Light and darkness in a new way

How often do we see darkness as evil and light as God. And yet, scripture would tell us, it ain’t always so. There are times when the darkness we experience is actually good, a time of rest and rejuvenation. Conversely, there are times when light is not God, but scorching heat and even subtle pride.

Psalm 121:6 speaks to this time: The sun shall not smite you in the day, nor the moon at night. These words infer that light can be harmful at times, times when I put a lot of trust in myself, my own reflections, my own inspirations, and forget that I am and always will remain wounded. And that seems to be the problem.

I think we people of faith tend to struggle between feeling unworthy and forgetting that I remain wounded no matter how strong my faith. It is for me to strike a balance between the two. First of all, I do not need to become "worthy" in God's eyes. I only need to go forward in trust, a humble trust that remembers always, I am a vulnerable being.

As Christians, we are often taunted by the same words used against Christ and Jeremiah, "If he is God's chosen one, surely God will save him." I bet some of us have even spoken those words to ourselves. And yet, how wrong they are! I should replace them with the words of psalm 23:4 Even if I walk in the dark valley I fear no evil, for you are with me with your rod and staff, that give me courage.

This is the truth, that for a believer, neither darkness nor light will harm. Because both have gifts to offer, both have advantages, both bring grace, if I accept my vulnerability.

Are you willing to look ungrateful?

Though it is easier to paddle with two, you can paddle alone...

Unless you hate father and mother, brother and sister, even your own life, you cannot be my disciple (Lk 14: 25). Such words of Jesus sound harsh, especially since it is Jesus himself who said we must love our enemies! As such, I think this phrase from Luke deserves some thought and a bit of pondering.

I think we can all remember a decision we struggled making because of those it might hurt. We knew what we should do. Yet, when we looked at how that decision might affect those around us, we stopped and hesitated. And sometimes we failed to move beyond that point.

I think this is what Jesus meant when he said the words we find in Luke 14. I don't believe Jesus is asking for us to turn on the people we owe gratitude. I think he is reminding us that the ultimate gratitude is to God, and that when anyone comes between us and God, we should remember these words.

I know how hard this can be. I stayed in a monastery for many years because I feared to disappoint. I feared to disappoint my fellow religious by leaving, I feared to disappoint my family by changing roles. I even feared disappointing my God by failing to keep promises made when I was very young. I thought such a decision would be disastrous for me.

It took wonderful mentors and a great deal of self-reflection before I realized what God had been trying to tell me all along. The signs were all there. I failed to see them because I was too fearful about how “others” would feel. It was only after I learned to "hate" my fears that I found the courage to act. And God did not disappoint.

I am sure I am not alone in this story. Every one of us have individuals we owe, people who sacrificed for us. Fearing to hurt them can immobilize our soul, keeping us from growing in grace and in God. Jesus would have us go forward, even if it means leaving them behind, even if it means they do not understand, even if it means looking ungrateful.

I think this is what Jesus is saying as recorded in Luke 14.

Taking a Risk

Taking a chance

Sometimes when I hear familiar passages from the Gospels, I think we've got it all wrong. For example, take the story of the Prodigal Son. It seems pretty straightforward. Squander your livelihood, and you'll end up crawling back begging for forgiveness.

 

Yet, having read this story for years, I’ve finally come to realize a different interpretation. I think the story is really about each one of us, and how God gives us an inheritance and sets us free to follow the desires of our hearts. The message is not that such adventure is sinful, but that not all adventures turn out right. Best of all, God does not expect us to get it right the first time. Instead, God waits for us every time. God is there when we need to return and think again. Furthermore, if the prodigal had never gone away and seen life from a different perspective, he would never have come to really know his father. Knowing that father took the honesty of acknowledging he'd made a mistake. And as the story so dramatically portrays, the Father didn't love him less for that, but more.

I sometimes think our tidied up religion keeps us from seeing the reality of life. We cannot live within a structure that keeps us from all harm. That isn't living; that is slavery. To venture forth means to deal with life as it really is, with choices that may not turn out well, and decisions that need revisiting. And at some point, we will find ourselves “robbed,” we will end up on a dead end road, and we will feel betrayed by what we thought was our own best selves. But that is not the end of story (like time now to crawl back and beg for forgiveness). As the story tells us, that is a part of our journey.

I know only too many who, for fear of making a mistake, continue in a false life. They live according to what others tell them, and do not risk change because it is an “unknown.” Such lives offer no challenges. They progress on "more of the same." A life with security, but no growth, where expectations can be met, and no surprise will throw them off guard. Yet, they are some of the most unhappy people I know.

The prodigal son took a chance at life. And in the end, he grew. What am I willing to chance for spiritual growth?

Value in Loss

Finding value in loss

It is true, that we appreciate something more after we lose it than when we had it in hand. I can think of countless examples in my own life, as I am sure you can too. There is no denying that losing somehow awakens new insights and thoughts in us. Looking back we find an appreciation, even a longing for that which was. This is true even if while we possessed it, we grumbled at our possession.

I don't know why this is, that loss makes us appreciate more. But applying that fact to life, perhaps we can find something good from suffering and trials. For what is suffering and trials but a removal of some of our peace and tranquility, a loss of what was? Perhaps (and I say perhaps) some of our suffering allows us to develop a different view of life, a view that includes greater insights. Perhaps we endure so that we can become more transformed.

It's just a thought, hoping to bring something good to the pain we endure in life. For it is true that if we can understand something better, if we can find that little bit of good that can come out of sorrow, it lessens the pain somewhat  It gives it a value.

Facing the mystery until it opens

Who is your God? That is sort of the question I ask myself continually. My God is constant, but my understanding of God is forever changing.

In the past I made my faith a matter of believing in mysteries, and told myself that it was impossible to understand, that I must just accept. Such an attitude robbed me of developing a better understanding of my God. Because when I believe I can't know, I don't search.

Sometimes I thought that understanding and knowing God was a matter of deep theology, something academic, agonizing, only open to intellectuals. As though God were some kind of snob that only an elite few can know.

I have thrown those views out of my life. I decided that to understand God better I need to search. I believe searching implies stepping back, not stepping up. It requires not so much a willingness to dig into the mysteries in search of knowledge as it does a watching that discoveries a personality. And just as we form friendships over time, so too, the mystic gaze allows us to "know" God over time, and understand God with the eye of the soul, which is different than knowing God with the mind. For if it is true of anyone, it is true of God, to know God is to love God.

To know God, I must face mystery until it opens.

Strong enough to Fear

The Feast of Epiphany. I've always thought of it as journey, as light shining through the darkness, as revelation. And it is all of those things. But something else is on my mind this morning as I sit here and write.

It started a couple days ago, on January 1 to be exact. One friend had gone out of state to visit family. My other friend had flown back to Europe to return to her community. I was here alone, and feeling the loneliness keenly. I decided to go to the movies, researched the nearby theater, and chose Wild. It was about a young woman hiking the PCT, and the reviews were promising. I watched it and was enthralled. So enthralled that I bought the memoir by Cheryl Strayed so that I could read it in its entirety. I was not disappointed.

A couple passages from the memoir stood out to me, but one really impressed me. It was written after the writer had completed a great portion of her intended journey. She had faced bears, rattlesnakes, and snow. She had learned a great deal, as she writes "Perhaps by now I'd come far enough that I had the guts to be afraid." (pg. 229) What an awesome thought. Guts enough to be afraid.

It begs the question....am I gutsy enough be afraid? Or am I constantly trying to convince myself that I am not? Face fear and fear will go away I'd been told repeatedly at the monastery.

Maybe not all fear needs to be overcome. Perhaps some fear just needs to be accepted, because we are strong enough to carry it. Like the packpack Strayed carried over 1,000 miles.

Like the Magi who scripture says got lost as they traveled many miles from the East.

Like you going along on your journey of life.

Like me, still finding my way.