The Powerful Presence

I have always loved psalm 27, especially verse 4: One thing I ask of the Lord, this I seek, to dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life.

You have to understand why this psalm meant so much to me. I lived in a monastery, and my life flowed with the rhythm of silence, prayer, and meditation. When I prayed those words, I meant them literally.

But then life happened, and my life within the House of the Lord became jeopardized. I said this prayer with greater intensity, as my one request truly became for the grace to stay put, always. Despite these longings, despite my desire, my health deteriorated, and I watched with increasing hopelessness as my “house of the lord” slipped away through my fingers.

In the end, the Lord did not grant my request. No answers came, and I had to accept my fate, that monastic life did not suit my personality, my temperament, or my needs. I left the community and the monastic way of life with a heavy heart. I grieved my loss for years, grieved that I no longer lived in the “House of the Lord.”  I believed this loss irretrievable.

As the years have passed, those words from psalm 27 continued to haunt me. And I've come to understand a number of things. I've come to realize that the House of the Lord is precious because of Presence. I realize that it is Presence that fills a choir or a church. It is Presence that I can sense when on monastic grounds. I can bring that same Presence into my own life. When I do, I make a sacred space within my own heart and soul. Then, my apartment, my car, or a walk in nature becomes for me, the House of the Lord. And I can dwell in that House all the days of my life.

That is now my goal. To remember. To make room for sacred space. And because I now understand Presence, I no longer grieve. I have not lost. I still have the "House of the Lord" with me wherever I go.

Where to find Divinity

Would we ever be content to only see rainbows in books? Would we forgo the feel of rain, the awesome sight of sunrises or sunsets, or the smell of flowers? Would we be content to know intelligently about falling in love and never want to experience it for real? I think not.

So why are we too often content to let our experience of God be totally abstract?

If you and I want to have a valid experience of God, we must do more than give ourselves to verbal prayer and silent meditation. We need to step outside of our comfort zone. We need to find our God through works of charity, giving, not with money, but with heart and time. We need to be willing to get our hands dirty, let our hearts feel the brokenness of others, and offer them a real hand.

Consider: the God who created us was not content to know the human condition from afar. The second person of the Godhead stepped into our lives and experienced all that we experience, all of it, including loneliness, pain, and rejection. He did not disdain to reach out and touch the poor, the sick, or the socially outcast.

God invites us to do the same. God would have us step out and find Divinity within the person, event, or circumstance of the moment. In return, our souls are opened and the bounty of love contained therein is unleashed. For in truth, we are the ones who benefit the most from these deeds.

If we would experience the Divine in our lives, we must not be content with a clean and sanitized spirituality. Let us get down and get dirty by taking time to actually perform acts of kindness. Let us disrupt our schedule to help someone else. For when we do, we do not just bring the Divine goodness to that person. We release it from our own inner prison.

Walking where no one wants to tread

Come. It was one simple word. And Peter got out of the boat and walked on water (Mt 14:29).

Much as been said about this incident as told in the gospels. It begs the question, how far will I go to follow my beliefs?

Jesus often invites me to “come” and step forward. What holds me back? For one, I tend to stay with what is secure, what is familiar. I might even question, what did Peter accomplish by stepping out of the boat? He grew afraid and began to sink. And Jesus had to reach out and save him. What kind of faith is that?

But that is precisely the point. Peter did not hesitate to move, and when he needed Jesus, he was there. Stepping forward toward the Divine does not negate fear or failure…it simple helps me go deeper in my relationship with God.

Faith should never reach a plateau. And to keep my faith active and alive, there will be times when I am invited to step out. As a follower of Jesus, those times will probably come as an inner whisper echoing in my heart, come!  It is then I have a choice: stay in the security of my boat, or be willing to step out onto the fluid waters with hope. If I begin to sink, well, I know Jesus is somewhere near. I must realize that sinking is not the danger...staying in the boat and waiting for something to happen is.

For faith bids me to believe that I will find that treasure I am searching for...the destiny planned for me from all eternity. All that has gone before me has prepared me for a particular moment. I must not put it off, waiting for the perfect time. Peter stepped out of the boat in a raging storm! So, when the whisper of God is in my heart, and I hear the invitation come, I must go for it.

If my faith is not changing, then I am not growing

Spring and seeds. A time for new life. Who doesn't get excited at the opportunity to plant. Why? I think it comes down to rejuvenation and hope in this season, hope and a new release on life.

Jesus speaks of faith being a seed sown in our souls. I have been thinking of that quite a bit of late, and these are my thoughts.

Seeds are meant to be transformed. If a seed does not become transformed, it rots where it is planted. Granted, a seed needs water, sun and good soil. But once it has these things, it will show amazing power, even to cracking sidewalks or pavement, as though nothing can keep it from growing and reaching up.

Faith should be like that. Faith should be ever growing, not in trite things such as knowledge of doctrine, but in understanding of the spirit behind these things. If what I believed last year is exactly the same as how I believe today, I have not grown. I have sat. And that produces rot.

For faith to grow, I must come to an ever deeper understandings of what I believe. And this can only be accomplished by daily meditation and Lectio Divina.

I think the degree of our hope is somehow related to the degree of our growth, how that seed is absorbing the water and sun of contemplation. I think that a sterile faith is a dead faith, something more like a habit, that can be derailed at the first obstacle. I think that when the seed is growing, I will find I am changing, imperceptibly, but truly.

And so, I should be changing. My faith, to grow, does not need more knowledge, but more reflection.