Surrender and freedom

Surrender, like a good seed, has many shoots

Surrender. It is suppose to help one let go and be free. But as a recent conversation with a friend revealed, surrender can also bring guilt and sadness. Why would that be?

I have several thoughts on the matter. First of all, surrender, like forgiveness, is not a one time act. Though you make a decision, you must renew that decision every time the thought or desire to cling comes to mind. And that is what I think my friend was going through. She had given up something precious that she felt she needed to let go. And she felt the freedom of letting go as she gave it away. But coming  home, she was engulfed in sadness because, that decision had to be made all over again, and that letting go had to be renewed.

I think there is another aspect of surrender that we rarely think about, and that is consequences. I tend to think of Surrender as the culmination of an act, the final decision. But it isn't. Life is a journey, and we must enter into such aspects of this journey not once, but over and over again. And so, surrender is not the ultimate act, it is just one act made along the way, bringing with it other changes and consequences. Our task is not to lose heart, not to forget the goal, and not to be surprised when our surrender makes us feel more vulnerable, or less rooted.

I think that surrender is not just an important decision that leads to freedom, but an important step in our journey. It is surrender that says I can trust more, I do not need to cling to some security or memento. Surrender takes courage, because it is a definite step forward toward vulnerability. And in being more vulnerable, we do become more Divine.

The fullness of Presence

God clothes even the fields with wild flowers

It was just the ending of the Sunday sermon and it probably sounded good to most. But I found it troubling and fought with the words in my own heart and mind. The sermon ended with the words: it's not about us at all. It's all about God. It doesn't matter what you wear, or what kind of job you have. We must put all that aside. Because ultimately it is suppose to be all about God.

I know his point was, God should be first and the most important person of our life. The problem I had was, he was inferring that therefore, we don't matter. Only God does. And I find such thinking divides my life into either living for God or living for me, as if it has to be one way or the other. In reality, it should be both, together, in harmony and unity.

We read in the Gospel that even the hairs on your head are numbered...and no sparrow falls from the sky without God knowing it (Mt  10:30, 29). God would have us believe that not only do we matter; there is nothing about ourselves, our lives, or our work that is too small to be important to God.

I suppose my biggest problem with the words of Sunday's sermon is the dichotomy it promotes, making the choice of a life for God a choice against myself. I'm not speaking here of the restraint we need against our selfish and destructive habits and obsessions. I am speaking of the choices that make up our normal, daily lives. These are not unimportant to God. And life isn't about treating these choices as inconsequential in favor of some vague, esoteric God choice. Because it doesn't come down to either God or me, but should rather be God IN me.

Had I been preaching, I would have said: And so, remember that every little thing you do, be it the clothes you put on or the car you drive, can and should be done with the presence of God in mind. For he cares for you, so much so that nothing, no daily ritual, habit, or chore is unimportant to him. For you have a Divine Being who cares so much that even the smallest thing you do is noticed.

Make your choice one of awareness of God by bringing God into all of these daily things. And instead of dividing your life, you will enrich it with the fullness of presence.

The Challenge of Tension

I'm reading Viktor Frankl's book, Man's Search for Meaning, and find in it a number of very powerful thoughts. Frankls insists that it is our attitude that makes the difference in how we live our lives. He should know. He survived a concentration camp during WWII.

One sentence in particularly caught my eye: Mental health is based on a certain degree of tension, the tension between what one has already achieved and what one still ought to accomplish, or the gap between what one is and what one should become (104). In Frankls's mind, tension in our lives is healthy and to be expected. It is what keeps us searching and working toward a better "me". I consider it a dangerous misconception of mental hygiene to assume that what a person needs in the first place is... "homeostasis" i.e., a tensionless state.

During this time of Lent, it is good to reflect on such thoughts. Are you struggling right now with some difficulty? Take heart. It has the potential to offer you great growth. Are you trying to solve a problem? Your problem can lead you to a deeper level of consciousness. Is life hard for your right now? Then you have the chance to grow more than when things are going well.

I'll admit, such concepts are difficulty to grasp, and I'll be the first to say that given the choice, I'd really prefer the trouble free life. But since life does happen, Frankl's advise is worth considering. Then, when the chips are down and we find ourselves faced with choices, we can call to mind Frankl's words, that life is about how we live out our challenges, not on how much it conforms to our liking.

Making the Choice

Today I was encouraged by a reading from the Song of Songs: Arise, my beloved...see, the winter is past,the rains are over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth... Now, I admit, my encouragement is totally natural...the thought of spring, of blossoms, of trees budding and plants bursting forth at this time of year just heartens me! And I know I'm not alone in this!

A friend told me recently how she learned about nature early in childhood. And as she grew older, she took lessons she'd learned and applied it to her life. She remembered when things were tough that winter always gives way to spring and summer. She took hints from her travels through the woods, her learning to pay attention to not only what was ahead, but the path she came from, and applied it to her spiritual journey. And, she said, she is encouraged at the remembrance that the many birds, small and simple as they are, all had their part to play in nature.

Nature can teach us so many things. It can remind us that our spiritual journey is not so different than our walk through the woods. It can remind us through a myriad of images of God's goodness, grace, the fleeting moments we have, and hope for change. It's there for us. We must make use of these gifts.

Julia Verhaeghe writes: Everything is simple in Christ, our friend and brother. Yet, how inclined we are to make the simplest things difficult and complicated.

Sounds like the choice is ours.

Power and Consequences

Choice. We make it every day, many times a day. It's the authority God gives to us, the free will that has real power and consequences. Yet, it is easy to let this slip, to fall back, to follow when we should counter, to agree when we should ponder, to ignore when we should take notice.

No major change in life will come from a life lived to the dictates of easy flow. Major change can only come from someone who regularly exercises choice. The more we confront our own issues, make the hard decisions, step out even when we are not sure, the greater our ability to move forward when life reaches that crucial point and we must do something or die. And I mean, die spiritually, cease to exercise rationally, lose our intuition and discernment. It means knowing when the trials you are suffering are telling you to change instead of accept, especially when such change will bring insecurity and an unknown future.

Each of us has to live by our decisions. So let's make it work toward our growth, let's keep it based on what is important in life, let's never surrender its power over to anyone else.

Crossroads

We all come to crossroads in our life, when we are forced to chose a direction. We stand at the fork in the road, and deliberate which fork will best take us forward.

I wonder if that is why Jesus speaks of a "cross". We tend to make the description physical, and tag the image of him dying on it. That description always carries the concept of suffering. But maybe he also meant the cross to denote decisions we must make when we reach that place in life where our path splits, demanding some kind of decision.

There are two parts to a decision. There is the actual choice we make, and I think most of us do pretty well with that. But there is also the responsibility we must take for making that choice. And that's the part we tend to mess up.

Look at the story of Genesis. Eve makes a choice to eat the forbidden fruit, and shares it with Adam. But when they realize, whoa, what a mistake! they run and hide. Like God can't find them.

I think there is a spirituality that encourages us to hand over our choices to another, by following someone else's direction. That spirituality instills in us a sense of safety and security. The other person guides, and our task is only to follow. In such spirituality, the other person always assumes responsibility.

But that kind of spirituality cannot build strong relationships with God. The soul, failing to know the hardship and fear of making choices tends to rely on pious practices. And as good as pious practice may seem, they do not build the bedrock of faith and trust. That comes when we take risks, and take responsibility for choice. When a soul soft in pious devotion meets disastor, often that soul runs and even abandons ship because it expected to be saved from real life pain.

Choices follow us always, and maybe that is the sense of Jesus words, "take up your cross and follow me." Not that life must be one long suffering journey; but that life requires constant decision making. Carrying our decisions could mean, taking that responsibility along, and learning from it. Such a spirituality is solid, built on a constant discernment, which is really nothing more than a constant seeking of God.

Crossroads. The journey is only as good as the heart. Choosing a path that doesn't turn out allows us to accept our responsibility for that choice and allows us to make another choice. Such a life is deeply fulfilling, exciting, demanding. And it leads one so close to God, you don't hide when he comes to walk along side you, whatever cool of the evening you meet him. You reach out and take his hand, and tell him about your day, sharing with him all that is happening in your life.