(A final word from Paul E. Miller’s book A Loving Life)
Part three, “Learning To Think in Love,” contains the most challenging yet helpful direction, particularly chapter 19. In describing discovering God on the journey of love, Miller digs into two main thoughts: the shadowy presence of God in our lives and the need to embrace the hard things in life to live out love.
God’s presence in the book of Ruth mirrors his presence in our lives. It is subtle. He doesn’t leap out like he did with Moses and the plagues in Egypt. If God regularly showed himself like he did at the Red Sea or the resurrection, there would be no room for relationship…By staying in the shadows, at the edge of the story, God creates the need for faith and thus intimacy. The hiddenness of God builds our faith muscles.
A practical illustration of how we live this out is in conversations. Living in the shadows looks like staying small, deliberately on the edge so others can emerge and come alive facilitated by our humility.
Not easy. Particularly in conflict or when things aren’t going as planned or expected. Ruth and Naomi’s journey was filled with hard.
Ruth discovers God and his blessing as she obeys, as she submits to the life circumstances that God has given her. So instead of running from the really hard thing in your life, embrace it as a gift from God to draw you into his life.
Christmas 2024 led me to encounter an Advent Christian worship event for the first time. I found it meaningful enough to find others to attend this month. Between the two seasons, I actually went to four of them. They are called Blue Christmas services.
A Blue Christmas service, also called a Longest Night Service, is a Christian worship event during Advent (around Dec 21st) offering comfort and hope for those struggling with grief, loss, loneliness, or pain during the holidays, acknowledging sorrow alongside traditional Christmas joy through prayer, scripture, reflection, music, and candle lighting to find light in darkness. (AI overview)
Each of the four services were unique, largely due to denominational (Lutheran, Methodist, Metropolitan Community, and nondenominational) practices. All left me feeling like the clergy took the service to heart and were not going through motions. As one feels when they allow their grief to be seen and acknowledged, I left each service lighter.
The Lutheran service I attended this December 21st actually left me with joy. Besides the pastor, I was most likely the youngest person of the roughly 30 attendees. These senior saints embraced their faith with such passion that any grief in the room was lifted and hope was offered as a replacement. One particular singer, George, made me smile. I’m guessing he was in his 80s. I will remember his singing for a long time.
The prior Wednesday I attended the service at Church of the Trinity. The intention and detail of that service caught me by surprise. Close to half of the service was interactive. Not in a pushy or uncomfortable expectation, but in a welcoming and inviting sense of togetherness. The team of four ministers served their people in these ways:
Holding them
Providing space for personal choices
Leading by example
Leading by going first
Walking alongside
Not rushing
Being with
Inviting all to participate
One quote was shared in the opening remarks that said something like this:
Grief is the transitioning from pain and loss to hope and light.
As we all left, it seemed heavy hearts had been emptied, grim faces were now smiling, and tears were turned to singing.
I’m thankful to have found these traditions. Makes me wonder if they don’t paint an equally vivid reminder of the Messiah’s entrance into our world.
The following chapter in Hartgrove’s book warns, “Buckle Up!”
After encouraging nurturing roots of love, he immediately offers that you can expect spiritual challenges. His first reference retells the story of the desert monastics’ “describing the ‘noonday devil’ who attacks after one commits to stay and begins to feel the heat of high noon.”
This is where the book’s subtitle, “Rooting Faith in a Mobile Culture,” gets highlighted. To stay, to root, to pursue stability “against the seas of constant change makes us susceptible to temptations we would not otherwise have occasion to know.”
The practice of stability cannot be reduced to a quick fix for the spiritual anxiety of a placeless people. It is a process. It takes time…To persevere in the process that leads to real growth, we must learn to name and resist the midday demons.
These are the three midday demons:
Ambition’s Whisper
Boredom’s Rut
Vainglory’s Delusion
I’m quite familiar with the first two. They often show face at high noon. Hartgrove offers several countermoves to these temptations focused on both spirit and body including physical activity, engaging community, and dying well.
This book, available on hoopla and an easy weekend read, is worthwhile. If you only read chapters four and five of this book, you will be enriched. However much you read, you’ll find yourself wiser and pondering your stability.
Last Fall I read Krispin Mayfield’s Attached to God.
I wrote one post about a lament exercise he outlined, but I never offered my thoughts about the whole book once I finished. Today, I finished rereading it. Time to share.
I’m a little obsessed.
My hunch is that anyone wishing to understand or improve their relationships with humans and with God would also believe Mayfield delivers on the subtitle’s promise of a practical guide. His effort to breakdown attachment science then connect it to one’s relational experience with God produces clarity and hope for any breakdown to be restored.
Of all my highlights, here are three to whet your appetite.
Distance happens in all relationships. (Chapter 1, “The Still Face of God”)
A friend of mine recently made a self awareness by saying, “I guess I live in a fantasy world.” I’d say that’s true for many professing Christians in regards to their beliefs about how close they are expected to feel to God at all times. Mayfield argues human relationship with God is like our other relationships-distance happens.
I was in my 30s before I fully accepting this truth. Many close friends moved and distance happened. It’s normal. That doesn’t provide comfort or easy acceptance, just normalcy. Learning how to respond to distance in a secure way is worth the effort, for you and for the relationship.
Information doesn’t change your beliefs, experience does. (Chapter 4, “Shutdown Spirituality”)
When religious folks get their head around this one, attachment shifts. And it’s a struggle. Why? We are programmed that attending church or a study group is the sole means of establishing beliefs. Any transparent pastor or counselor would most likely agree with Mayfield. They’ve seen how experiences affirm or alter beliefs, in their own lives and in those they serve.
From my experience, this has definitely played out the last 15 years for me. Traveling to other countries, visiting other denominational churches, and dialoguing with Christians on the other side of all kinds of aisles has made me check my beliefs. And yes, some have changed.
In any authentic relationship, there’s room for real talk. (Chapter 10, “The Risk of Trust”)
When people describe what the younger generations are looking for in their attachment to religion and God, the word authentic comes up regularly. I believe age doesn’t matter; we all hunger for it. This 57-year-old does.
RECOMMENDATION: For all your attachment seasons, secure or insecure in any relationships including God, this book deserves space in your library.
After reading The Lord is My Courage on hoopla, a related title was suggested which I decided to read because of the unique promise. That promise was a look at this poem from the basis of the author’s years as a keeper of sheep. It did not disappoint.
An overall takeaway is just how near death sheep can be unless their shepherd relentlessly cares for them. Keller explains that David’s poem actually addresses all four seasons in a year of a sheep’s life and what is necessary for the sheep to “not want.”
The strange thing about sheep is that because of their very makeup it is almost possible for them to be made to lie down unless four requirements are met…They are free of all fear, free from friction, free of pests, and free from hunger. (Chapter 3, “He Makes Me Lie Down in Green Pastures”)
In that same chapter he explains that a flock that is restless, discontented, always agitated, and disturbed never does well. Sound familiar? The value of being made to lie down is to our benefit.
The most vivid image Keller paints comes in chapter five, “He Restores My Soul.” He draws a parallel between another familiar David passage in Psalm 42:11, “Why are you downcast, O my soul? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God…”
Only those acquainted with sheep and their habits understand the significance of a “cast” sheep or a “cast down” sheep.
This is an old English shepherd’s term for a sheep that has turned over on its back and cannot get up again by itself.
A cast sheep is a very pathetic sight. Lying on its back, its feet in the air, it flays away frantically struggling to stand up, without success. Sometimes it will bleat a little for help, but generally it lies there lashing about in frightened frustration.
If the owner does not arrive on the scene within a reasonably short time, the sheep will die…Nothing seems to so arouse his constant care and diligent attention to the flock as the fact that even the largest, fattest, strongest, and sometimes healthiest sheep can become cast and be a casualty.
He goes on to describe what’s required when he finds a cast ewe, which includes rubbing limbs to restore circulation after picking her up one or more times until she regains equilibrium and starts to walk steadily and surely.
One final noteworthy thought is this one from chapter 7, “Even Though I Walk Through the Valley.” Keller shares that this is a turn in the poem not only from the viewpoint but also in the season being described, how summer and autumn look for the shepherd and his flock. Keller explains David’s firsthand experience by making this statement: “Never did he take his flock where he had not already been before.”
If you find yourself today in search of freedom, or lying on your back flaying, or walking through the valley, rest assured your shepherd is with you. He has what you need. He’s watching over you. I encourage you to find a way to read this book to let those truths grow roots in your heart, mind, and soul.
Finished listening to Seeing with the Eyes of the Heart today. One of the last discussion points centered on the reality we all encounter of facing aloneness.
Adyashanti stated he believed almost no one understood Jesus, making him one of the most alone figures in spiritual literature. To explain what he meant, his reply included these thoughts about aloneness.
Engaging spirituality in an authentic way will bring us to encountering our aloneness many, many, many times…Ironically the greatest feeling of belonging comes through these deep and profound encounters with our aloneness. It’s so paradoxical that our greatest sense of belonging comes by going through those doorways of aloneness…We almost always try to do end runs around aloneness, finding surrogates for the experience of aloneness rather than really meeting it…We’re all one. That’s a really great and nice thing. But we all are simultaneously very unique expressions of the one. We all have our very unique journey that is not exactly like anyone else’s…Aloneness, in the ends, leads through the door not only to connectedness but a kind of spiritual autonomy.
I relate.
There is an aloneness on the journey of making your faith yours, not anyone else’s. Think of any faith decision you’ve made to this point that was lifechanging or formative. It came down to you making that choice by yourself. Those decisions, those moments rooted you, grounded you, expanded the territory of your faith, and girded your faith in such a way that it no longer relied on another person’s faith.
Yet, because of that, you now have the strength, the maturity, or the allure to those in your faith community that draws people to inquire how you got it. And the connectedness is more about the kingdom than you. Your aloneness that you walked through, whether you wanted to or not, brightens your image of God. It’s attractive while also preparatory for your next round of aloneness.
These thoughts remind me of this quote:
“Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don’t be afraid.” -Frederick Buechner, Beyond Words
Beautiful and terrible await you in aloneness. Don’t be afraid.
Roughly a third of the way in, Adyashanti asked to address the topic of forgiveness. His thoughts were striking.
At one level I think the greatest forgiveness is when we really see that there’s no need for forgiveness because everything is inherently, consistently forgiven. It’s human beings that decide we are sort of God’s arbitrators of who can and cannot be forgiven, and it disconnects us from the experience of the way forgiveness works in the universe.
No need for forgiveness seems utopian. Yet, his reasoning is captivating. He’s not saying there is no literal need for forgiveness. He’s suggesting we must task ourselves to learn how it works, first from God and then between humans.
Some of Jesus’ last words on the cross were “Forgive them for they know not what they do,” referring to the people who put him there. If you are on the cross and you can forgive the people who put you there, that’s a pretty big forgiveness. You’re forgiving hate, and you’re forgiving violence…there’s a great teaching in that. If he couldn’t have forgiven them, he could have never been free from them. He would have been trapped in their hate because he couldn’t forgive their hate. He would have been trapped in their violence because he couldn’t forgive their violence…Ignorance can take some pretty violent forms…Most people are pretty much doing what they can do. What they are doing is an exact reflection of the state of their consciousness.
The striking image of these thoughts is being trapped. Couple that with being trapped in hate or violence with the foundation being the other person’s ignorance, forgiveness not only seems possible but desirable.
If we have no forgiveness, our participation in the world is seared with anger and hate, even if we are working with something that is very necessary and good. This motivation seems to come from fear rather than love.
May our searing be exposed. May love overcome our fear.
Hullabaloo is not a party I enjoy. So forgive me if I’m eight years late to The Shack conversation (referring to the movie; 18 years since the book publication).
My free evening in Las Vegas was not going to be about hullabaloo either. So I turned on the TV for the first time in four days to see what I could find to watch. Up popped The Shack. It was time.
Papa (Octavia Spencer) and Mack Phillips (Sam Worthington) in “The Shack.” (Photo Credit: Jake Giles Netter)
As the story unfolded, I was drawn to all the one liners; so I started this draft to share the ones that got my attention the most. Here are those four.
“Don’t forget we love each other.”
Nan, the wife, said this to Mack, her husband. He was withdrawn, and she wanted to find a way to reach him. This was a good reminder for those who are tempted to isolate when dealing with pain. Remember that people love you…and that you love them.
“Love always leaves a mark.”
God said this to Mack. Mack was expressing doubt and lack of trust in God’s love due to all the pain in his life. He learned that he was judging God, blinding him from just how much God loved him and everyone in his life, even the ones who had hurt him. This line was God expressing the extent of his love for Mack.
“You have no idea how much I’m doing right now.”
Mac was trying to make a joke about what God was doing. And his judgment brought this response. What a reminder! Our finite minds find it hard to comprehend exactly what all is going on in the universe and God’s part in it. Our humility grows when we consider the magnitude of that work.
“Does what I do really matter?”
This was Mack’s question toward the end of the movie. It caught my attention because it somewhat seemed to come out of left field. Yet, anyone floundering in their pain would most likely eventually ask this question. Purpose has a way of healing wounds.
Yes, one could dislike the movie and the book for theological reasons. Being late to the party, I’m choosing to listen and grow, one line at a time.
Finished listening to Steven Charleston’s Ladder to the Light this afternoon. I’m fairly certain I checked it out after following a reference in Becoming Rooted.
Charleston’s ladder analogy is the crux of the book, seen by these chapter titles:
Charleston’s explanation of a kiva lays the foundation for why and how the darkness we experience should and can be addressed. A gradual ascent on each rung takes you out of the darkness and into the light.
Charleston’s theology is a mix of various religions, but its basis is Christianity. What I found most connecting for anyone of any religion is his constant contrast between the darkness and the light. We may not all agree on what falls in the category of dark, but hopefully we all could agree on the need to climb out of it.
The authors of both of these books have broadened my faith through their meditations, convictions, and actions based on their faith. I believe you could find the same by reading or listening to these works.
FYI, Charleston posts daily spiritual reflections on his facebook page. Follow this link.
John Gregory 