Walking with Mom this morning, just after topping Escalante (a street with a hill that is certainly worthy of the name), she was reciting Romans 8...one part particularly stood out to me: "...you have received the spirit of adoption. When we cry, 'Abba, Father,' it is that very Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God..."
I've been told that this word "Abba" is the equivalent to our "Papa"- also the name used for God the Father in William Young's The Shack. During a short exercise in centering prayer with the group in Pecos, I rested in this name of God. Papa. There's something very intimate, very...warm in the name. But it somehow transcends familiarity and goes deeper than feeling closer to Him.
Calling God "Abba, Father" is different from giving God a familiar name. Calling God "Abba" is entering into the same intimate, fearless, trusting, and empowering relationship with God that Jesus had. That relationship is called Spirit, and that Spirit is given to us by Jesus and enables us to cry out with him, "Abba, Father."
Calling God "Abba, Father" (see Roman 8:15; Galatians 4:6) is a cry of the heart, a prayer welling up from our innermost beings. It has nothing do with naming God but everything to do with claiming God as the source of who we are. This claim does not come from any sudden insight or acquired conviction; it is the claim that the Spirit of Jesus makes in communion with our spirits. It is the claim of love.
Calling God "Abba, Father" (see Roman 8:15; Galatians 4:6) is a cry of the heart, a prayer welling up from our innermost beings. It has nothing do with naming God but everything to do with claiming God as the source of who we are. This claim does not come from any sudden insight or acquired conviction; it is the claim that the Spirit of Jesus makes in communion with our spirits. It is the claim of love.
(Henry Nouwen Society, Daily Meditation for June 11, 2008)
In Reaching Out, Nouwen explores the differences between loneliness and solitude. Solitude lays claim to this kind of intimacy and love for which there are no words. My time at the monastery last week...was a time of learning deeper communion with my Papa. Separated from all familiarity (faith tradition, place, schedule, diet, people), what is left to cling to? I so often wished for things to be more like home. Coming back to "normal" life after beginning to love the rhythm and precious silence, joy, and love in the monastery setting...the tendency is to sludge through "normal" life wishing things could only be more like they are in Pecos. I once read that if only is the quickest, most definite path to despair. There must be, underneath life circumstances and all things external, a strong and continuous thread providing the stability we long for.
In Reaching Out, Nouwen explores the differences between loneliness and solitude. Solitude lays claim to this kind of intimacy and love for which there are no words. My time at the monastery last week...was a time of learning deeper communion with my Papa. Separated from all familiarity (faith tradition, place, schedule, diet, people), what is left to cling to? I so often wished for things to be more like home. Coming back to "normal" life after beginning to love the rhythm and precious silence, joy, and love in the monastery setting...the tendency is to sludge through "normal" life wishing things could only be more like they are in Pecos. I once read that if only is the quickest, most definite path to despair. There must be, underneath life circumstances and all things external, a strong and continuous thread providing the stability we long for.
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