Searching for Sacred

Advent begins on Sunday. It is the time of waiting and preparation for Christ. Advent is the beginning of the liturgical calendar; a new spiritual year. As I begin to make spiritual preparations for the coming year, I liken it to New Years and the making of resolutions. This year, my focus is on the spiritual concept of “steadfast.” Steadfast is defined as being firmly fixed in place; not subject to change; firm in belief, determination, or adherence. A part of me laughs at my goal. I know me and my cyclical/chaotic personality. I am an idea person quickly filled with enthusiasm regarding dreams, visions, and new concepts, but once the dream moves to actuality and the necessary details, I grow bored. Another part of me knows that integrating steadfastness into my life is critical in my pursuit of the sacred life. I do not wish to squash or dampen my personality. It has great assets in life and allows me to see possibilities in people, relationships, organizations, and empty buildi...

I am a rebel. Though I may be ultra-preppy, clean-cut, and rule-liking, nevertheless I am coming to grips with my inner rebellion. I can unpack this self-awareness many ways – examining impurities, flaws, self-righteousness, hypocrisy, pride, fierce independence, all of which are legit and deserve reflection, but this is not what I am talking about today. Last week was an “ah ha” moment for me. I sat across Sister Olga, a wise nun who also happens to have a Ph.D. in psychology. I meet with Sister Olga on a regular basis to wrestle with my anger and the intentional distance I hold between myself and God. Not exactly an easy task for myself or Sister Olga (thank goodness she is equipped to deal with my craziness!). I entered her office, sat on the couch, and promptly announced with intention to stir up some debate, “I am angrier with God than I have admitted in the past.” She was not moved. I again stated, “I would like to declare that if I am honest, I hate God.” Again, she was not p...

I sat with a group of students today who stated they would rather die than have their name disrespected. They went on to explain that they had “worked hard to build up their reputation” and they would not allow others to make them look foolish. These students reminded me that I do not walk the streets of their neighborhood. They told me I could not possibly understand what it is like to have someone disrespect them in the presence of women and other onlookers. They are partially right. I do not live in a violent neighborhood where the strongest survive and displaying vulnerability could cost one their life. I do not have parents that expect me to fight and would be ashamed if I walked away. I believe in turning the other cheek and walking away from violence. These students stated they “could not look themselves in the mirror” had they walked away from defending their reputation. I would be ashamed if I had fought back. And then I ponder. These children are handed a script of values....

I had a conversation with an “old” friend on Friday. We were camp buddies throughout elementary and junior high school. For a brief moment, we remembered Sugar Creek Camp and I specifically remembered Elizabeth Davey, my beloved camp counselor. I remember Elizabeth for helping me and another camper pull pranks on the other counselors (most likely to avoid being pranked herself). Mostly though, I remember Elizabeth for sitting beside me in silence as I searched for words to describe my inner experience. Those words never came in the six summers I attended camp, but Elizabeth did not seem to mind. She sat there; often in silence. There are others in my life who have granted me the grace and blessing of presence – Lois Deyo, Lori Phillips, Karen Hartmann . . . just to name a few. These are women who loved without conditions and gave with no expectations. I remember intentionally getting in trouble in the sixth grade only to have a “bathroom lecture” from Mrs. Deyo. It was usually the sa...

I recently watched the movie Doubt . I was left pondering the role of doubt in my own life. The film begins with a sermon given by the character Father Flynn and he stated, “Doubt can be more of a bond than certainty.” I get doubt. Or perhaps a better statement, doubt gets me. From a humorous perspective, religious belief is rather crazy. Think about it, the story of Christianity includes a bush that burns but is not consumed, a donkey that talks, a virgin that gets pregnant, dead who are risen . . . let’s face it, not exactly rational and reasonable. I was taught that I can be sure of Christianity in comparison to the “faults” in other religions, but they are no more far reaching to believe than Christianity. Mormons who get their own planet is not so ridiculous when compared to the Christian belief that we will receive a mansion in heaven. No matter what our religion teaches us, it takes faith and trust to believe that it is true. It takes a degree of craziness (crazy as defined by...

In the search for intimate connection with God, I have come to realize how much I struggle (at times even hate) the idea of a “personal” God. For many years, my dislike centered on the idea of a personal and all-powerful God. I suppose I am like many who struggle with the idea of a personal and loving God allowing horrific and unfathomable things to happen to seemingly innocent people. While I contend that many bring on much of their own pain through destructive choices, I cannot say the same for children. I had a client, a not-quite teenage boy, who encountered abuse beyond description, and then once finally removed from his biological parents, was no longer able to feel safe enough to be loved. At a young age, he was already committing criminal acts and it was a matter of time before he was arrested only to enter into another system where love is sparse and perpetration commonplace. Where was this personal God during the innocent months of his infancy and toddlerhood? And then the qu...

One of my favorite Psalms is “Be still and know that I am God.” Recently, I have found myself meditating on this verse and the themes of resting, relaxing, and trusting. The more I attempt to incorporate these themes into my life, the more I find myself on the brink of something. I am not certain exactly where this is leading, but I know it somewhere deep; it is significant and it involves writing. Kathleen Norris (one of my favorite authors and thinkers) spoke of a writer as being a witness and essayist of life’s experiences. I like that. What I do not like is the dreadful thought -- what if the experience is my own inner struggle with trust, resting, and relaxing? Trusting God and having faith have never come easy for me. And while I have tried to ignore, reject, shut out, and plain not believe, this has yet to become a possibility for me. Francis Thompson wrote the poem,” The Hound of Heaven.” I can relate. The harder I run, the more I seem to be pursued by God. It is as...

My husband has described me as “a bull in a china shop.” While I resist this description and look for ways to prove it false, I must embrace another cliché, “if the shoe fits, wear it.” What fits is that I know what I want, and I want it now – this could be clean carpet, freshly ironed clothes, or a family fun day. I have grand ideas of self-improvement; embark on these demands full of energy and good intentions only to quickly run out of steam. The same fifteen pounds has made itself home in my body for the last ten years. Even now, as I chew away on a celery stick, I am conflicted with the thought that this health kick shall quickly fade away. And then I face my failure, my lack of discipline, my disappointment in myself (not too mention the chubs remaining on my body.) At times of anxiety and stress, I demand perfection from myself. I expect that I should be super-woman. I should be able to grow vegetables, have nutritious meals, read books to my children every night, write l...

I planted a vegetable garden this year -- a back row of giant sunflowers, a couple of rows of carrots, watermelon, tomatoes, and peas. Watching this garden grow has been nothing shy of watching daily miracles. The pea plants in particular have captivated my attention. What started out as tiny, hard seeds that looked like shriveled up peas have turned into intelligent plants! Peas are to be planted in a double row six inches apart. While I did not understand the rationale for this in the planting process, I definitely understand the need now. The plant grows “tentacle” vines that reach out and hold on to other pea plants (and sunflower stems) to support the branches. The pea plant literally reaches out to its neighbor both in need of help as well offering itself to the other plants to accommodate their needs. There are many lessons I have to learn from this intelligent plant. First is a lesson in faith and creation. From dirt and a small green ball has come the miracle of plant life. Fr...

“Amazing grace that saved a wretch like me.” How many of us are willing to look at our own wretchedness? It is easy to point the finger at another’s obvious shortcomings rather than take a good, honest look at ourselves. Some of us are rather lucky – we can cover up our wretchedness and hide it from the scrutiny of society. Others are not so fortunate. Over the last several months, I have had a few encounters that have left me pondering the idea of sin, judgment, and grace. A family friend became pregnant out of wedlock and a cloud of shame followed her. She lost her job because she could not hide her “mistake.” Her family thanked me for being so kind and understanding as if harsh criticism was the anticipated response. I had a second encounter with a woman who has struggled with obesity her entire life. She cannot hide her coping mechanisms – her body announces to the world that she finds comfort through food. Lately, I find myself thinking of these encounters and wondering how my lif...

A few years ago, there was a tragic accident involving Taylor University students. Two girls, one who died and one who was severely injured were misidentified. For months, one family grieved the loss of their daughter while the other sat hopefully by the bedside awaiting healing and recovery. It was only after several months of mourning and waiting that the two families learned the identities were mistaken. In an instant, one family “got their daughter back from the dead” while the other sadly buried their daughter. In national interviews following the breaking news of the tragedy surrounding the mistaken identity, the mother of the child who died was asked “Did you ever ask God why he would allow this to happen to you?” Her response surprised me as she answered with great wisdom, “No. Why should I be exempt from tragedy.” As a mother, I cannot imagine anything worse than losing a child. I do not know if I would have the same maturity to not give a regular shout out of “Why me!” While ...

For years I assumed that to value woman’s rights and equality meant that men and women should be treated equal. Equality meant that differences among the sexes were to be ignored. As a feminist, I fought for the right to be able to do all that a man can do, both in the workplace, the home, and within the religious realm. I fought hard battles . . . and mostly came out wounded and feeling misunderstood. My first “real” job was as a youth minister in a large evangelical church. I had entered a boys club – from church leadership to fellow colleagues, I was surrounded by men with few exceptions. I believed that my role was to be just one of the guys. This was not too difficult for me as I played guitar, loved sports, and had a general disdain towards nail polish and dresses. By silencing the woman within me, I short-changed the ministry. It was not until my late twenties that I began to respect my feminine side. It was not until I entered motherhood that I began to see it as a blessing and...

Mindfulness in Buddhist terms consists of being aware of one’s thoughts and actions in the present moment. Those who seek to practice mindfulness spend years meditating in order to clear their mind of distractions and barriers that would keep one from being aware. The early Christians (Monastics and Desert Fathers) wrote of being alert to the Spirit of God and awake to the Spirit’s movement and direction. In response to others, the early Christians spoke of the practice of hospitality, or availability to others. Within the tradition of psychotherapy, the concept of emotional availability enters the picture. In other words, when I am in the presence of another person I attune to the other’s needs, wants, and desires rather than being distracted by my own thoughts and feelings. To be in a state of availability is no easy task. There is a walking/biking trail near my home. One mile of the trail consists of a creek on one side and an open field of wild flowers on the other. When th...

The other day my almost three-year-old bumped her finger. This bump resulted in an invisible “boo boo” and a few shed tears. “Mommy, kiss it; kiss it, Mommy!” The magic medicine of a mother’s lips on a sore finger is usually all it takes for the tears to stop and my daughter to skip away happy and content. Unfortunately, this mommy had her hands full of dirty dishes and I could not provide an instant kiss and I told my daughter she would have to wait just a moment for that kiss. Her response shocked me. “That’s okay Mommy. I will just rub it on your shirt and it will be okay.” And like the magic kiss, she touched my shirt, the tears stopped, and she skipped away happy and content. My daughter’s solution to touch my shirt brought to mind the story of a woman seeking healing from Christ. She had enough faith and believed that if she only touched his garment, a garment worn by someone holy, she would be healed. And indeed, she touched his cloak and she was healed. I began to wo...

It was during the Easter Vigil of 2009 when I officially joined the Catholic Church. As a former Evangelical youth/non-profit director, my transition to Catholicism has raised many questions. One frequent question centers around the many rituals involved within Catholicism and how I find this to be beneficial. Ritual was a dominant motivation in my journey toward becoming Catholic (that and my belief in transubstantiation, but that is a topic for another day.) Faith has never come easy for me. I appreciate doubting Thomas and his need to see the evidence. For me, it was not so much a need to see the facts and evidence but rather a need to trust completely that which I was going to follow. I needed to trust before I could be vulnerable, be seen, and be known. I realize that an all-knowing God already knows, but I preferred to live with the illusion/delusion that in my lack of trust I could somehow remain invisible. When I was twenty, I hit a major “crisis of faith.” I felt n...

Recently I watched A Nun’s Story , a 1950’s Audrey Hepburn movie. I have been chewing on this movie since viewing it, especially on the themes of sacrifice and obedience. For those who have not seen the film, Audrey Hepburn’s character was a smart, intelligent, independent, free-spirited woman who joins the convent, voices her vows, and thus makes what was intended to be a lifelong covenant with the Church. In her process of becoming a nun, she learned about sacrifice and denying herself. Her life dream was to be a nurse in the African bush. She excelled in her studies of tropical medicine. And then she was asked to make a sacrifice – to intentionally fail her medical exam in order to tame her pride. She was unable to make this sacrifice and because of this, her talents were “wasted” and she spent a year working as a nurse in an insane asylum. She is eventually sent to be a nurse in Africa where she continued to wrestle with sacrificing her natural personality and talents in o...

I had a professor in graduate school that we affectionately called, “Yoda.” He was a wise, awkward man who looked and spoke like Yoda. His psychotherapy courses contained readings that required a general knowledge of calculus in order to fully understand. I, of course, dropped out of my high school calculus course to avoid receiving an inevitable failing grade. I would read Bion’s and Bollas’ depiction of object relations psychotherapy and comprehend very little of the content and yet I knew somewhere in the depths of my mind I was grasping something. Frequently I commented in class, “I know this makes sense, and I know a part of me understands it, but I simply cannot find the language to communicate it.” Eight years later, I still do not have the language. When I think of the soul and its encounters with God the same struggle to find language and words emerges. Rudolf Otto coined encounters with God as Numinous . The Numinous experience is something wholly other and outside human rea...