Another exercise in awakening

Take time to explore your experiences of “coming home”. The home you’ve known may not be a place you wish to return to. But what would it be like to come home to a place where you were known and loved and embraced? Have you ever tasted a moment of homecoming or is such a moment still a dream? Try to recall a time when you “awakened” to a sense of peace and happiness.

• Perhaps you were a child and you awoke on Christmas morning full of expectation and desire.
• Maybe it was the morning after your wedding day and you awoke to birds singing, sun shining, and you basked in the warmth of your beloved sleeping beside you.
• Could it be the time you “woke up” and realized you get paid to do work you enjoy so much you’d do for nothing?
• Maybe you can recall a moment when the light of Christ came to you and you awakened to a sense that in that moment you found yourself exquisitely, unexplainably happy.

A little practice for awakening

The images of homecoming, invitation, and waking from sleep are central to spiritual awakening.   Each image probably has powerful connections to your own life. So, sit with them for a while. Don’t hurry.

Here's a little exercise:

You might explore some of your earliest experiences, those you could label as experiences with God.

I remember vividly a “wake-up invitation” that came to me when I was a teenager, probably thirteen or fourteen. I thought I had things figured out and God was one thing I figured was certainly out—I was an atheist. But on a family fly-fishing trip in the San Juan Mountains of western Colorado, I was tromping through the high country chasing rainbow trout with Stan, an old family friend, and an expert fly-fisherman. I respected him greatly and knew he was not a religious man.

It had just rained and, though soaked to the bone, I can still recall the fresh scent of the slippery willows and pine trees we were crashing through. The sky had opened up and boasted a dazzling rainbow set against a bright blue sky.

Stan stopped and said half to himself and half to me: “Sometimes I’ve a sense that I’m involved in something much greater than I am.” And then he headed back down along the trail.

That moment holds a special place in my life; it’s the first invitation to come home to God that I can remember.

What moment or moments can you point to when light broke into your life, even if it was for no longer than a flash of insight?  Where were you?  What was happening?  What did that moment plant in your soul?  Did something shut it down or did something open it up further?

All that is needed is right under your nose

“[What we seek] is not distant from us nor is it external to us,” taught St. Anthony of Egypt nearly sixteen hundred years ago. “Its realization lies within us and the work is easy if only we want it. The Greeks leave home and cross the seas in order to gain an education, but there is no need for us to go away on account of the Kingdom of God nor need we cross the sea in search of virtue. For the Lord has told us, ‘The kingdom of God is within you.’ All that is needed for goodness is that which is within the human heart”.

The Wisdom of the Desert Fathers, ed. Benedicta Ward

The transformation of your life requires a journey

The transformation of your life, the recovery of prayer and the discovery of all you seek will require a journey. This journey is not from one place to another. Rather, it's a pilgrimage into the deepest places within you where God dwells in fullness.  As scandalous as that sounds, it's a universal truth—all who've sought God and found what they were looking for will tell you that.

I once traveled farther than the Magi traveled in search of all this only to find that what I was looking for was right beneath my nose: close as my next breath, near as the beating of my heart.

Such long distance trips to find God are unnecessary and can even distract you from looking to the only place you’re going to find what you’re looking for: your heart.

Prayer: not some genii's lamp

Prayer is coming home—to God and to ourselves, to heaven and earth and all that fills them. Prayer is waking up to Life itself. It is opening to grace.

But prayer's been so terribly reduced in our day. For most, it's more like rubbing a Genii's lamp than an encounter with the Beloved, whose aim is the glorious transformation of our lives into the fullness of our humanity, which is also the cradle of Divinity: the God who permeates and pervades all creation, even, or more accurately, especially . . . us.