Alone Yet Connected

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.

Photo by Matt Le on Unsplash

3 Thoughts on Forgiveness

I’m in the middle of listening to Seeing With the Eyes of the Heart.

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.

Four One Liners from The Shack

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.

Ladder to the Light (book review)

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.

The Lord Is My Courage (book review)

I don’t recall what I thought I was going to get from K.J. Ramsey’s book The Lord Is My Courage. But here’s what I know I got:

  • New Language
  • Deeper Understanding
  • Fresh Appreciation

Ramsey’s approach to this subject is 1/4 part self-therapy, 1/4 part reader-therapy, 1/4 part church culture review, and 1/4 scripture exposition. That’s a lot. For her. And for the reader.

David, who wrote both Psalm 27 and Psalm 23, knew what it was like to have an enemy, knew how it felt to be afraid, and knew how much it hurt to wonder if you are heard.

Chapter 5, “He Makes Me Lie Down”

For this response, I took my time. Like a good meal, it’s better to pace yourself. The two chapters worth savoring the most were Chapters 5 and 20.

Chapter 5 includes nuggets rooted in a distinction of translation. Some scholars prefer a translation of the Greek to read “he settles me down” instead of “he makes me lie down.” Is that a big deal? To K.J., yes. “I thought God was a shepherd who made me lie down.  I needed to encounter God as a shepherd who settled me down.”

These kinds of bites are served throughout the book. The one I enjoyed the most was this one from chapter 20.

In John 16, Jesus is telling us, Peace is found only in my presence. And I will not leave you alone.

And then Jesus says to “take heart,” which can also be translated as “have courage,” telling us that our future is secure because he has already overcome the world.

Fear is just courage’s preamble. When we practice remembering that the Spirit of Christ is our companion, fear simply becomes one more prompt to pay attention to the voice and presence of Love. Fear doesn’t have to be an enemy to conquer. It can be a place to be companioned by Love.

Ramsey definitely follows the theme of the book, folded creatively in each chapter. Here are five illustrations:

  • “Courage is the practice of risking to trust that we have a Good Shepherd who is with us always-no matter what.”
  • “Courage is resisting the hurried pace of modern life and embracing the slower rhythm our bodies need to regulate and rise.”
  • “It takes courage to quit doing things for God to commune with God.”
  • “Courage is choosing to commune with someone who has already chosen to be with us.”
  • “Courage is simply the choice to be found.”

Is this book for you? If you enjoy the Psalms, yes. If you appreciate the integration of scripture and psychology, yes. If you are struggling with current or past church experiences, yes. If you like brain food, yes. If you could use a fresh look at who God is, yes. Chances are, yes.

And There Was Light (book review)

Last year I came across Jacques Lusseyran’s story by reading a collection of his essays. Before I left on my Christmas road trip last week while looking for an audio book to listen to, I was thrilled to find Lusseyran’s memoir, And There Was Light. What a story to listen to during this season of the year!

In my 2024 Library posting that you’ll find tomorrow, I’ve called this book the most thought-provoking book I read this year. Here are five reasons:

  • Lusseyran convinces you he can see light despite being blind
  • Lusseyran and his young friends lead a significant Nazi resistance in France
  • Lusseyran shows you the power of words, both spoken and written
  • Lusseyran reminds you of the strength of the human spirit whose foundation is faith in God
  • Lusseyran proves odds can be broken

There are so many quotes worth noting from this memoir. That’s one downfall to listening to it-unable to highlight them. However, I’d encourage you to listen to it rather than read it. Andre Gregory’s narration draws you into the world of a blind child who grows into a hero, a choice he made so all would be drawn to the light.

If you are a lover of history, check out this book.

If you enjoy World War II stories, check out this book.

If you are clueless like I was about the French resistance, check out this book.

If you wish to better understand the world of the blind, check out this book.

If you wish to shine light into the dark, check out this book.

Eternal Fences

I’ve had fences on my mind. Apparently, they have permanent residence and need to be managed.

This is my way of understanding a season I’ve recently emerged from, a season I always seem to have a foot in. I call it the what’s next season.  That question keeps a firm grip on my brain, if I let it. And that’s where the fences come in.

Sometimes I recognize it; sometimes I don’t. The temptation to look over the fence. The temptation isn’t necessarily about looking for greener grass. It’s more like, “What’s over there? If it looks good, should I find a way over there? Should I be looking for a gate? Looking at the field I’m in, there’s probably a better one on the other side of part of this fence, right? I just got to keep looking. Seek and find.”

While chewing on these questions this week during a prayer moment, a connection was made that made me say, “Well that’s interesting.” The connection was to a verse from Ecclesiastes, a book containing a look at forever fences. Here’s that verse:

He has made everything appropriate in its time. He has also set eternity in their heart, without the possibility that mankind will find out the work which God has done from the beginning even to the end. -Ecclesiastes 3:11 NASB

Oddly, my mind relaxed. The connection: Because eternity is placed in my heart, I am always going to be tempted to look over the fence. And I’m not alone in that. Every human asks, “What’s next? Is this it? There’s got to be more, right?” We ask it in different ways, seek the answers from different sources, but we ask the same questions.

The lessons that seem to be on repeat during a what’s next season are 1) Embrace Now and 2) Balance Anticipation. As I thought about these lessons, another uplifting passage came to mind. It’s from an equally encouraging chapter, this time from the New Testament. Hebrews 11 contains a roster of fellow fence gawkers who are described as sharing another top of mind focus. Check out verses 13-16:

13 All these people were still living by faith when they died. They didn’t receive the things God had promised. They only saw them and welcomed them from a long way off. They openly said that they were outsiders and strangers on earth. 14 People who say things like that show that they are looking for a country of their own. 15 What if they had been thinking of the country they had left? Then they could have returned to it. 16 Instead, they longed for a better country. They wanted a heavenly one. So God is pleased when they call him their God. In fact, he has prepared a city for them.

You see why fences have been on mind? It’s actually good stuff. At the end of it, I find myself in excellent company, both in the past and the present. I say the present because these thoughts led me to three songs that I gravitate toward when eternity is on my mind.

So at the close of this month, this week, this Thanksgiving weekend, I encourage you to take 11 minutes, stare at the eternal fence, and listen to these fellow “longers for a better country.”

Photo by Marie Martin on Unsplash

As You Live and Move and Breathe

Came across a song new to me today that voiced a prayer of personal need. Before sharing it, do you know or remember this one?

Matt Maher gave us this song 11 years ago, a prayer declaring an awareness and desperation regarding needing God. There are moments in life where this prayer song matches our spirit. In those moments, I believe God is like a father, thankful his child trusts their need with him.

The song I found today is also a prayer song about need, but the declaration isn’t a cry for help. Instead, the song is a declaration of belief in God’s ability to meet needs and, therefore, a desire to stay close to him. Why? Because he knows what we need. That “because” leaves the lyricist to declare something about himself. He wants everything he does and says to lead him back to the one who knows what he needs.

Two songs about human need. Two songs voicing a prayer of faith. Wherever your faith is today regarding your needs, chances are one of these songs captures it.

As you live and move and breathe, sing along. He’s listening.

Heartbroken…There…I Said It

“How are you doing?”

It’s an ordinary, everyday question. But some people have a knack for asking it more like, “No, really. How are you doing?”

I’ve got more than my share of them. Over the last four days, three of them pried. I skirted one, dumped on the other, and indulged the last one.

It wasn’t until listening to the end of the podcast episode I posted about yesterday that the one word to describe how I’m doing surfaced. And it’s one I have never used for myself. I’ve felt and experienced it, just never declared it to be a current condition.

Heartbroken.

Kate: If we think of ourselves as a very sad but also kind of broken in certain parts person, it can feel like, well, that’s not the person who is going to be able to help very much, do very much. We’re already consumed by all the things that have made our lives difficult or tragic in the first place. We are already too aware of the fact that we are living inside of like crosscurrents of things we can’t fix. Kids with intractable problems. Parents with intractable problems. Jobs with intractable problems. But you and I both agree that there’s something weird that happens to the broken hearted, is that there’s like, a kind of an inside-out-ness that happens that can make us maybe exactly the right people to live in unfinished times.

Parker: I think so. This level of engagement, either in politics or in personal and communal life seems to me to require the kind of opening that can comes through broken heartedness. Absolutely. So just as you said, I’ve thought a lot about the fact that there are two ways for the heart to break. It can shatter into shards and just lie useless on the floor, never to be put back together again. Or you can exercise your heart on a daily basis by taking in the little losses, the little deaths, you know, those things that are feel hard to absorb, the news that’s hard to absorb, take it and let it exercise that muscle the way a runner exercises muscles so they won’t snap under stress, and the heart has a chance then to become so supple that it will break open into largeness rather than apart in into shards. And, you know, the most trustworthy people in my life are people who have known broken heartedness, and those who have known it in depths. Those are the people I can go to and say, and tell it the way it is for me. And then, and in the process, experience healing. They don’t have answers for me anymore than I have answers for them. But we can have a conversation rooted in broken heartedness and honesty about that experience that goes somewhere humanly, right?

In my inside-out-ness, I have to say I’ve probably been heartbroken for years without acknowledging it. The recent storms and reactions to the election have brought me to this awareness that I’m oddly thankful for.

I ask myself what’s this about. I didn’t personally experience loss from any of the three hurricanes. Nor did I personally lose a bid for public office. What’s there to be brokenhearted about?

The answer may seem obvious to you, but it’s not always been obvious to me. My Enneagram 1, Myers Briggs ISTJ self tends to be pretty cut and dry. But not recently. At least not these last three months.

I’m leaning into the belief that loving your neighbor as yourself means seeing ourselves as one. When the community hurts, you hurt. When the community loses, you lose. When any portion of the country cries and mourns, you cry and mourn.

The years of brokenheartedness I’m most aware of has to do with my personal church history. To see the church in the middle of the polarization of the country these last five years continues to cut deep. This last week, my heart jolted, even collapsed, as one side hurries to make false biblical comparisons while the other huddles in fear and shock. It’s war. And it’s heartbreaking.

On my run this morning I asked myself two questions: 1) How long do I allow myself to be heartbroken over these two things that personally don’t impact me? 2) What am I doing about this status?

I answered the first one with more questions:

  • Is there a formula? Like, three times the amount of time it takes for all the debris to disappear.
  • Isn’t there more to recovery than just removing and repairing the visible damage?
  • Feels like there’s grief everywhere, right? How long does that take?
  • God’s probably been heartbroken over the Church for longer than I’ve been alive. Where does that leave me?
  • Feels like heartbreak is part of life, and I’m just now owning it. Or at least on behalf of my neighbor. I’ve missed it for a long time, right?

As for question two, my best answer for my spirit was this: Don’t Rush.

  • Don’t Rush to Retort
  • Don’t Rush to Judge
  • Don’t Rush to Wholeness
  • Don’t Rush to Solutions
  • Don’t Rush to Fix
  • Don’t Rush to Start the Day
  • Don’t Rush to Comfort

To the one I skirted, I’m heartbroken. There. I said it.

Cover photo credit: https://www.instagram.com/theoriginalrtpix?igsh=MTkydWQ1MG9qMnJiaA==

Six Steps to Writing Your Laments

I’m guessing if the majority of us were asked if we had anything to lament over we’d have more than one answer.

  • A relationship
  • Religion
  • Politics
  • Finances
  • Physical aches

I’m guessing if the majority of us were asked if we had a proper approach to lamenting we’d struggle to lay it out. Thankfully, Krispin Mayfield has offered some help.

In his book Attached to God, he gives six steps to writing a lament. Why? When we express our most difficult emotions to God, we draw closer to him. Intimacy with God is found in a balance of praise and lament.

In the tradition of the Psalms, here are Mayfield’s six steps:

  1. Tell God something you wish were different in your own life or the world, such as a health condition, difficult relationship, life stress, poverty, or racism.
  2. Tell God what you feel when you think about this issue; additionally, write down any emotions you might feel considering God’s inaction regarding this issue.
  3. Tell about a time in your own life or someone else’s where God intervened.
  4. Ask God to step in and address this suffering.
  5. Tell God you’re confident that your prayer is heard.
  6. Praise or recognize one of God’s attributes or characteristics, based on your past or present experience.

Sharing some of your uncomfortable emotions with God might feel strange. But you can unlock the basement when you’re assured that both God and your faith tradition can hold the parts of your experience. When you are sad, scared, or angry, your emotions aren’t signs of a lack of faith, but rather evidence that you are exactly where you need to be-at home with a God who is waiting to hear your emotions and give you the reassurance you need. (chapter 8, “From Shutdown to Engaged”)

Photo by Joshua Earle on Unsplash