The benefits of forgiveness

Forgiveness allows tranquility to envelope the soul

I found it quite interesting that the article on forgiveness was not in a religious magazine. No, it was in Counseling Today, the ACA magazine for licensed, professional, clinical counselors. I'd like to quote a couple lines here.

What stands between many clients and a happy life is the often-elusive process of forgiveness.

Blockages people struggle with in their lives were linked to some sort of issue for which they needed to forgive someone.

Forgiveness isn't about the other person or about making someone else apologize or change--it is about setting yourself free.

Not forgiving creates an emotional prison, ties you to a person or an event that usually you would rather forget but are unable to.

I could go on. But I think the above quotes demonstrates quite well that forgiveness is about me, not about the other person. For when I failed to forgive, I become the prisoner, chained to the person or event I will not let go. Refusing to forgive keeps me very small, and small means many things: bitter, resentful, jealous, angry, hateful, stuck.

When Jesus said, forgive others as you want God to forgive you, he was in effect trying to remind me to keep balanced. Just as I do things that need forgiving, so too do others. Do not expect them to be something I cannot be.

Finding an article on forgiveness in a counseling magazine shows just how far reaching resentments can go. I do so much harm to myself when I refuse to forgive.

So the next time someone hurts or offends me, maybe my question should be, "Do I want to punish and damage myself over this?" If the answer is no, then it is time to let go.

 

Finding the balance between a monastic heart and life as it is

Inspiration often comes from outside of ourselves. Recently, reading another blog (Called Monks and Mermaids) I came across an interesting article that examines the Orthodox Church and the lessons it can teach us. In part, the article said: 

Orthodoxy is a monastic Church, a Church with a monastic heart where the monasteries provide the spiritual fathers and mothers...A Church without a flourishing monasticism, without the lived 'martyrdom' of an asceticism inspired by the Paschal Mystery of the Lord's Cross and Resurrection, could hardly be a Church according to the mind of the Christ of the Gospels, for monasticism, of all Christian life ways, is the one which most clearly and publicly leaves all things behind for the sake of the Kingdom...

As I read this, I thought of my own past monastic experience, one where the intense training I received brought me into a very different way of life, one so different that re-integrating into life outside the monastery has never ceased to be challenging. I thought of my constant struggle to identify with my fellow travelers along the way, my inability to communicate on deeper levels even with those of my own family, and how I have to constantly work to understand why certain things seem so important to those around me (such as name brands and name dropping and styles and all that stuff).

Monastic life does change a person. The question I have is, how does one change back? How far should one cling to the monastic persona, the monastic mindset, or the monastic heart?

For if I am really living out the challenge of Christ, I should be able to identify with all the people of God, and able to understand concerns and issues not my own. At least, that is my hope.

The Dreamer and the dream

Sometimes we go through many doorways before we reach our dreams!

Scripture depicts Joseph of the Old Testament as quite the dreamer. Joseph's dreams did not just humor him; they predicted his future. And Joseph went through trial and deportation, servitude and imprisonment before he saw the fulfillment of those dreams.

Joseph of the New Testament dreamed as well. His dreams often answered the nagging questions he held secretly in his heart. He listened to those dreams, and followed them.

Hans Selye is quoted as saying realistic people with practical aims are rarely as realistic and practical in the long run of things as the dreamers who pursue their dreams.

You and I have dreams. But what are we doing about them? Are we setting them aside so that we can be "practical"?  Or are we daring to reach out and do what we can to try and fulfill those dreams?

If the Gospels teach us anything, it is to believe. And part of believing is dreaming...of what could be, of what we are meant to be, of where life can take us. Dreams are doorways to destinies.

Today, let us think of our dreams. Then, let us set off to pursue them.

My image of God

The Trinity, by Mary Grace Thul, OP

I have often maintained that God is to us what we want God to be (see Road to Emmaus). So it was with interest that I read the following from Caryll Houselander:

There is a widespread idea today that it does not matter what our conception of God is like...but as our conception of God is, so we ourselves become. If we think God is hard, we grow hard; if we think God is a kill-joy, we become kill-joys; if we think of God as omnipotent secret police, all-present, all-seeing, all-terrible, we shrink from God, and the heart that shrinks from God shrinks to nothing. (From Lift Up Your Hearts)

Houselander's words do hold an important truth. Those whose God is severe do become severe and judgmental. Those whose God is kind and merciful are generous with mercy. And those whose God is vague and far away, well, they tend to flounder with no particular direction and no particular purpose.

In this light it is good to reflect on my image of God. Because it is the character I am taking on for myself.

Jonah, punishment, and me

I am like Jonah. As the story is told in Chapter 3 of scripture, Jonah went out to the city of Nineveh to announce that it was doomed. Only something unexpected happened. They repented, and then God repented of promising destruction. And Jonah? Well, he got mad that God did not destroy them. After all, Jonah went through quite a bit before making it to Nineveh. Jonah wanted God to fulfill the punishment Jonah had promised. Jonah wanted justice.

I cringe when I realize, I am like Jonah. When someone cuts me off on the highway, I say a prayer they will get caught by the cops. When someone insults me, I secretly hope for some mishap to come about, and convince myself that they deserve this. When bad things happen, I find a way to justify myself. Yes, I am like Jonah.

Being a Christian should make me different. I should be full of compassion and empathy. I should not look at people and hope they will get their due. So where have I gone wrong?

I put these tendencies to human nature and our natural response to danger.

And I admit, I am still on my journey. I have not yet arrived.

Living the questions...

In reading Clyde Crews book, Ultimate Questions, I like his statement No one escapes questioning; and in good measure we are defined in life and even in death by the nature of our own personal response (p. 3). I would go one step further and maintain that we cannot truly answer the question once and for all, that my personal response will change even as my life changes. That truly, no answer will satisfy me forever.

You know from your own experience even as I know from mine: answers never truly satisfy. What seemed right in one situation will not be so in another. Because answers are an attempt to make sense of it all, and sometime, life just doesn't make sense. 

But perhaps it is even more than that. Perhaps our dissatisfaction with former answers come because we have grown beyond that point. We know that the answer only half answered, and we need to find more. I think this is good, for it means we are seeking, and that is always a good thing

It also comes because, as we journey forward, we begin to look more to understand the questions than to need answers. In fact, the best answers come when we are seeking to unravel the question, to understand it fully, to see it from every side. Then our multifaceted question will challenge us immensely.

There is no getting around it. We all question. The important point is, do we live our questions? Do we sit with them and let them unfold before us?

Or do we grab for answers and run?

Learning to trust and surrender

Much of religious literature treats progress in the spiritual life as some sort of ladder, with each rung bringing us to a higher stage. It’s as though closeness to God can be earned like a college degree.

I recognize that yes, the spiritual life does unfold naturally, as we grow from the simple faith of a child to a more mature faith, like the adolescent, to a deep and mystical faith, like that of a mature adult. But I think real life is more obscure, meandering, and unpredictable.

In truth, I think of my spiritual journey not as climbing rungs of a ladder, but as deepening my soul and spirit. And I’ve learned that even when I am aware of Presence, I still have doubts, fears, and questions. I have learned to accept the very real fact that life has its ups and downs, and my vision need not be clear to believe or to love.

I think we tend to think of the spiritual life in this way because we want light to cast out all doubt, and moral courage to overcome all fears. I think such concepts come only from those who have not stayed on-board the sinking vessel of life, and searched for their own surviving hope and trust.
 
I say this because I see a danger in stages, in ascending, as though we can reach a plateau where we know better than others. I think this is a very dangerous kind of thinking. In some sense, we are all beginners, because we must be converted and turned to the Lord every waking moment of our lives. And in some sense we all have a part of heaven tucked into our heart and soul.

So, instead of seeking to climb to perfection, seek instead a greater openness to the spirit, an acceptance of who I am. And remember always the psalm, The Lord hears the cry of the poor. (Ps. 34)