The cloudy glass

A look into a fogged mirror and you can barely discern yourself, muted colors and indistinct shapes are what look back through the condensation. How dim the future when we envision what is to come. The shapes are hardly recognizable and the colors are difficult to indentify. Sure we set goals, create action steps, analyze time commitments and make our plans in one and five year increments. How about the shape of our hearts, what do we want to believe in, in five years, what will the interior landscape of our souls become. What will our soul gardens look like further on this journey: shade trees grown huge, ponds teeming with life, fruit weighing down branches, ripe for picking. The reflection seen dimly is one looked at on the outside, the inner journey is much clearer and does not require a reflective surface, but rather an unobstructed connection to the core of our being.

Submerged

It is in the darkness that we find our true character. When the light has dimmed, we face ourselves, without the visual clutter of identity trappings we have purchased. The lightless times are gifts for us to reconsider our lives: where we are, where we are going, where we have come from, who we are, who we want to become, what we have been. It is not surprising that Jonah and Jesus spend three days in darkness, one in the belly of a fish, the other in the belly of death. Both get spat back out into life. Jonah is our point up to Jesus, and both are reminders that we all go through submerged times when light has failed and we cry out our anguish and come face to face with our deepest fears. Easter is a yearly reminder of life after the darkened tunnel. Spring glows with new life after the barren winter, green bursts forth from seemingly dead branches, blossoms adorn tree and plant. It is good to be reminded of the growth that comes from our winters, to assure us again that the dark cold always ends and a new season greets us with such potential.

Eve of the Palm

Thunder clouds rolled in and dropped their wet load over the city, just after sunset. An ominous reminder of the beginning of Holy Week. Darkness, cold and suffering are essential elements of life, before hope can be rejoiced in. How often, we dream of the monotony of paradise: blue water, white beaches and palm branches waving in a gentle breeze. Palm branches are meant to be waved this wekend, but not as a sign of the absence of stress but as the triumphal entry into Jerusalem and victory over death. Yes, the beach is an important place for the restoration of our soul, but Jerusalem is where the test of our faith will be played out when the crowd recognizes us as one of his followers. What shall we say? We waved the palm branch wildly in anticipation of sharing in the victory, but the reality of following in his path requires embracing the thunder clouds of life.

A River Within

A river is a beautiful visual picture of life. The rush of the water as it foams around rocks and drops over ledges in torrents of beauty. The motion slows when wider banks give it girth to meander through the lowlands. Traveling at a slower speed that allows for looking up at the overhanging trees and the cloudless sky on a lazy afternoon in mid summer. Ah, this is what the heart needs, a bit of slowing down, a time to look up and find out what color the sky is today, a chance to see what birds are winging through the branches of green-leafed trees, a closing of the eyes to hear the gurgling of the water agasinst the sides of the boat. To see life as upon a river, to see a river flowing within, to connect to life in all its mystery and wonder, that is what today should hold.

A Deep Place of Contentment

What I have discovered is that the stillness is in my soul. It is a deep place of contentment in the path set before me and I walk it with confidence in the direction that has been set. It does not mean I do not stumble and fall, that is the way of life, it is the getting up and continuing that we are measured by. The stillness and knowing operate at a soul level that creates a foundation for the activeness of my life.

The “be-ing” is a way of viewing myself as a part of the new humanity that Christ calls us to live in and as. We are part of the kingdom of God, a group of people that live to see others operate in new found peace and vitality to pursue their dreams. Becoming a human being rather than merely a human doing is essential for our growth and well being. The doing is not the problem in itself but doing without being is empty of life-giving power. George Bernard Shaw gives us a wonderful sense of how to live fully being and fully doing.

"This is the true joy in life, The being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a great one; the being thoroughly worn out before you are thrown on the scrap heap; the being a force of nature instead of a feverish selfish little clod of ailments and grievance complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy."

Shaw gives us the four “beings” of life. These are the four “be’s” of being still and being empowered to fully life out our callings.
1. “Being used for a purpose”-when we are still before God, we are affirmed in our purpose in life. He communes with us to give us strength and direction.
2. “Being used for a great purpose”-seeing ourselves as part of Christ’s new humanity, we are involved in greatness as we follow Him.
3. “Being thoroughly worn out by the end”-we need to run the race with all we have, using the resources that we are given to act upon the call we have received.
4. “Being a force of nature”-the stillness of God is not passive, but powerfully connected to the creative forces that shaped our universe, our world and the transformation of our souls.

So it is with confidence that I share a part of my journey with you, that God will reveal his call upon your life and empower you to walk in the way he has set before you. Be still and know that you are an essential part of the creative work of God on the earth.

Wrestling with this notion

All of my adult life I have wrestled with this notion that we should be “still” before the Lord. When I am still, I fall asleep because I have been doing so much that exhaustion takes over when ever I stop. I have sought out much advice from those more mature in the faith and usually have received the comment that I am doing too much and should lighten the load I carry, and then I would be able to find stillness in the Lord. As you probably know, that has not been the answer that I have found for my life.

The following is a brief look at how I have come to terms with the energy level I have, the vision that drives me and the way I have found stillness in my life. I used to be accused of having multiple adrenaline glands and how unfair that is to others that move more slowly. I find that rather than comparing ourselves to others. We need to seek out what it is that God has called us to do and use whatever resources available to us to accomplish it. I have been gifted (and cursed, if you watch MONK on USA) with an active mind, where ideas never cease and the will to see them actualized. I have patience to pursue them over many years and the endurance to weather much criticism. When I finally stopped listening to advice that was contrary to how God has made me, I have found much peace.

In the cool of the day

It is no wonder that we crave the quietness of a garden. The air is filled with the scents of blossoms and the colors are a delight to our eyes. The mixture of light and shade, the arrangement of the plantings, the texture of the air, it is healing to our souls. A place of refuge, walled off, gated and closed except to the few we trust to linger with us for a brief time. We can be honest in our gardens, we choose what voices to listen to and we accept our limitations. The abundance of our failures makes for great fertilizer. As we forgive ourselves and others, the nutriants from the release fill our soil with potential for new growth. The seasons allow us to bloom with intensity, endure the heat of summer, let go of much in Autumn and rest deeply in the barren cold of winter. The garden becomes a rich metaphor for the wholeness of our souls we so desparately desire.