Jesus writing in the sand

Drawing by Mary Grace Thul

Ever wonder that Jesus never left his disciples and followers and faithful friends anything in writing?  The only time we hear of Jesus writing at all, he is writing in sand. Hardly a way to leave a legacy.

But perhaps that is Jesus way of telling us, his spirit and his message is not static, cannot be held on to by pen and paper, is not something any amount of words can capture and accurately portray for all time.

We know that even the gospel writers give us different images of Jesus. These images are reflective of their own understanding of who Jesus is at the time of their writing. Had they written another account many years later, who knows how they might have portrayed him.

So, if the image of the gospels keep Jesus static, how do we come to know him in truth?

By taking that picture and making it come alive for myself through a living friendship, a growing understanding, a personal relationship. I need to integrate Jesus into my very life through a spiritual vision that goes beyond. As I do that, my image will change, and I will come to know Jesus in stages, just as I learn about anyone else. And in time, my Jesus will cease to be a printed word, and become an authentic person.

Do not be content with the gospel image of Jesus or your will have a stunted spiritual life. Take Jesus out of the pages and bring him into your own heart and soul. Your understanding and perceptions will grow, even as life does.

Becoming an instrument of peace

We read it, we sing it, and we say it. Make me an instrument of your peace. If the popularity of these words proves anything, it is that our desire for peace is strong.

But how do we become that instrument? As amazing as it may sound, we do so when we are living our spiritual beliefs as authentically as we can.

It is like the sail on a boat. It can't move the boat until a wind comes along. The sail cannot produce the wind. It can only hang in readiness for it, catching it when it finally blows.

So too is God's grace. Sometimes the more I try to bring peace, the more I alienate others. But when I let God reign in my heart, when my concern is not how others are living, but how I am, then the spirit of God leads me, and the hand of God guides me. And God makes me the instrument.

The mouth of the just person utters wisdom, and her tongue speaks what is right says psalm 36:30. You will see God using you as an instrument when you let go of trying to be one. It is the strangest phenomenon. When my eyes are fixed on spiritual things, when I have stopped trying to manage life, God steps in and uses me. I don't have to plot and plan my words. They will flow out from me, through the spirit living within. I will be as surprised as any other when I hear some of the words that come out of my mouth. And I will be in awe at how God’s works.

So when you pray, Lord, make me an instrument of your peace, know you will be one, in Divine grace, in a life lived wholly for higher things, and in simplicity of heart. Just let the sails of your faith be unfurled, and the spirit of God will catch it and send you forth.

Living transformed

What is the purpose of living a spiritual life if not to seek spiritual transformation? And just as we can tell a healthy diet by the effects it has on our lives, so too, should an authentic spiritual life show forth on how we live.

We read in Exodus 34:29 that when Moses came down from Mount Sinai, he was not aware that his face was radiant because he had spoken with the Lord. And, the story goes on, every time he spoke with the Lord (who incidentally, came to him in a cloud) his face shone again.

The interesting part of this story is that Moses face did not shine when he spoke about the Lord, or while performing sacred acts. Only when he spent time speaking to God was he transformed by that conversation.

This certainly urges us to learn the art of conversation with the Divine Being. All the books we can read, all the conversations we can have with others are no substitute for a personal conversation with Divinity. And, like the story of Moses, our transformation will not be so much evident to ourselves as it will to those who know us.

Would not it be wonderful if someone grabbed your arm and said, "Tell me your secret, for I see a peace and tranquility in your that I want for myself. Tell me how it is that you have so much faith and hope." And, like Moses, we can reply, "I have spoken with the Divine Being, and it has caused this transformation."

Moment of grace

Clouds break and bend light rays to expose color

The Southeast is experiencing an unusual weather pattern. While the rest of the US wilts with record heat, central Alabama is enjoying cooler and damper days. For a person very much affected by the sun’s rays, I find this a mixed blessings. I enjoy the cooler temps, but I would love to bask in the sunlight. Still, this being Alabama, I know the sun will shine again.

This reminds me of life itself. I’d like the sun to shine continually on my spiritual life as well. I’d like the way to be smooth and clear, and the challenges few and far between. But life isn’t so easily managed.

Bede Jarrett writes: Faith is the basis of life, and charity is its crown; but hope is its greatest need. Most of the difficulties of life come because we are so prone to lose heart.

I like the thought that many of our difficulties come because of our tendency to lose heart. That means life would be just a little easier if we kept in mind the working of grace. This means remembering that no matter what happens, all things work together for good for those who love God (Romans 8:28).

This one verse alone could calm our anxieties. We would look upon reverses, calamities, and setbacks not in the light of broken lives and disappointments, but with the knowledge that no matter what, God can and will bring something good from this situation.

To keep hope, then, is to keep one's face turned toward the light, and know that however dark the cloud that obscures it, the sun will break forth once more. It is not a fantasy that keeps one detached about life, but a solid belief that with every event comes a special grace. Hope is more than looking forward. It is a way of accepting life itself, with trust and certainty about the goodness of the Divine Being.

Living free in the liberty of Divine grace

The search for a true spiritual identity is ultimately a search for authenticity. Such a search includes honesty, genuineness, and transparency with ourselves.

Such honestly is difficult to come by. Somehow, we have imbibed the culture that admires strength, perfection and cleanliness of soul. We think this is true discipleship. But I would argue, it is not.

One has only to read through the gospels to see the type of people Jesus preferred. They were not the religious of his day, those who obeyed the law and kept the Sabbath holy. Jesus sought out the outcast, the rejected of society, and the humble. Have you ever questioned why? I think it is because they were aware of their own woundedness, and therefore were more authentic and genuine than their counterparts. They were not concerned with keeping up appearances because in truth, they had none.

Such transparency is hard for me. I, too, want to appear as upright, spiritual and strong. But I also dwell in the realm of the wounded, the imperfect, the soul who struggles even as she seeks. It is as if we live a double life, one of outward cleanliness but of inward battles. My challenge is not to broadcast my struggle to the world; but to be aware of it myself, accepting my own imperfect soul.

Authenticity of this kind offers us such wonderful fruits: compassion for my fellow men and women, a wonderful trust that can stand before Divinity in her true state and know it is my intentions, not my perfections, that counts, and a freedom from fear. Authenticity is really the only true spiritual way to God. It neither discounts or exaggerates one's human status. And, as St. Augustine says in his famous rule, it allows one to truly live free, in the liberty of Divine Grace.

The gift of God

If you but knew the gift of God... The words come to my mind often. In hindsight I am quick to see the gifts given, the obstacle that forced me to make a choice, to move on, or to turn around; the long darkness that taught me to seek God within instead of outside myself. The seemingly insignificant voice in my head that, when followed, proved to be a blessing. Yes, as they say, hindsight is 20/20.

But why do I wait for hindsight? Can I not see the gift of God, here and now? And do I always have to be the beneficiary to see it as a gift? Perhaps this incident, this occasion is given to me so that another may have a gift. Perhaps I am meant to be their gift, by being there at the right time, or missing out so another may have.

It comes back to vision, and how we perceive. I like to think of the gift of God as something that benefits myself. I need to broaden my vision and remember the whole people of God, those outside my little sphere. I need to trust more, so that I can believe in the gift before I make sense of it, or without needing it to please me.

It is all part of my pilgrim journey.

On the road to Emmaus

No where do we see our perception challenged as we do in the story of the road to Emmaus. We see the disciples walking back to their home town, discouraged after seeing the events of Jesus death and burial, wondering where all their hope has lead them. In the midst of this discussion, Jesus walks up to them. Despite the fact that they are talking about him, despite the fact that they had lived and worked with him, they do not recognize him.

What does this story tell us? Here are two disciples talking about Jesus, and when he comes into their midst, they do not know him. And so, what does Jesus do? He walks along with them, and joins in their discussion. He is to them what they think he is, a stranger.

I've often wondered if Jesus is to us what we think of him. If we treat him like a stranger, then he remains a stranger to us. If we treat him as a friend, then he becomes our friend. If we want him to be judge, then he is our judge, and if we want him to be savior, he is our savior.

Nowhere else can we so influence a relationship. Jesus, for whatever reason, approaches us as he is, but lets us see him as we believe. He is to us what we imagine. I find this thought fascinating, and something to ponder. It makes me examine the gospel story of the road to Emmaus carefully.

Jesus remained hidden to the two disciples all day long. Even though they talked about him, even though their hearts burned as he opened scripture and enlightened them to the words and meaning of the prophets, they did not recognize him. How we are so like these disciples! We busy ourselves with church, with functions, with sacraments and doctrine, and still we do not recognize. We carry out good deeds, read timely works, and pray. And yet we often keep Jesus a stranger to our hearts.

The disciples on the way only ‘saw’ Jesus when they treated him as a friend, invited him to "stay with us, for it is nearly evening, and the day is far spent." Or, better put, only when they made that stranger their friend, could Jesus then be that friend. He would not force recognition on them. He did not chide them for not seeing. He waited, and watched, and let them invite.

Such thoughts beg the question, what is my image of Jesus? Because Jesus will be that image to me.