Learning to Walk in the Dark (book review)

I enjoy a writer who makes you think, or at least presents something ordinary unordinarily. Barbara Brown Taylor is definitely in this category.

In this second of her books I’ve read she gives you a different approach to thinking about darkness.

One beautiful way she does this is by showing you the value of darkness in biblical stories. She says the night sky was a key player in Abraham’s decision to trust God when he was told to “count the stars.” She spends a great amount of words on Moses’ encounters with God in the dark.

The God of Moses is holy, offering no seat belts or other safety features to those who wish to climb the mountain and enter the dark cloud of divine presence. Those who go assume all risk and give up all claim to reward. Those who return say the dazzling dark inside the cloud is reward enough.

Chapter 2, The Fear of the Lord

As you can imagine, much of the book addresses the emotions that come from fearing the dark. She believes that’s actually an indicator of something going on inside of us.

Our comfort or discomfort with the outer dark is a good barometer of how we feel about the inner kind.

Chapter 3, Hampered by Brilliance

A fascinating approach to her research for the book included cave exploration. With aid from professionals, she spent time sitting in the dark in caves and exploring portions of caves that demanded she address her fears. One takeaway: new life starts in the dark.

Whether it is a seed in the ground, a baby in the womb, or Jesus in the tomb, it starts in the dark.

Chapter 6, Entering the Stone

A spiritual book about darkness is most likely not complete without a chapter on the dark night of the soul. Taylor’s coverage is exhaustive from both sides of the topic as well as from the individual to the communal. The most helpful section was her description of the difference between faith and belief. Sharing about her observations as a college professor, she gives this distinction about questions college students are asking or are being asked:

When I listen to college students talk about faith, beliefs are what interest them most: Do you believe in the virgin birth? Do you believe that Jesus died for your sins? Do you believe that only Christians go to heaven? No one asks, “On what is your heart set?” No one asks, “What powers do you most rely on? What is the hope that gives meaning to your life?” Those are questions of faith, not belief. The answers to them are not written down in any book, and they have a way of shifting in the dark.

Chapter 7, The Dark Night of the Soul

I’ve already suggested this book to a few folks-one running friend who avoids running in the early morning hours, one coaching client who feels distant from God. Whether you are struggling with physical or spiritual darkness, I’d encourage you to give this book a read. See what you learn.

The Unhappiness We Create

Jacques Lusseyran (1924-1971) was a blind author, professor, and leader of the French Resistance in WWII. At age 19, Lusseyran was arrested and spent nearly 15 months in the Nazis’ Buthenwald concentration camp. When the U.S. army arrived, Lusseyran was one of roughly 30 survivors of a transport of 2,000 French citizens.

In this collection of Lusseyran’s essays, he recounts becoming blind at age seven, reactions to societal progression, and observations from Buthenwald.

Essay #1, “The Blind in Society,” is his revelation that after his blindness he became aware of an inner light. Here’s one illustration of his observation of that light:

When I was overcome with sorrow, when I let anger take hold of me, when I envied those who saw, the light immediately decreased. Sometimes it even went out completely. Then I became blind. But this blindness was a state of not loving anymore, of sadness; it was not the loss of one’s eyes.

In the final essay, “Poetry in Buchenwald,” Lusseyran shares the power of poetry. His sharing of poetry with fellow prisoners brought hope and happiness. From that, he had this to say about unhappiness:

Unhappiness comes to each of us because we think ourselves at the center of the world, because we have the miserable conviction that we alone suffer to this point of unbearable intensity. Unhappiness is always to feel oneself imprisoned in one’s own skin, in one’s own brain.

I share these two thoughts to record them for future reference. I also share them in hopes that we move more toward love to eliminate the unhappiness we create in ourselves.

Dear Keith

I can’t explain it. You totally caught me off guard, and honestly, sort of freaked me out.

Friday at lunch I was telling LeeAnn a story. Like a flash in a dream, there you were sitting beside her. And you were gone as soon as you had come. You took my breath away. And then I probably freaked her out.

I couldn’t take my eyes off the empty booth across from me. I couldn’t speak, overwhelmed with shocks of joy and sadness. The sight of you right beside her just like it was a normal day here on earth was simultaneously bizarre, natural, and beautiful.

When I finally composed myself, all I could say to LeeAnn to explain my sudden pause was, “I wish Keith was here to hear this story.” Typical LeeAnn, she flowed with it. But she said something that still has me thinking. After stating she wished the same thing, she told me my moment was honoring. I suppose it was.

I was at your memorial service. I didn’t share anything from the stage. So I never publicly shared any statements of honor. But apparently, twelve years later, it’s coming out. Had I had the opportunity to say something then, who knows what I would have said. But having had you on my mind for two days, here are three things I honor you for.

You took phone calls. It’s been almost 15 years since we had a very memorable phone call. I was beside myself. You were steady as a rock. You talked me off the ledge and gave me courage when mine was gone. Because of your faithful presence to your friends, many of us carried on when we thought it was impossible.

You cheered. No, I’m not talking about for Alabama, although that’s true. I’m talking about your unending support for anyone pursuing growth, needing support, or lacking that “I believe in you” voice. I’m guessing it was true for men and women, but you seemed to have a God-given heart for guys that is rare and therefore highly valuable.

You gave. The fact that you X-men-like showed up at lunch testifies to this. But the biggest testament to this is what I see now in your family. They carry on the giving. They know how to give because you modeled it and never stopped.

No, you weren’t physically at Ferraro’s on Friday. But without question, you were spiritually. If my tears and these words honor you, so be it. I’m grateful to have seen you and to have been reminded of these important ways you blessed so many.

Thank you for joining the booth…Roll Tide!

Photo by Ambitious Studio* – Rick Barrett on Unsplash

Now I Know Why

Rarely do I regret reading a book. Actually, if I think that’s going to be the case, I don’t finish it. Again, that’s rare.

However, often I finish a book and think, “I’m glad I read it. It’s not for everyone, but maybe there’s someone I’ll be able to share this book with.” That’s exactly what happened today.

The last book I read was Finding God in the Waves by Mike McHargue. Actually, I listened to it through Hoopla on audio. I believe I came across it by reference in another book I read earlier this year, so I put it in my queue.

I hadn’t heard of McHargue. But apparently his writings and podcasts have created a stir. I see why, which is why I know his book isn’t for everyone. But I met Dave today, and it was obvious I had to share this book with him.

Why isn’t important. What’s important is that sometimes we’re fortunate to experience firsthand, and even within days, what God is up to. We can wonder and be curious. Sometimes we see it; sometimes we don’t. I counted it a rich moment to say to Dave, “Now I know why I read that book.”

Photo by kaleb tapp on Unsplash

An Altar in the World, Meditation #6

On recommendation, I recently read An Altar in the World by Barbara Brown Taylor. It’s subtitled A Geography of Faith. In the spirit of that lane, rather than offer a review I’ve selected my top highlights and will offer a meditation post for each one. Here’s the final quote:

Anything can become a spiritual practice once you are willing to approach it that way-once you let it bring you to your knees and show you what is real, including who you really are, who other people are, and how near God can be when you have lost your way.

Chapter 5, The Practice of Getting Lost

Chapter 5 is a ride. Taylor takes something bane like getting lost to illustrate her point that anything can become a spiritual practice.

I can’t say I get lost on purpose, but I understand her point. Getting lost viewed through the lens of “maybe there’s a reason” certainly requires some discipline and regulation. What I have done on purpose is take new streets, driving or running, just to see what’s on them. This past Saturday, in fact.

I had an event to attend downtown Sarasota Friday night. Instead of driving home to West Bradenton afterwards, I booked an Airbnb just south of downtown. Main reason: to run the Ringling Bridge the next morning. It had been too long, so I felt like it was worth it. Of the overall 7.28 miles of the run, besides the bridge, I had never ran any of those streets. I purposefully returned back a different way than I had approached the bridge. The two best sections of the run was by the Bay on Mound then through and around Payne Park.

I agree with Taylor. Growth happens when you lean in to purposefully embrace the unfamiliar. And whether that unfamiliar was planned or not, your peace and trust are revealed. Who couldn’t benefit from that?

Now I’m remembering running on some very unknown streets in 2012. That summer I took my first international trip, to Belarus of all places. The purpose of that trip wasn’t to run or pleasure traveling, but to teach ESL classes through a supporting church. Many disciplines were bundled together on that trip; they still bring me to my knees, show me what is real, who I am, and who other people are. I may never forget running in that country. It was spiritual.

What practice of yours, if looked at differently, could become spiritual? Grilling? Baking? Fishing? Painting? Ask God to show you the way. May you find a new altar in your world.

An Altar in the World, Meditation #5

On recommendation, I recently read An Altar in the World by Barbara Brown Taylor. It’s subtitled A Geography of Faith. In the spirit of that lane, rather than offer a review I’ve selected my top highlights and will offer a meditation post for each one. Here’s quote #5:

To become fully human means growing gentler toward human weakness. It means practicing forgiveness of my and everyone else’s hourly failures to live up to divine standards.

Chapter 7, The Practice of Living with Purpose

What Taylor is describing in the paragraph containing this quote is her view of loving God and neighbor as oneself. She calls that the vocation of becoming fully human. These thoughts are two of the six she offers to explain what she means. They are all examples of living with purpose.

What if we all were working toward growing more gentle?

What if we all were empathetic toward other’s weaknesses?

What if we all were forgiving toward failures, including our own?

What if we all were after the glory of God?

What if we all were becoming fully human?

Photo by freestocks on Unsplash

An Altar in the World, Meditation #4

On recommendation, I recently read An Altar in the World by Barbara Brown Taylor. It’s subtitled A Geography of Faith. In the spirit of that lane, rather than offer a review I’ve selected my top highlights and will offer a meditation post for each one. Here’s quote #4:

Our bodies remain God’s best way of getting to us.

Chapter 3, The Practice of Wearing Skin

One might argue there are other ways just as impactful that God gets to us, but Taylor makes an interesting point. Whether through our body loathing, our seasons of suffering, or our comparing our bodies to our neighbor’s, we certainly have many opportunities for more of God.

I believe a good chunk of these opportunities revolve around the work of acceptance. Accepting the diagnosis, the loss, the genes, the future produces humility, alignment, focus, and peace that may only come through the avenue of our bodies.

I’ve had few physical challenges in my 55 years of life. The main one I’ve dealt with in recent years is a Schatzki’s Ring. If that’s a new term to you, you’re not alone. Bottom line: I have to be careful and alert to food getting stuck in my esophagus.

It’s more annoying than anything, but it has caused me to attune to myself and others in ways I hadn’t before. It all started in a Miami restaurant in 2014 when I had no idea what was going all. All I knew was my chest was tightening, and everything I had eaten wasn’t going to stay in my body. Since then this has happened in friend’s homes, multiple restaurants, even on stage this past Sunday. That was weird. Try singing with a wedged orange slice on the verge of shooting out of your mouth-a whole new method of God getting your attention.

I’ve learned many lessons from these situations. I believe the key one is the value of lowering our guards. Here are three lived examples of what I mean:

  • Lower your guard rather than hiding behind any sense of embarrassment or shame when you have to excuse yourself from the table.
  • Lower your guard rather than exploding in anger or pride when you have to seek help for something you can’t explain or fix.
  • Lower your guard rather than ignoring the obvious and making matters worse for you and those in your company.

How does that connect to God getting to me through my body, in this case a Schatzki Ring?

  • My guard hinders his releasing my shame.
  • My guard halts his providing my desperately needed healing.
  • My guard eliminates his growing and maturing me and therefore my community.

May we pray, “God, even in my body, get to me however you want. I’m all yours.”

An Altar in the World, Meditation #3

On recommendation, I recently read An Altar in the World by Barbara Brown Taylor. It’s subtitled A Geography of Faith. In the spirit of that lane, rather than offer a review I’ve selected my top highlights and will offer a meditation post for each one. Here’s quote #3:

How often we are embarrassed to do and say the things that really affect us.

Chapter 12, The Practice of Pronouncing Blessings

This one is a pickle. It is a What If-er’s nightmare. “If I say how I’m really feeling, how will they respond?” “If I make this decision, will my friends understand?” On and on.

Taylor advocates for two things in this chapter: 1) embrace blessing all things and 2) speak from your heart.

The first time I gave an unexpected, heartfelt blessing was in a letter to my college best friend and his fiancee. I was surprised how much it touched them. From that I learned we don’t practice blessing enough. It’s a foreign language.

To improve our skills, as simple as it sounds, it all begins with the word “may”. “May” frames the future, a future where potential is realized and hopes are fulfilled. When introducing a spiritual blessing, “may” invites the work and hand of God with reverence and promise. No matter the person, no matter the present, everyone could stand to hear a blessing, a word to affect today and tomorrow.

To the newborn, speak a blessing.

To the estranged, speak a blessing.

To the groundbreakers, speak a blessing.

To the paralyzed, speak a blessing.

To the faithful, speak a blessing.

To the wanderer, speak a blessing.

To the one in the mirror, speak a blessing.

To the One above all others, speak a blessing.

Photo by Glen Carrie on Unsplash

An Altar in the World, Meditation #2

On recommendation, I recently read An Altar in the World by Barbara Brown Taylor. It’s subtitled A Geography of Faith. In the spirit of that lane, rather than offer a review I’ve selected my top highlights and will offer a meditation post for each one. Here’s quote #2:

Human beings may separate things into as many piles as we wish-separating spirit from flesh, sacred from secular, church from world. But we should not be surprised when God does not recognize the distinctions we make between the two.

Chapter 1, The Practice of Waking Up to God

Taylor’s quote comes at the end of the chapter where she has offered the teaching that God can show up in any space or through any means he chooses. In that moment, we have the opportunity to erect an altar-take note and mark that spot where God revealed himself. Her biblical example is Jacob’s reaction to the ladder dream. Because he knew he had encountered God, he paused and created a marker of significance.

Makes me think of Paul David Tripp’s teaching about two-drawer living. God doesn’t instruct us to live two separate lives-one for him and one for ourselves. Everything belongs in one drawer. The challenge is to view more and more of life as an encounter with him, a journey with him, an alertness that he’s always here.

Case in point: Sunday after church I had three hours to kill before attending an event in another town. I decided to google a new place to eat, try something different. I ended up at Blu’ Island Bistro. When I pulled in the parking lot, I wasn’t quite sure. But I said to myself, “Trust the reviews.”

It’s not a big place, but it has charm. I immediately felt it when I walked through the door. And here’s the thing: IT NEVER STOPPED.

Besides the quick seating, the perfect plate portion, the excellent tacos, and almost just right sweet tea, no one, and I mean no one, lacked joy. Not a customer. Not an employee. Everyone seemed happy to be there. I literally said to myself, “I should tell my pastor that I found the restaurant that feels like church.”

I stopped counting how many servers checked on me. I believe it was six. That’s a little crazy. And I don’t mean annoying crazy. I mean “thank you for your care” crazy.

I didn’t just encounter God between 10:00 and 11:00AM Sunday morning. I encountered him at the restaurant, then at the beach, then at the ice cream shop, and then at the event. How? I was looking for him. And the altar I erected? I gave the restaurant a Google review, I’m posting this blog, and I thanked God for putting everything in one pile.

Photo by Jack B on Unsplash

An Altar in the World, Meditation #1

On recommendation, I recently read An Altar in the World by Barbara Brown Taylor. It’s subtitled A Geography of Faith. In the spirit of that lane, rather than offer a review I’ve selected my top highlights and will offer a meditation post for each one. Here’s quote #1:

Faith sometimes looks like a blunt refusal to stop speaking into the divine silence.

Chapter 10, The Practice of Feeling Pain

In the face of betrayal, keep speaking.

In the face of confusion, keep speaking.

In the face of loss, keep speaking.

When fear says, “No one cares,” refuse to listen.

When doubt says, “No one’s listening,” refuse to isolate.

When impatience says, “No one’s responding,” refuse to self-muzzle.

There is a time to be blunt.

There is a time to be persistent.

There is a time to be verbose.

If God is silent, might it be because he wants to keep hearing from you?

If God is silent, might it be because he’s respecting your need to process?

If God is silent, might it be because he’s taking a moment to appreciate your faith?

Photo by Harli Marten on Unsplash