Skip to main content

An Invitation.

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 if surrender is the only possibility for me despite my desperate resistance to let go. I cannot outrun God. Though I secretly cling to layers of anger and pride, I cannot silence the stirring voice inside that longs for intimacy with God.

A few months ago, I started meeting with Sister Olga for spiritual direction. She challenged me to find time every morning to sit in the presence of God, find a simple phrase to meditate on such as “let me know you love me”, and allow God to love me. While this sounds simple, it is profoundly difficult. I vacillate between “let me know you love me” and “I believe, help my unbelief.” As I sit (usually the duration of a cup of coffee), my eyes begin to fill with tears and I look for ways to avoid feeling anything. I find myself terrified of what is around the corner. Terrified of what the tears are about. Terrified to see and know the unknown. I assume it will be painful, though I know it is likely to also mean embarking on a journey of healing and reconciliation.

I am making a commitment to explore the depths of my soul. A commitment to take an honest look at the baggage and barriers which inhibit my trust. For those who wish to embark on this journey as a fellow traveler, I invite you to come with me.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Cave Walls

I am reading a book on Mother Teresa.   She is a mysterious woman, not much is known about her early years.   She spent nearly the first 20 years of her time as a nun working behind closed walls of a school in India.   There is no record of her venturing out into the slums and working directly with the poor during this time at the school.   One day, she had a vision to venture out beyond the walls of her comfort zone and live side by side with the poor.   It more time of formalities and bureaucracy before she was permitted to start her own Order, The Missionaries of Charity, and move outside the safety of her walls. I have spent the last few weeks meditating on my own walls.   More specifically, meditating on the walls of the wolf cave I find myself in (see the last blog for more details).   I have continued to meditate on “The Lord is My Shepherd” and experienced shifts in my soul.   I started with an image of me being alone in a dark, col...
1 comment
Read more

Losing my cool

If I could be any character in a play, it would be Jo March from Little Women.     Feisty, opinionated, tom-boy, not enjoying the dress-up activities that come with femininity, a closet writer . . . characteristics I know well.   There is a beautiful scene where Jo loses her temper (for the hundredth time) and Marmie comes to her side and talks about her own struggles with controlling her temper.   We never see the fighter in Marmie, but with her words she assures Jo she understands all too well her temperament.   I had a Jo and Marmie moment with my oldest today.  Ironically, her middle name is Josephine naming her after Jo March.   She lost her temper and threw her brother’s hair gel across the room leaving a trail of goop long and wide.   I saw the mess, grabbed paper towels, and firmly directed her toward the destructive path that was her responsibility to clean.   This then triggered a meltdown in the midst of the morning hustle o...
2 comments
Read more

Shitholes

For the last year, I have been shaking my head.   #45 opens his mouth, blasts a tweet, and continues to display rash, impulsive, racist, sexist, narcissistic behavior and I shake my head in disbelief.   Am I in a horrible dream?   Is this man really our president?   Is there still an enthusiastic following that justifies and excuses his behavior because he will bring socially conservative Supreme Court judges and tax breaks?   My heart breaks.   My soul aches.   Yes, this is the country I live in.   Yes, world, this is the one chosen by the electoral college to represent who we are.   I am embarrassed.   I can no longer sit back and shake my head.   I am looking for a new verb of social action to define my response to this nightmare. We as a nation are sitting upon a wealth of potential to end poverty and economic disparity, but we are choosing to blame the poor, the broken, the impoverished for our economic woes.   Germany...
1 comment
Read more