Faith

In an ongoing conversation with friends, I've been thinking some about faith. What is faith?
Hebrews 11:1 is typically the verse cited when a definition is needed. So I looked it up in several versions...
When we read words like substance, evidence, assurance, conviction, and proof, do we assume that faith = certainty, absence of doubt? If this is faith, then either we must admit we are a hopeless cause or we must deny simple facts of reality.
What if faith is more than this? We may say it is, but do our lives reflact that reality?

"The fundamental fact of existence is that this trust in God, this faith, is the firm foundation under everything that makes life worth living. It's our handle on what we can't see."

Hebrews 11:1, the Message

What if faith is trust? There will probably still be darkness, and perhaps nothing - not even the smallest light - to lead us on. But it does not shake our confidence that the Lord is my shepherd. In Waking, Matthew Sanford writes, "Stop moving...let the eyes adust...allow for stillness...then see what's possible."

Believing Abba is big enough to work within our current limitations...

First "official" day of class at SAU...

John O'Donohue's blessing "For a New Beginning" - A near-perfect expression of my heart...and a prayer for all beginning this journey together:


In out-of-the-way places of the heart,
Where your thoughts never think to wander,
This beginning has been quietly forming,
Waiting until you were ready to emerge.

For a long time it has watched your desire,
Feeling the emptiness growing inside you,
Noticing how you willed yourself on,
Still unable to leave what you had outgrown.

It watched you play with the seduction of safety
And the gray promises that sameness whispered,
Heard the waves of turmoil rise and relent,
Wondered would you always live like this.

Then the delight, when your courage kindled,
And out you stepped onto new ground,
Your eyes young again with energy and dream,
A path of plenitude opening before you.

Though your destination is not yet clear
You can trust the promise of this opening;
Unfurl yourself into the grace of beginning
That is at one with your life's desire.

Awaken your spirit to adventure;
Hold nothing back, learn to find ease in risk;
Soon you will be home in a new rhythm,
For your soul senses the world that awaits you.

Out of Solitude - Part 3

Henri Nouwen's three meditations on the Christian life presented in this little book seem so simple - and so deep. The book is divided into three sections: Out of Solitude, With Care, and In Expectation. Here are my thoughts on the third part:

John 16:16-22
True and deep caring for others can be painful. It does not make for an easy life. We do not have within ourselves adequate resources to sustain such a life over the long haul. As we immerse ourselves in the pain and suffering of others, we must cling to hope – confident expectation that redemption will come.
“Without expectation, care easily degenerates into a morbid preoccupation with pain and gives more occasion for common complaints than for the formation of community (p. 53).”

Expectation as Patience
“…What seems a hindrance becomes a way; what seems an obstacle becomes a door; what seems a misfit becomes a cornerstone (p. 55)… That is the great conversion in our life: to recognize and believe that the many unexpected events are not just disturbing interruptions of our projects, but the way in which God moulds our hearts and prepares us for his return (p. 56).”
Expectation – hope – gives strength to climb the mountains of suffering we embark on when we commit to care. The caring is, then, a passage of sorts. A transition. A movement from one way of life to another; one realm to another. A passage requires patience and perseverance. So many stories tell us how the characters are transformed – usually through difficulty of some kind – into a whole new way of being. Images come to mind of the difficult journey for Frodo and Sam as they travel through Mordor to take the ring to Mount Doom. They persevere, they keep going, and they have hope.
Patience is necessary even when circumstances are not overtly painful. When things don’t turn out as we expected, or when our lives seem utterly boring and off-track – these are also times that we must look up in hope and press on with patience.
But what comes first? There is no patience without hope, but can there truly be hope without patience? “…patience is the mother of expectation (p. 59).”

Expectation as Joy
“A man or woman without hope in the future cannot live creatively in the present (p. 59).”
By patience and perseverance we know that our hopes will come to pass. This sets joy in our hearts! When we have something to look forward to, the dull dreariness of today fades – things look brighter. Nouwen compares it to receiving a letter from a loved one, with news that we will see each other soon. There is expectation and joy (probably accompanied by a sudden awareness of the impending housecleaning tasks). Without the joy of our hopes, our patience will be very short-lived.
“…Our intimate relationship with God can become deeper and more mature while we wait patiently in expectation for his return (p. 61).”

Out of Solitude - Part 2

Henri Nouwen's three meditations on the Christian life presented in this little book seem so simple - and so deep. The book is divided into three sections: Out of Solitude, With Care, and In Expectation. Here are my thoughts on the second part:

Mark 6:32-44
The knee-jerk response of seeing need, pain, suffering is to seek change – a cure. “What we do not see and do not want to see is care: the participation in the pain, the solidarity in suffering, the sharing in the experience of brokenness (p. 35).
Being with the people in their pain. This idea of care is evident in the life and work of Mother Teresa, whose homes for the dying created a place for the people of Calcutta to face death held by loving, caring hands. There is a time for action, for demanding change, for seeking a cure. “…Cure without care is as dehumanizing as a gift given with a cold heart (p. 36).” Care must be the foundation for all action taken to cure.

Care
In Beyond Borders, Dr. Callahan (played by Clive Owen) has been living in Ethiopia conducting relief efforts during the famine in the 1980s. Sarah Beauford (Angelina Jolie) has been introduced to the needs and inspired to take action for change. Dr. Callhan helps the naïve but well-meaning woman to see things differently:
“What’s the first thing you do when you get a cold?”
“Uh... chicken soup, aspirin, scotch...”
“You never just have the cold?”

“I don't know what…”

“Taken nothing. Just have the cold?”

“No.”
“No, and that's us, right? We drown it. Kill it. Numb it, anything not to feel. You know, when I was a doctor in London, no one ever said 'medahani'. They don't thank you like they thank you here. Cos here they feel everything, straight from God. There's no drugs, no painkillers. It's the weirdest, purest thing - suffering…”

Dr. Callahan’s insight came from first-hand experience in caring for the Ethiopian people. Following the word care to its roots, it means “to grieve, to experience sorrow, to cry out with”(Nouwen, p. 37). It is to admit that we do not understand, we do not know what to say or how to fix it. Words are often unnecessary; we are simply present to the other person. Cure without care is abused power – we are only trying to manipulate and control the situation.

Community and Care
How can form caring communities? For starters, we’ve got to get over this ridiculous idea that “I’m only one person…I can’t make any significant difference.” If every person believed this, our world would be devoid of both care and cure. We do not need special training to care for those placed in our path. We must simply do it. But we don’t. Why?
Henri Nouwen asks this question in such a way that the answer begins to emerge:
“Why is it we keep that great gift of care so deeply hidden? Why is it that we keep giving dimes without daring to look into the face of the beggar? Why is it that we do not join the lonely eater in the dining hall but look for those we know so well? Why is it that we so seldom knock on a door or grab a phone, just to say hello, just to show that we have been thinking about each other? Why are smiles still hard to get and words of comfort so difficult to come by? Why is it so hard to express thanks to a teacher, admiration to a student, and appreciation to the men and women who cook, clean, and garden? Why do we keep bypassing each other always on the way to something or someone more important (p. 43)?”
Are we afraid of how we will appear to others? Are our schedules so fully booked that we simply have no time for our fellow human beings? Do we have our own ideas of what things and people should be?
Care requires “the honest recognition and confession of our human sameness (p. 45).” This is the basis of true community. As true community is conceived and nurtured, these communities will naturally be caring to those “outside” of the community.

Out of Solitude - Part 1

Henri Nouwen's three meditations on the Christian life presented in this little book seem so simple - and so deep. The book is divided into three sections: Out of Solitude, With Care, and In Expectation. Here are my thoughts on the first part:

Mark 1:32-39
Action is born out of solitude. Time alone gives rise to effective ministry. “Surrounded by hours of moving, we find a moment of quiet stillness (Nouwen, p. 17).” We are to cultivate a lonely place within, where only our Father has access – where he rests in the midst of every storm.

Our Life in Action
“…although the desire to be useful can be a sign of mental and spiritual health in out goal-oriented society, it can also become a source of a paralyzing lack of self-esteem (pp. 21-22).”
It is all too easy to define our worth (or worthlessness) according to the success (or failure) of our actions – as perceived by ourselves and others through the lens of the norm. We emphasize success, yet we live our lives in constant fear that the real us will be discovered – that others will see us for what we really are: “not as smart, as good, or as lovable as the world was made to believe (p. 23).” We give ourselves over to – and are enslaved by – the illusions we have constructed around ourselves. Adaptation is mistaken for intention, seduction for reality (Young, p. 123).

Our Life in Solitude
“A life without a lonely place, that is, a life without a quiet center, easily becomes destructive (Nouwen, p. 25).”
Solitude is defined as the state of being or living alone; remoteness from habitations; a lonely unfrequented place; absence of human activity (Dictionary.com). In such a place, we can learn to rest free from the compulsion to define ourselves by what we can grab, conquer, claim. We can become open and receptive, defining our lives in gratitude by what is given to us. This frees us to give and share, rather than take and defend. It loosens our grip on the world and the world’s grip on us. We learn to see worth as distinctly other than usefulness. Results and success loose their power over us.
By nature of the fact that we are born into this world and are continuously surrounded and fed by it, we love our world. Solitude sets a healthy distance between us and the world, allowing us to see it more objectively – revealing its false realities.

Passages

Death is a passage to new life. That sounds very beautiful, but few of us desire to make this passage. It might be helpful to realise that our final passage is preceded by many earlier passages. When we are born we make a passage from life in the womb to life in the family. When we go to school we make a passage from life in the family to life in the larger community. When we get married we make a passage from a life with many options to a life committed to one person. When we retire we make a passage from a life of clearly defined work to a life asking for new creativity and wisdom. Each of these passages is a death leading to new life. When we live these passages well, we are becoming more prepared for our final passage.
~Daily Meditation from the Henri Nouwen Society

What passage(s) am I making at this point in my life? School is the biggie for me right now...but are there less obvious passages-more easily overlooked? The gradual increase in my involvement on the job; stepping further (also very gradually) into the unfamiliar territory of adulthood; even small changes in attitude toward present circumstances and the people around me.
Am I living these passages well - with attention to the Present Moment, awareness of my utter helplessness and need of God, and great hopes for what is to come?
How will I allow these passages to shape me?
In what ways can I be with others as these changes take place?

Burning in my heart

Beyond Borders...a 2003 film starring Clive Owen and Angelina Jolie - I watched it last night. The second half seemed to be more...Hollywood-ish, but the first half, and the whole movie overall, was rather jolting. Especially the scenes of famine in Ethiopia...the faces of the people...the babies. So many dying. Raw suffering. Pure need.

Jeremiah 5:27-31...Read it this morning. What a perfect, sickening depiction of what we have become. We have our own "prophets" who "prophecy falsely," and local leaders and congregations who gobble it up as Gospel truth. You hear today's prosperity preachers talking about the good life and great wealth God's just waiting to dump on us...when we already live in such abundance....yet we have "grown fat and sleek...and do not judge with justice the cause of the orphan, to make it prosper...[or]defend the rights of the needy."

Compare this...

To this...

We pursue affluence and luxury under the guise of seeking God's blessing...and neglect the starving, oppressed lives all around us. This should put fire in our bellies...

Birthdays!

Happy birthday to Mom (Aug 13) and Sam(today)!! Two people who are very, very precious to me. John O'Donohue calls a birthday "the echoing-day of your birth"...
Today we're off to celebrate!

Christ's words to me...

(Put your name in place of mine...I'm pretty sure He'd like to say this to you as well.)


Barbara, I love you. Not "if" or "but." I love you more fully, more deeply than you will ever imagine. Being with you constantly and teaching you, helping you to be increasingly sensitive to those inner leanings - the whisperings of Holy Spirit - brings such joy to my heart. I'm not mad at you or even wishing you could be other than what you are. I only see you and love you as you are and am so excited to be with you as you grow in your likeness to our Father.
I love you, Barbara...I love you! And I soooo deeply desire your growth and transformation. This is our journey together. You're not alone. Hold my hand. Be in me. Let me wrap myself around you and be in you. Don't try to change yourself. You are precious to me, and I know you inside and out. I see the reality and fullness of what you are and I still love and hold you. So when you see something in yourself that is frightening and sinful...don't turn to resistance and rejection...but to prayer, supplication, thanksgiving, humility.
This is your life. Accept it. Receive it. And rest in me. Together we'll see your heart come to glorious union with our Father.

Afternoon thoughts....still at work.

I'm unsettled. Or maybe I'm settled....in a distracted, disjointed, not-here sort of place. I haven't kept my "God-appointments" today. Sorry, Abba. You are near me. You always stay so near, loving and guiding and healing and speaking...and I, like a teather-ball, just keep spinning and pulling and bouncing around. Stop the motion, constant action, constant thought. Just be. Breathe. What am I resisting? Staying later at work...the feeling of distraction or failure...the irritating habits of those around me. What gifts am I overlooking? A few moments alone and quiet to recollect...an easy job that provides financial resources...a clean, warm jacket to wear in a cold office...blueberry white tea...family keeping in touch with me throughout the day...so many, many gifts. Breath. Sight. Thought. How might I be abusing these gifts? By inattention... misdirection...or just plain laziness.
Here I am, Abba. Can I really just accept this moment as it is...without demanding that it be something else?
"Let your face shine on us, O Lord, and we shall be saved."

How does control hamper faith?

"Faith for Jesus is the opposite of anxiety. If you are anxious, if you are trying to control everything, if you are worried about many things, you don't have faith, according to Jesus. You do not trust that God is good and on your side. You're trying to do it all yourself, lift yourself up by your own bootstraps.

The giveaway is control. That's a good litmus test of the quality of your faith. People of faith don't have to control everything, nor do they have to change people."

Today's Daily Meditation from Richard Rohr.

Holding in tension...

Ronald Rolheiser, in The Holy Longing, talks about biblical pondering. It's not, he says, the same as study or sitting down to theologizer about a person or situation. It is to hold in tension. To rest in pain, knowing that the Lord is my Shepherd regardless. It is to resist the temptation to seek a premature solution to that tension. It is to allow patience to have its perfect work...in physical pain, broken relationships, unpleasent circumstances, singleness, etc. It is to rest in the assurance of his Presence - which keeps me from fear....which, in turn, keeps me from anger depression, addiction.
Now...keeping that in mind, as I've been reading Matthew Sanford's memoir and tapping into other resources for yoga and similar practices, I keep hearing talk of "putting boudaries on your pain." Putting boundaries on my pain?? What does this mean?

As Mom and I walk up Escalante or La Canada (two streets with painfully steep hills that we alternately inflict on ourselves), the burning in my legs travels up my back and into my back, neck, and arms. If I were to create a physical picture of this pain, this tension, it would be radiating outward from my body. My mind becomes consumed with the desire to reach the tops of the hill - or to stop and turn around! To escape the discomfort. It is difficult to view the Lord as my Shepherd and the world around me as ultimately safe...because I am projecting my pain into the world around me. The air around my head smolders with it.
If, on the other hand, I put boudaries on my pain....it is contained. I view my body as a solid, non-permiable container for that pain. The pain, the tension, is contained rather than being allowed to seep into my environment. It becomes easier to know that he is my Shepherd and that I am ultimately safe. And if I am ultimately safe, there is no need to act out my fear (striking out in anger, depression, addiction). I live in that tension. I hold it. I refuse to seek premature escape or relief. So it comes, full circle, back to Rolheiser.
This is true not only of physical pain, but of psychological, relational, circumstantial pain as well. Any kind of element that is contrary to what we assume to be good, right, or ideal.

Now...also think about a child, afraid or in some degree of pain, going to her Daddy to be held. The child is seeking to have boudaries to her pain. Her Daddy is there, arms around her. The pain is contained and Daddy loves her...the world is ultimately safe. So God is/does for us.

Just...wow.

Spent two hours at a concert tonight. Ruidoso's Chamber Music Festival. I was given a ticket for tonight's concert: Alexander Kobrin. It was amazing. Truly astounding....breathtaking. I've never really exposed myself to much in the way of classical music....I found myself swept away with the movement, the emotion evident in the composition...and hypnotized by the movement of Kobrin's hands over the instrument. No one can truly claim to be a musician unless they have mastered an intrument like that!
A tremendous amount of discipline....resulting in such....beauty.

http://www.alexkobrin.com/