Experiencing the presence of God in silence

It happened in church. The baptism was finished, the families had stopped taking their pictures, one by the baptismal font, one in front of the altar, one with extended family, one with just the family, one with the godparents, one with the grandparents... I stayed in the sacristy keeping busy, waiting for them to finish up. The church was noisy as everyone talked quite loudly, catching up, I suppose on events and news. Fifteen minutes passed, and then thirty. I lowered the lights, hoping they would get the hint to move on out of the church with their conversations. They finally did.

I locked up the church and came back inside. And there it was, the silence, the presence, the atmosphere I so loved in the monastery. And I wondered: why do we prefer to talk in church, to visit, to catch up? Why do we not want to experience the presence of God in the silence? It is so powerful....or is it?

Perhaps I first have to find the Presence in silence before I can appreciate the places of silence. Perhaps I have to experience the uselessness of words, the pit of unanswered prayers, the inability to find words, before I realize, I don't really need them to experience the Presence of the Divine One. I have to sit with that stillness forced upon me before I begin to realize, it carries Gift, it holds a Presence.

When I walked down the aisle of the church, everyone gone and the place quiet and still, the sun streaming through the stain-glass windows, I knelt down on one knee and bowed my head. I knew God was in this place.

Lead into contemplation

Sitting in stillness before presence

Darkness is not dark for you, and night shines as the day. (ps. 139:12). The concept continues to haunt me. When I speak of darkness, I am speaking of struggle, of unknowing, of confusion. So to have the psalm say that to God, darkness is not dark cannot mean he makes light of our human condition. I think it means that what we see as darkness can actually be a source for great light.

I think back to the benefits darkness has given me in the past. It made me stop and reflect, it destroyed preconceived ideals and notions, and I sank deeper into meditation. I stopped asking questions, because real darkness blots out even the formulation of questions. Darkness made me silence, so that I opened not my mouth. I became still before God. And because my expectations were dashed, I just sat there in silence and waited. Without knowing it, darkness forced me into contemplative prayer.

Only later in looking back do I see the rich fruits that came from such darkness. I was concerned about what I was giving to God. I'd forgotten God had something to give to me. I could only receive it after I relinquished my agenda and sat still before the Divine Presence.  My darkness taught me a different kind of prayer, one of listening.

Perhaps that is the real meaning behind the phrase of psalm 139. The very trials that punish the soul often reveal the hidden beauty we've not tapped into. And we seem to need the darkness so that we push ourselves beyond what is comfortable, what is admirable, what is acceptable. Nothing can seem more devastating than to sit before God, dumb and knowing not what to say. And even as the soul groans, "Lord, what is it you want from me?" the soul is taking flight into a new type of faith, a new form of hope, into a light not known among mere mortals. Perhaps this kind of darkness releases the soul into the divine light of grace that brings the soul into a new sphere of understanding. Maybe this kind of darkness is no more than a cocoon where transformation takes place.

Feeling empty

I do not often admit to it, but today when trying to write a thought, I feel empty. No thoughts, no inspiration, no juice.

I suspect I am not the only person who has these days. There are some times when empty comes. And despite attempts to jump start thoughts, there are none.

I think that empty is good. Empty is a time to listen, instead of sharing. It is a time to check on being open, a time to stop. A time to reflect.

But how you can reflect when you are empty?

Simple. I am still. I stop trying to steer my journey and instead concentrate on surrender. Empty is good, because it reminds me that my journey is my journey. I often share the thoughts that I find helpful. Being empty helps me remember, not all thoughts are helpful to all. I have to accept that.

Surrender I think is the opposite to building. Sometimes when I fail to surrender to emptiness, I begin to build. But sometimes that building is not good building. I don't have to always build.

Surrender is a reminder of my frailty, my limits, my neediness. I am not god. I am a creature seeking Divinity.

Surrender is acting out this belief. It is letting God be God. It letting me be still.
 

Sitting in Silence

When I think of Good Friday, I think of silence. As Christians, we have put a good "spin" on the events that we commemorate today. But in reality, this day had little good about it for those participating in the real thing. It was full of physical pain, anguish beyond words, and sorrow.

I think it is good to remember this because in each life there comes a time when one simply experiences pain without any redeeming qualities. And that is because pain by itself doesn't redeem. Pain can break, crush, and destroy souls. It is not something to be taken lightly or explained away.

Silence is our best response to pain and sorrow. Silence and openness. There are times not appropriate for answers, and we need only know someone cares. Jesus hung in agony, and someone did care, did stand there to be with him. She could not remove his pain or save him. But she could be there with him.

When we are going through a hard time, it is good not to seek answers. It is better to remember the divinity within ourselves and know we are not alone. It is better to sit in silence, being still before God.

On this Good Friday, let us spend some extra time in silence. Let us wrap it around us like a cloak and let it saturate us. In silence and stillness, let us remember this day of days long ago.

Mirror, Mirror, on the Wall

Self-reflection. A way to look into the soul. No personal growth, no hidden treasure can be found without it. It requires more than stillness and silence. Nor is it a habit of comparison. Rather, it is a communication of mind and soul, a quiet dialogue with the self and God, a pause that ponders more than judges.

Self-reflection makes us wiser, calmer, more assured of who we are. It makes us less judgmental because we look at both sides of a story, and know that no one is totally innocent, so no one should bear all the blame.

Self-reflection requires courage, because what we find isn't always what we want to see. But that is the glory of it; we learn the truth about ourselves, which helps us shed the oblivious "me" of our dreams.  Such shedding reveals a very organic honesty, one that  refreshes simple because it is authentic. And isn't that what we all want?