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.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Monday, August 30, 2010
The Slow Pace of Faith
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 love notes to my husband, comfort friends when they are troubled, feed the homeless . . . I should be able to do it all right now, at this season of life. Reality – my kids eat cheeseburgers and French fries and the garden flopped. Many nights, at the end of the day I am out of patience and long for the children to be quiet and go to sleep. Once the disappointment passes, I am reminded of a nun who had a sign over her doorpost, “I shall not should on myself.”
I want perfection in the physical realm as well as in my spiritual life. I want regular time for contemplation and meditation; I want connection with creation, passion that never fades, and my human deficiencies to be erased. I am coming to realize that I approach faith and the process of being made holy much like that bull in the china shop – I run after it with full zeal, only to realize that in my haste for perfection I have trampled upon the treasures.
Faith is a marathon, not a sprint. To approach it too quickly and demand instant results is to ignore the treasures along the way. To step into that which makes us anxious and uncomfortable is not popular. I do not hear people saying, “Oh yeah, I get to feel awkward and various emotional pains!” On the contrary, if you are anything like me, you will try anything to skip over the difficult emotions and experience the victory of the finish line. But the difficult is where we are met with our human condition – our vices, short-coming, yearnings, and passions. In the difficult, we find our needs and the Source of our fulfillment.
Faith is a slow meandering journey. We are meant to stop, look, examine, analyze, and pursue perfect intimacy with our Creator. When we allow ourselves to take the slow path, we enter the lifetime journey of coming to know the True Self, the self created in the image of God. It is a path that never ends, but around each bend are new details to behold and new dynamics to grasp. When we allow our anxiety and avoidant behaviors to rush us past discomfort, we miss the point of the journey. We find more of our false self and its many layers of unrealistic demands and traps of self-deceit. We miss opportunities to know God and willingly be known in return.
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 love notes to my husband, comfort friends when they are troubled, feed the homeless . . . I should be able to do it all right now, at this season of life. Reality – my kids eat cheeseburgers and French fries and the garden flopped. Many nights, at the end of the day I am out of patience and long for the children to be quiet and go to sleep. Once the disappointment passes, I am reminded of a nun who had a sign over her doorpost, “I shall not should on myself.”
I want perfection in the physical realm as well as in my spiritual life. I want regular time for contemplation and meditation; I want connection with creation, passion that never fades, and my human deficiencies to be erased. I am coming to realize that I approach faith and the process of being made holy much like that bull in the china shop – I run after it with full zeal, only to realize that in my haste for perfection I have trampled upon the treasures.
Faith is a marathon, not a sprint. To approach it too quickly and demand instant results is to ignore the treasures along the way. To step into that which makes us anxious and uncomfortable is not popular. I do not hear people saying, “Oh yeah, I get to feel awkward and various emotional pains!” On the contrary, if you are anything like me, you will try anything to skip over the difficult emotions and experience the victory of the finish line. But the difficult is where we are met with our human condition – our vices, short-coming, yearnings, and passions. In the difficult, we find our needs and the Source of our fulfillment.
Faith is a slow meandering journey. We are meant to stop, look, examine, analyze, and pursue perfect intimacy with our Creator. When we allow ourselves to take the slow path, we enter the lifetime journey of coming to know the True Self, the self created in the image of God. It is a path that never ends, but around each bend are new details to behold and new dynamics to grasp. When we allow our anxiety and avoidant behaviors to rush us past discomfort, we miss the point of the journey. We find more of our false self and its many layers of unrealistic demands and traps of self-deceit. We miss opportunities to know God and willingly be known in return.
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