. And who could blame them? 

But I’m thinking this morning that this eclipse, perhaps, is also a chance for spiritual reflection, an opportunity for us to ask if anything has gotten in between us and God. To paraphrase Jim Steinman’s song, made famous by the Welsh singer Bonnie Tyler in her 1983 single: Are we still falling in love with God or are we falling apart?

There’s a famous poem-prayer about the practicality of this “falling in love,” which is often attributed to Pedro Arrupe, SJ (1907-1991), but was actually written, we know now, by Joseph Whelan, SJ. It goes like this:

Nothing is more practical than
finding God, than
falling in Love
in a quite absolute, final way.
What you are in love with,
what seizes your imagination, will affect everything.It will decide
what will get you out of bed in the morning,
what you do with your evenings,
how you spend your weekends,
what you read, whom you know,
what breaks your heart,
and what amazes you with joy and gratitude.
Fall in Love, stay in love,
and it will decide everything.

For those who believe, that falling in love makes all the sense in the world. But we also know that it can be easy enough to fall out of it if we’re not careful and paying attention. So get out there today and experience the beauty and mystery of the world. And while you’re waiting, offer up a prayer and reflect a bit about what might be getting in the way of your love for God. What else is seizing your imagination? What’s eating up your time and energy? What’s breaking your heart and getting you up and out of bed these days?

On April 8, as the moon moved in between us and the sun once again, so many paused in amazement and wonder. Today, let’s be amazed by the God who waits patiently for us to return. Let’s accept that invitation to fall in love once again. After all, nothing is more practical than that.

Right in Front of Our Eyes

Steve · July 6, 2023 · 8 Comments

Once when I was a boy I was trying to find something — I don’t remember now what it was — but this thing ended up being right there on the table in front of me. My father laughed as he pointed it out to me and said, “If it had been a snake, it would have bitten you.”

As a child, that metaphor scared me a little. What IF it had been a snake? What IF I hadn’t seen it there on the table, hiding among my father’s copies of National Geographic and Organic Gardening, slithering toward me between his overflowing ashtray and transistor radio? I learned to look closely around me for the things I was searching for before I started asking for help. Lesson learned: pay attention to the obvious and the close at hand.

In our search for God, sometimes the same thing happens. We miss the obvious moments and occurrences of the Divine because we’re frantically searching for something “out there,” something that is big and splashy and without-a-doubt “God,” when all the time there are these small, ordinary experiences that we’re missing, hidden among the ordinary stuff of life.

Finding God in our daily lives does not require special abilities or tools. We do not have to be particularly holy, although focusing our minds on the holy around us can be a good place to begin. What is required is our intention — a desire and willingness to pay attention to the life we have been given and find God already there waiting for us, beckoning to us, laughing at us and saying, “If I had been a snake…”

I recently wrote a new song on this theme, this idea that God is “right there,” always in front of our eyes. God doesn’t hide from us. God is always waiting to be found, always delighted when we slow down, pay attention and utter those sacred words: “Ah…there you are.”

Here are the lyrics to the song, and a new video is below (you may have to scroll a little). Thanks to my musical collaborator Phil Cooper for the beautiful piano arrangement and to my talented daughter, Jenny, for creating the vocal arrangement and singing with me. In the midst of the creation of this song I found God again — in the act of creation, in the gift of words and music, in the chemistry that happens when we gather together to create something new.

There you are, there you are
in the green that clothes the trees
There you are, there you are
in the very least of these.

Some days I rise but do not waken.
Sometimes I look but fail to see.
And still, you move and catch my eye
A flash of red, a moment fleeting.

In all the noise I cannot hear you.
In all my words I miss your voice.
And still, a whisper fills my head
A gentle beating, inside of me.

Today I saw you on the street
With all you own spread out around you.
And still, a spirit in your smile
A soul on fire, a gift before me.

There You Are
Words and music by Steve Givens
© 2023 Potter’s Mark Music

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About the Author

Steve Givens is a retreat and spiritual director and a widely published writer on issues of faith and spirituality. He is also a musician, composer and singer who lives in St. Louis, Mo., with his wife, Sue. They have two grown and married children and five grandchildren.

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