Moving toward unceasing communion with God

One reader explores her own awakening and longing to live in full communion with God.  She's begun a solid practice and the practice of this interior prayer is carrying her deeper into this communion.  She knows the beauty of simply sitting in God's presence, just being.  But she wonders,  "Is it possible for that peace to always be there?" I offer this as an answer . . .

That peace is always there. Jesus assures us that the kingdom, the reign or realm of God, is both coming and already among us. What's more, it is within us. So is it always there, within us and among us.  The trick is to create such a well-worn path by our practice of prayer that we can quickly find the narrow gate to that inner world of eternity no matter where we are or what we're doing.

We will not always (or perhaps often) live in the bliss of that peace. We live a mixed life (both active and contemplative) and will find ourselves tilting one way or another during the day. But we carry the peace of God within us.

Imagine your heart as a little shrine in the midst of the city, often overlooked by the traffic on the street or sidewalk, mostly ignored by the busy and important people in offices and restaurants around it. But it is always there and you can enter it whenever you wish.

There are times you'll forget it and the narrow gate at its entrance will become overgrown and hidden. But when you awaken again and return to your practice, you can push through the ivy on the gate and clear the path again.

It's no use berating yourselves for forgetting the little shrine that's always so near, or fearing that you'll get too busy to enter it. You will. But you can always return. In fact, every distraction is another opportunity for you to return. And you'll find God always smiling, arms outstretched when you walk back through that gate and down the path.

The wonder of all this is that this shrine isn't out the door and down the street.  It's as near as the beating of your heart.  The peace of God is enshrined in your heart and goes with you wherever you may go.

Signs of Awakening

There are signs of awakening all around us.  And there are people who are daring to give voice to that awakening; they’re trying to find words to put with their experience.  Sarah’s one who’s reaching for words—and she, like so many others, is helping us to imagine the future by doing the hard work of bringing to the light of day what the Holy Spirit is speaking in her during these twilight hours before the Dawn breaks upon us.

“There’s a longing that’s stirring within me—a longing for holiness.  You’re right about the Wal-Mart style of Christianity, and it’s created an experience of deep sadness in me, a disappointment at the overall cheapness of it.

“I long for something of value, something of real goodness that cannot be quantified or made systematic. My longings are hard to explain; it’s more of an I-know-it-when-I-see-it kind of thing, and I know it when I see it because it’s real.  I’ve also experienced the kind of conversations within church communities that sound like they’re on the right track, but they’re not.  People ask each other: ‘what does it look like to be real?  How do we create something authentic?’”

Sarah rightly knows there’s an intrinsic link between holiness and realness.  And she knows there’s something false lurking nearby when realness is used for some other purpose.  The moment real can’t stand on its own as a good thing in its own right, is the moment you’ve come face to face with phoniness all dressed up and looking pretty.

If you’re weary and wary of the charade, chances it’s not cynicism that’s at work in you.  You’re part of a larger awakening.  But it could turn to cynicism if you don’t link up with others who’ve glimpsed the first rays of Christ’s coming dawn.

In my experience they're often nearer than you think.  But knowing each other requires guts; we’ve got to try to give voice to what we’re longing for, and risk speaking it to others.

Into the Silent Land--the Human Heart

Here's an outstanding introduction to the richness of Christian spirituality, interior prayer, stillness, and inner transformation.  A handy little book by Martin Laird: Into the Silent Land: A Guide to the Christian Practice of Contemplation

"This book is different. There are plenty of books on contemplation that feel rather tired--either wordy and labored or unhelpfully smooth and idealistic. But this is sharp, deep, with no cliches, no psychobabble and no short cuts. Its honesty is bracing, its vision utterly clear; it is a rare treasure."

--Rowan Williams, The Archbishop of Canterbury

"Often they say 'you learn how to swim by swimming' but a good coach or swimming manual is essential. Equally, we could say 'you learn how to be contemplative by contemplating' and a good guide or mentor is necessary. Into the Silent Land is just that. I tried it and it works. Try it."

--Archbishop Desmond Tutu, winner of the Nobel Peace Prize

Fostering the spiritual awakening

People all around us are waking up to the pursuit of a life marked by interior integrity and intention, expressing itself in authentic happiness and compassion toward others.  If you're reading this, I count you among them. Unfortunately, many who wake up to a long-dormant and neglected spirituality often turn to the church only to find many churches either caught up in turmoil or given over to materialism.  Christians fight among themselves, with other congregations or denominations, and with the world. One awakened soul recently told me about her visits to local congregations: "The churches I visited seem angry, even hateful toward those who don't agree with them."

Those that aren't fighting seem caught up in peddling their goods and services like sophisticated religious Wall Marts or like a proliferating retail franchise. I man told me that visiting one such congregation he felt more like a resource to be exploited for the sake of the cause or institution rather than a human being simply seeking God and needing direction in the life of prayer and interior transformation.

Too often those awakening to the spiritual life turn elsewhere.  Christianity seems largely irrelevant, and its practices and doctrines feel more like barriers to their pursuit of God than aids for the journey.

And yet the Christian tradition is rich with resources to guide the awakening. Too long hidden, these resources are making a comeback.  Kept for centuries by faithful monks and mystics, they are now entering the mainstream, supporting urban people with the grace needed to cultivate a holiness and humanness on this ragged edge of the modern world.

My goal on this site is to help mainstream the hidden gifts of the saints who've found in Jesus and Christian spirituality a door into their hearts and guide to the vast, uncharted eternal realm within.

To do this, I need your help.

1. What is stirring within you?

2. What questions rumble around in your head?

3. What do you long for, hunger for?

4. What are you afraid of?

How to greet the day

The words you mutter to yourself matter, especially upon waking. After staggering in and out of the bathroom, you may have one word on your mind—coffee.  If not coffee, then you’ve got a shower on your mind, or letting the dog out, finding the newspaper or getting yourself out the door and off to the gym.  As your brain gets your body moving, it begins to churn with the obligations of the day, tugging you out of this moment, lurching you anxiously down the road, or fretting over something that happened yesterday that you’ve got to live with today.  These thoughts are nearly automatic. The ego, your internal self-manager, is already doing its job in the way it’s done it since you were little.

In some sense, from the moment you awaken (and also in your dreams), you’ve been praying without ceasing—not to God, but to the roles and responsibility, fears and ambitions that drive you.  The din of this unceasing, interior muttering, the pressure of all that’s coming at you, distracts you from the stunning wonder of the dawn, the light that’s coming to you as a new day begins, and the God who’s running toward you now, even before you’re ready for God’s embrace.

But the unconscious muttering of your mind hides all this, just as morning fog or city smog hides the dancing sun.  Your muttering matters.  So, take charge of those first few words.  You can’t shut out completely the words that tumble through your brain, but you can, over time, swap them out for other, better words.

Try these instead—

Look!  My Beloved comes, leaping on the mountains, bounding over the hills.  My Beloved comes and says to me, “Come away, my love, come away. Let me see your face; let me hear your voice.  For your face is lovely and your voice is sweet.” from Song of Solomon 2.8-14

Each day, look to the sun (or wherever it’s supposed to be if you can't see it for one reason or another), and utter these words with a lusty, throaty and audible voice.  They’re better than a double shot of Espresso.

And you’ll gain eyes to see God coming toward you even if you’re stuck in gridlock during your morning commute.