Category: Spirituality

Beauty and Awe

This month of December, my daughter and I, along with her dog, Fiona, drove from Chicago to Anchorage, Alaska, where Elizabeth has been called to pastor a church. At Dawson Creek, in the upper part of British Columbia, we were at mile zero of the Alaskan highway—ahead of us, 1580 miles of mostly snow-packed roads and mountainous terrain of astonishing beauty. We started our days, of increasingly shorter daylight, before sunrise and ended them after sunset. We experienced the beauty of snowy mountains, some of which reached 19,000 feet, in various kinds of light, blue sky, and clouds. We lived in awe of the beauty that surrounded and enveloped us.

God has been referred to as Being itself, Life itself, Love itself. Jonathan Edwards, the eighteenth century American pastor and theologian in a time of great awakening, referred to God as Beauty itself. We meet God in the beauty around us and within us, large and small, magnificent and lowly.

Beauty meets us in the grandeur of mountains and the delicacy of a beetle. I meet beauty in my backyard. I encounter it in the chickadee that grabs a sunflower seed at my bird feeder and, unlike the sparrows, does not linger, but flies away to a solitary place to enjoy it. I meet beauty in the sunflowers that the birds plant in my garden and the butterflies that visit them.

Beauty meets us in the human body and the human mind, in form and thought, in sound, sense, and creativity; art, music, and dance. I am taken in by the beauty of Chicago’s cityscape lit up at night and viewed across the water of Lake Michigan, and by the canyons and cliffs of its skyscrapers during the day—and the peregrine falcons that nest there. The city itself is an expression of nature, of human nature and therefore of the divine nature and of Beauty itself. The sin and evil that reside in the city (and in its making) and in the world cannot overcome the beauty. It shines in the darkness.

And God is in it. Beauty itself draws us. The awe we experience is our drawing near. We are invited to come nearer, to enter in and to receive and be changed.

Filed under: Beauty, Humanity, SpiritualityTagged with: , ,

Where Security Resides

At some point in my early twenties, in college, it occurred to me that I was not simply seeking knowledge for the sake of knowledge and truth. I had told myself that that was what I was doing; it was a conscious desire. But I came to admit that there was more going on than simply a search for truth. There was a desire to secure my life with knowledge. There was the feeling that if I just knew enough, I would feel more secure in the world and perhaps feel that things were a little more under my control. I became increasingly aware of this attempt to secure my life, along with the realization that it was not working.

When it came to my relationship with God, in whom there is true security, I found that I was often attempting to think my way to God, a decidedly futile project. I despaired of it and continued a journey of surrendering my life to God.

I am seventy now and am mindful that my efforts to secure myself have never gone away, even as I have found security in God who, in the words of Karl Rahner, is Incomprehensible Mystery. My security is in the Incomprehensible! It is in the Mystery! Since my attempts at securing myself have not disappeared, I have been on a journey of relinquishing my life. My security is found in losing my life, my insecurity in trying to secure my life. (“For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.” – Jesus)

The struggle remains. And God’s grace remains. God knows where I am in the midst of this struggle, for which I am grateful; I am thankful that God knows me and knows where I am. And God is my deliverer. The journey I am on is a journey of grace.

I share this experience, because I realize I am not alone in this, and I understand the danger of seeking knowledge and information as a way to secure ourselves. This danger is certainly found in the ways that technology can give the illusion of power and security. And the scientific method, while achieving much growth in empirical knowledge (and at the same time multiplying the questions and keeping us immersed in mystery), can, nevertheless, for some, be a means of “pinning things down” in order to gain a sense of security. When technology and science become a way of securing ourselves, our lives narrow to a very mean (as in “small”) self. On the other hand, when science is pursued for the sake of knowledge rather than security, as with all forms of knowing, it opens us up to wonder and mystery—and therefore to spirit. (Read the Journey of the Universe, by Brian Thomas Swimme and Mary Evelyn Tucker.)

But an attempt to secure ourselves by our knowledge may reach its most dangerous level in theology. The temptation to have our thoughts about God secure us is great. For many, the fall into this temptation is most obvious in fundamentalist thinking, where, for example, Bible quotes are provided as pat answers to all manner of life’s problems. However, the danger exists for any theological project. We are tempted to think our way to God, rather than reflect from our lived experience of God. The danger is that our theology becomes merely another ideology that keeps hidden the primary idols (false centers) that drive our lives and undermine our relationships. Theology replaces experience rather than reflecting it. Essentially, this is the cause of so many forms of Christianity revealing little or nothing of Christ.

Jesus speaks to this when he prays, “I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and the intelligent and have revealed them to infants.” And when he says, “Let the little children come to me…for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs.” And “Unless you change and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”

Therefore: Leave aside all your thoughts, your intelligent and well-formulated answers. Become like an infant, not knowing, open to receive. Be silent. Be still. “Be still and know.” (Psalm 46) Wait. “Be still before the Lord, and wait patiently for him.” (Psalm 37) Release your thoughts and yield to Incomprehensible Mystery. Be open to the One you can never wrap your thoughts around. You have put your faith in your thoughts; now trust the Mystery. The One you cannot comprehend will bear you up and secure you. In silence and trust, the eyes of your heart will be opened, so that you become aware of both your great need for God and God’s gracious acceptance. In that awareness, you may find that you are discerning your next steps. Your next steps, as God gives them, are prior to and greater than your reflections. Knowing and doing God’s will are preeminent over any theology.

As a response to God, the steps you take grow your true self. This experience gives rise to reflections so that you are not merely repeating what you heard from others or read in the Bible, but rather you are witnessing from your own lived reality.

Furthermore, you find that you are not bound to any one formulation of reality, but you are free to find new ways to express your experience as you change and grow. You increasingly become open to the many ways God comes to us and the many ways others have expressed this reality. You discover that, in the words of C.S. Lewis, “God is the great iconoclast.”(A Grief Observed) God keeps breaking up our images of God (for new images) lest we make any one image that in which we place our trust, our security being in God alone.

Filed under: Faith, Grace, Prayer, SpiritualityTagged with: , , , , ,

The Coming Collapse

Hanns Lilje, a Lutheran pastor in Nazi Germany, in his book, The Valley of the Shadow (1950), shares his experience with arrest, interrogation and a trial that ended with his being sentenced to death. (Before the sentence could be carried out, however, communication broke down and the Allies gained control of Germany.) One of his observations in this book was that the Nazi regime was collapsing from within. He sees the collapse in the faces, features, and actions of guards, interrogators, and judge.

He views young men whose lives were “empty,” who “were forced to be brutal” which “caused them to crumble inwardly.” He describes the judge’s face, at his trial, in this way: It “had originally been a good one, almost noble, with clear-cut and intellectual features, but it had decayed (as it were) from within, and all his features bore signs of a terrible inner decline.”

Of tyrants, like Hitler, Lilje writes: “God allows the tyrant to follow his way blindly, to the end, until nothing remains.” Evil sown reaps the decline and fall of the evil-doer.

We are reminded of Paul’s words: “Do not be deceived; God is not mocked, for you reap whatever you sow.” (Galatians 6:7)

Evil sown carries its own demise within it. Sin is like a parasite. It eats away at truth, compassion, justice, mercy, and faithfulness until it has nothing left to feed upon. St. Augustine says, “Sin is nothing and human beings become nothing when they sin.” Sin always robs us of reality. The “nothing” that is sin produces no love; it undoes love. It shows no compassion, no mercy. Where justice is required, it is unjust. And it is untruthful: It takes away from and distorts the truth.

We experience this undoing personally, and we see it taking place all around us. None of us are without sin, and we all experience the breakdown sin causes in our lives and relationships, whether from our own sins or the sins of others against us. We see this corruption on a social and global scale. We see the loss of compassion daily in the mistreatment of human beings at our border, in our warring ways, in the gangsterism on our streets and in corporate boardrooms, in sexual assault and harassment, and in all forms of inhumanity towards others: the injustices in our criminal justice system, discrimination in housing, health care and educational resources, and in the neglect and hurt of the most vulnerable among us.

We see the disintegration of truth and compassion among those who are placed in positions of leadership. We currently have a man in the office of the presidency who has lied or made misstatements, according to fact-checking, more than 11,000 times in his presidency. Many have become numb to this situation. We have leaders who disparage and demean various ethnic groups and religions among us and leaders who show little regard for future generations as they refuse to address the issues of climate change, seeing such actions as disadvantages to their wealth and power.

But what we are seeing is not only the great hurt being perpetrated on others but the steady breakdown and destruction of the perpetrators themselves. They are unwittingly sowing the seeds of their own demise. Their corruption is eating away at branch and root. It is not surprising that our present government has had a steady flow of those who have had to leave their positions.

The New Testament book of James says, “Not many of you should become teachers…for you know that we who teach will be judged with greater strictness.” Not many should become leaders. Judgment awaits. What has been sown will be reaped. If we have sown to destruction (the destruction of compassion and justice and mercy), we will reap destruction. We will reap our own inhumanity with its consequences in the hollowing out of our lives and our eventual collapse. Yes, we will leave carnage in our wake, but we will also lose our own souls.

We see this debilitation in the leadership of our government. It is a sickness unto death. That does not mean that we can simply sit, watch and wait for it all to fall apart and then attempt to pick up the pieces. That would mean more affliction on the most vulnerable, and it would mean our own disintegration. People of faith know that they are called to be witnesses. We are to witness from the grace, compassion, and justice we have experienced. As we learn to live from the Source of love, we know that we are under a call to speak to the corruption by witnessing to God’s compassion and justice. We are to join with others to call for compassion, justice, and mercy and do so by addressing the specific injustices of our time, working to make right what is wrong. We are to do justice. We are to be channels of the kind of love that effects actual change.

To those who continue down the road of destruction, who have committed themselves to that road, we will be viewed as subversives. To those who hold onto power for themselves (and “their people”) over against others, we will be called radicals. But then love, care for the truth, and doing justice are radical; they go to the root (radix) of being the humans God calls us to be.

Filed under: Evil, Humanity, Justice, Society, Spirituality, WitnessTagged with: , , ,

Christmas Reflections on Incarnation

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being.

And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth. (John 1:1-3,14)

Christmas is not the celebration of baby Jesus but of the entirety of Jesus’ life and the whole of humanity. It is the celebration of incarnation, the “Word become flesh.” We are giving thanks that we become truly human by becoming divine. The Word of God, God’s self-expression, participates in our humanity. Or to say it another way, humanity participates in the divine nature through Christ who is the Participant of the divine nature. (2 Peter 1:4)

In the early centuries of the church, especially with eastern Christianity, the word “divinization” was used as a way to express the meaning of incarnation. God, who created all things through the Word or Image of God—stamping all of creation with divine reality, raises up God’s creation into union with God. God “divinizes” God’s creation. We humans are that aspect of an evolving universe that has become self-conscious and that experiences itself as open to God. We are spirit as well as matter.

What this means is that God does not come to us as an afterthought or an add-on to creation and to our humanity, but inseparable from who we are, when we are truly ourselves. We cannot be truly human without, at the same time, being divine—that is, “children of God.” We were created for union with God.

When we are alienated from God (what Christians mean by “sin”), we experience the loss of our humanity. What we have lost is our divine center. We have tried to make ourselves the center of our own universe, no longer at home with God or the universe. We construct a false self and produce broken relationships and broken societies and a broken enviornment.

We have ways of expressing this loss of humanity. We speak of our inhumanity. We speak in negative terms. We are unloving, unwilling, untruthful, ungrateful, unfaithful, impatient, unkind, unspiritual, in a state of disunity, discord, disorientation, etc. What we have lost is the fruit of the Spirit of God, “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.” (Galatians 5:22-23) When we are godless, we are inhuman.

When Jesus proclaims God’s reign and calls us to repent, he is telling us to turn back to God as the center and source of our lives. He is expressing the same call as the prophets before him: “Return to your God, hold fast to love and justice, and wait continually for your God.” (Hosea 12:6)

Jesus declares that God’s reign is near. The source and center of our lives, the fountain of life and our true humanity, is not far away. We can turn again to the divine center. “In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and in trust shall be your strength.” (Isaiah 30:15) Therefore James tells us to “draw near to God, and he will draw near to you.” (James 4:8) Right now, in this moment, we can again draw near to God, knowing that God is drawing us near.

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Walking by Faith Through the Storm

A great windstorm arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that the boat was already being swamped. But [Jesus] was in the stern, asleep on the cushion; and they woke him up and said to him, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” He woke up and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Peace! Be still!” Then the wind ceased, and there was a dead calm. He said to them, “Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?” (Mark 4:37-40)

Jesus was in the stern, asleep on a cushion. I count this as the first miracle in the story. The second is the calming of the storm.

We relate to this story because we all experience storms. They take many forms: natural catastrophes, breakdowns of one kind or another, the inhumanity of human beings toward each other (our sin that dehumanizes us and the sins of others that hurt us). Whether our storms come from within or without, they create disturbance and fear and test our faith in God. They occasion the question, “Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?”

Fear tempts us to trust in ourselves rather than God. Anxiety creates an urgency to take things into our own hands as if there is no time to wait on God and discern next steps. Faith, on the other hand, will have us at peace in the midst of the storm—even in the midst of a societal breakdown. It will, therefore, free us to act in life-giving ways.

Faith in God enabled Jesus to sleep as the storm raged, and also enabled him to calm the storm. It is by faith that we realize God’s presence and power. I have the impression that when Jesus, after calming the storm, said to his disciples, “Have you still no faith?” he was implying that if they had believed, they would have calmed the storm themselves rather than wake him up. After all, he said, elsewhere, that if they had faith the size of a mustard seed, they could move mountains.

Jesus calls us to desire after God and to draw near to God that we might increasingly live from God. We are encouraged that a very little faith—a mustard seed size—will take us a long way in facing and engaging the disorder of our time. By faith, we find that we can walk through storms, and receive, learn and grow. The storms will come, and some will be long-lasting, but, by resting in God, we will rest in the storm. And, at times, be given the power to calm the storm.

Filed under: Faith, Fear, Peace, SpiritualityTagged with: , ,