When you become fire

Here's a poem I wrote in 2009, expresses the intention of prayer.  It joins both the necessity of human effort in the pursuit of God, yet meets our effort with grace---without which there will be no real meeting, no holy fire, no true prayer.  It also joins together the three elements of the person in a fully Christian psychology---body, mind (or soul), and heart (or spirit).

Unless these three unite and meet grace, there is only a superficial meeting with God.  We bring our full humanity to meet God's full divinity.  Only then can we become what we are made to be.  As both St. Athanasius in the Eastern Church and St. Augustine in the Western Church teach: "Divinity became humanity that humanity might become divinity."  This is the goal of prayer---Fire.

The Pyre

Desire Fire, and God will send a spark.

When body, mind, and heart unite,

You become the Pyre.

October 2009

A prayer when entering into silence

It's one thing to offer a prayer expressing your intention to love God in prayer (see previous post). The form of prayer that follows that little prayer may be a meditation on Scripture, holy conversation with your Beloved, or intercession for others. But, at some point Love will invite you into the Silence where no words can ever go.  It is the Silence from which words come, the home of the Word.  To go there, you'll want to express your intention clearly for that journey as well. Here's a prayer I often whisper as I ready myself for stillness before the Beloved:

I still my lips that my mind may seek; I still my mind that my heart may seek; I still my heart, and hide inside the Great Silence, till What I seek finds me.

It expresses my intention to gradually move from the outer parts of my body toward my deepest inner self, where Christ awaits. Such a prayer charts the path I will walk toward the divine encounter, every step a renunciation of self-will, self-interest, and self-control---a yielding to God who alone can carry me across the threshold of what I've known, into the Mystery I cannot know except through the blindness of unknowing, the renunciation of all previous ways of knowing.

As any good lover, express your intention clearly

As you enter into prayer, express your intention to love God with all you have (Luke 10.27). I will often improvise on some alluring passage of Scripture that arouses my love, my devotion, my pursuit of the Beloved. Song of Solomon 1.1-4 or 2.8-14 are my preference. These intimate love letters once used between two lovers are, in the history of spirituality, invitations to the divine romance. Express them to God, your Beloved, and let them set your heart aflame.

Obviously, your heart will not always "burn within you"--especially at dawn after you've stumbled out of bed, and perhaps haven't slept well or had your morning coffee. You may have difficulty focusing at the end of a long and troubling day. No matter, you've expressed your intention.  That's what matters.

Your body and mind will follow your words eventually. If not today, then after the hundredth time you've mumbled the words.  One day you'll speak the words as you have ninety-nine times before, but this time there's a sudden brush of wings, a gentle nudge, a voice that comes to you.  You look up and see your Beloved running toward you, and you'll feel yourself rising up with a desire you've not engineered. Love has come for you, unexpected, unforced.

You expressed your intention, then waited. And Grace has come to you; your prayer becomes a dance, or better, a holy bed for lovers.

Holiness is done bodily

The holiness of daily life; the sacredness of this place, this moment, this body of yours; practices that open you to see and embrace the presence of God here, now. That's what this site is about.

In her book, An Altar in the World: A Geography of Faith, Episcopal priest and college professor, Barbara Brown Taylor, summons us to that life and gives guidance for embracing it. I love the way she calls to us with the voice of Holy Wisdom (Proverbs 1.20-21):

"What is saving my life now is the conviction that there is no spiritual treasure to be found apart from the bodily human experience of human life on earth.

In a world of too much information about almost everything, bodily practices can provide great relief. To make bread or love, to dig in the earth, to feed an animal or cook for a stranger---these activities require no extensive commentary or lucid theology. All they require is someone willing to bend, reach, chop, stir. . . .

In a world where faith is often construed as a way of thinking, bodily practices remind the willing that faith is a way of life. . . .

So welcome to your priesthood, practiced at the altar of your own life. The good news is that you have everything you need to begin."

Over-managing others

I'm lured (again) into over-managing others---or at least, anxiety over trying to manage others (whether or not I actually get them to do anything at all). The church. The staff. My sons habits. The household and finances. How do I interact with others and exercise the authority I'm given while not over-managing or micromanaging? Isn't there another, better way?

Jesus says, "Do not worry" about the stuff of daily life. Seek the kingdom of God, and what needs to come your way will come. Today gives you enough to worry about, and you've got enough to do just managing your own life, let alone the lives of others (Matthew 6.25-34).

Trouble is, the way others live affects me deeply. Add to that, I have some responsibility over how they live---especially the employees I lead and the sons I feed. So it's not a surprise that I want to get them to do and be certain things---their behavior directly effects me and how I feel about myself.

Argh! Me. Me. Me! When will I get over me? "Oh wretched person I am! Who will rescue me" (and them) from me? (Romans 7.24)

Get the me-that's-always-pushing out of the picture, and they'll all be free to be much more than the little you want them to be.

From my journals, October 6, 2007