the complexity of simplicity

I have been just filled with joy this morning and all last night! I could barely sleep because I wanted to just sing and dance around! Silly me!

Today’s meditation by Henri Nouwen is quite relevant to what I’ve been so grateful for lately:

Jesus' Compassion
“Jesus is called Emmanuel which means "God-with-us" (see Matthew 1: 22-23). The great paradox of Jesus' life is that he, whose words and actions are in no way influenced by human blame or praise but are completely dependent on God's will, is more "with" us than any other human being.

Jesus' compassion, his deep feeling-with us, is possible because his life is guided not by human respect but only by the love of his heavenly Father. Indeed, Jesus is free to love us because he is not dependent on our love.”

I am loved regardless…! That has made me exquisitely happy and it make me feel so free to love back, imperfectly so, but the freedom it brings it so exhilarating!

Yesterday, I had an absolutely fabulous day! I am more than ever grateful for the events that have happened in my recent past, which have drawn me ever so close to the lover of my soul, my Abba. Lately, my dreams send multiple warnings and call me to prayer for those I love. So, I've continued to add my prayers towards a spiritual battle for the character and love of Christ that is at stake of being tempted away through worldly counsel and deceptive and competitive intentions. I am grateful to know Love and I am holding strong to the love of the Father, who keeps on giving, no matter how many times I don’t measure up. That is grace! I don't just know that God extends grace, I've experienced it and it is beautiful to be its recipient!

Today’s meditation on the Rule of St. Benedict was especially meaningful to me:

Jan. 19 - May 20 - Sept. 19

Your way of acting should be different from the world's way; the love of Christ must come before all else. You are not to act in anger or nurse a grudge. Rid your heart of all deceit. Never give a hollow greeting of peace or turn away when someone needs your love. Bind yourself to no oath lest it prove false, but speak the truth with heart and tongue.

The end of Benedictine spirituality is to develop a transparent personality. Dissimulation, half answers, vindictive attitudes, a false presentation of self are all barbs in the soul of the monastic. Holiness, this ancient Rule says to a culture that has made crafty packaging high art, has something to do with being who we say we are, claiming our truths, opening our hearts, giving ourselves to the other pure and unglossed. Shakespeare's Hamlet noted once: "A man can smile and smile and be a villain." Benedict is intent on developing people who are what they seem to be.

"Do not repay one bad turn with another (1 Thes 5:15; 1 Pt 3:9)." Do not injure anyone, but bear injuries patiently. "Love your enemies (Mt 5:44; Lk 6:27)." If people curse you, do not curse them back but bless them instead. "Endure persecution for the sake of justice (Mt 5:10)."

A peacemaker's paragraph, this one confronts us with the Gospel stripped and unadorned. Nonviolence, it says, is the center of the monastic life. It doesn't talk about conflict resolution; it says, don't begin the conflict. It doesn't talk about communication barriers; it says, stay gentle even with those who are not gentle with you. It doesn't talk about winning; it talks about loving.

Most of all, perhaps, it offers us no false hope that all these attempts will really change anything. No, it says instead that we must be prepared to bear whatever blows it takes for the sake of justice, quietly, gently, even lovingly with never a blow in return.

A story from the Far East recounts that a vicious general plundered the countryside and terrorized the villagers. He was, they said, particularly cruel to the monks of the place, whom he despised.

One day, at the end of his most recent assault, he was informed by one of his officers that, fearing him, all the people had already fled the town, with the exception of one monk who had remained in his monastery going about the order of the day.

The general was infuriated at the audacity of the monk and sent the soldiers to drag him to his tent.

"Do you not know who I am?" he roared at the monk, "I am he who can run you through with a sword and never bat an eyelash."

But the monk replied quietly, "And do you not know who I am? I am he who can let you run me through with a sword and never bat an eyelash."

Nonviolence plunges the monastic into the core of Christianity and allows for no rationalizations. Monastic spirituality is Christianity to the hilt. It calls for national policies that take the poor into first account; it calls for a work life that does not bully underlings or undercut the competition; it calls for families that talk to one another tenderly; it calls for a foreign policy not based on force. Violence has simply no place in the monastic heart.

"You must not be proud, nor be given to wine (Ti 1:7; I Tm 3:3)." Refrain from too much eating or sleeping, and "from laziness (Rom 12:11)." Do not grumble or speak ill of others.

In the Tao Te Ching it reads:
Be content with what you have;
rejoice in the way things are,
When you realize there is nothing lacking
the whole world belongs to you.

Benedict reminds us, too, that physical control and spiritual perspective are linked: pride and gluttony and laziness are of a piece. We expect too much, we consume too much and we contribute too little. We give ourselves over to ourselves. We become engorged with ourselves and, as a result, there is no room left for the stripped down, stark and simple furniture of the soul.

I am daily making a recovery from fatigue. It began about mid-December and got to its high point in mid-March. Mainly, my fatigue came from lack of sleep, poor boundaries, not enough alone time and huge stresses at work in fighting some unhealthy situations which were followed by multiple visits to HR and preparing to look for another job if my efforts were unsuccessful. Ultimately I decided that I was going to have to leave my position. But, 4-5 people left the company during March and April and things are dramatically better! And, the situations I was resisting have now completely reversed!

The fatigue impaired my perception of myself and others. Now that I am daily recovering due to drastic changes in spiritual disciplines, eating, sleeping, and exercise rhythms, my eyes see the truth much more clearly of what was a previously muddled situation. Sometimes I just want to kick myself over and over. If only… Why just now do I realize…? Ergh!

The pain of the realizations hasn’t decreased, it’s still going. By the end of this desert journey I’ve undertaken, I will have spent 6 months living in a state of distress: part negative living and part positively establishing new habits and abolishing old ones. I’m overwhelmed just thinking about what I’ve already been though and it’s only May! My South Africa trip in July culminates my desert journey and I am filled with hope and trust in God about the goodness that awaits me. Until then, I am focused on fully experiencing each moment, seeing what God has to say to me.

I’m volunteering on Saturday at Chicago’s Green Festival, and am looking forward to making a batch of organic soup this weekend, along with time on Sunday spent at the monastery, and a bike ride on the trails at Morton Arboretum!

Tonight, the trails at Herrick Lake await my swift feet!

Grasping for intimacy is a concept that I’ve been pondering. It seems that when I’ve grasped for intimacy, oneness, or community, I’ve lost it. Lately, I’ve felt that my sense of needing to grasp for it has been greatly curbed, even died, in this desert journey of mine. I’ve been settling into a feeling of gratefulness when it is given to me, not taking it for granted and not knowing when those moments are expected to arrive: a phone call, an email, a visit, a text message, a card in the mail. I enjoy those surprise moments with immense pleasure and thankfulness towards God.

Intimacy with God and people is something that I want to gently receive and gently give. No one can force their way into my heart and life, much less I into theirs. Upon receipt of someone’s precious heartfelt thoughts and feelings, I look upon it as if I was handed an incredibly delicate and fragile object. The way that I receive it, hold it, and return it is a gentle dance that does not involving grasping. So often lately, I’ve tasted moments of joy or intimacy and wanted to hold on for as long as possible. Yet, God continues to ask me to let go and I’m constantly surprised by what He hands me back. The feelings, dreams, desires, and relationships that I let go are sometimes returned to me with full measure and even more hope and joy than when I first experienced them.

Today’s meditation below by Henri Nouwen on dying well makes me think about dying to my self-will. I was reading again last night from Pennington’s book on Listening with Your Heart and he wrote about three human tendencies: singularity, self-will and instability. Vows to the common life (oneness of community), obedience (submission and humility) and stability (life-long commitment) are meant to help counter these tendencies. They are upheld with humility and a heart of peace that seeks balance in all life’s moments of ordinariness and joys. This is what I seek to live out.

I pray to be comforted as I continue this solitary journey in the desert and I am grateful that nothing about me is unchangeable as long as it is surrendered to my Abba.

Praying to Die Well, reflection by Henri Nouwen

“Many people say, "I am not afraid of death, but I am afraid of dying." This is quite understandable, since dying often means illness, pain, dependency, and loneliness.

The fear of dying is nothing to be ashamed of. It is the most human of all human fears. Jesus himself entered into that fear. In his anguish "sweat fell to the ground like great drops of blood" (Luke 22:44). How must we deal with our fear of dying? Like Jesus we must pray that we may receive special strength to make the great passage to new life. Then we can trust that God will send us an angel to comfort us, as he sent an angel to Jesus.”

“The purpose of Benedictine spirituality is to gather equally committed adults for a journey through earthen darkness to the dazzling light that already flames in each of us, but in a hidden place left to each of us to find.“ Source: Daily Insights

I’ve been prayerfully meditating on several things almost daily and have already been immeasurably influenced:

Psalms
Daily Insights – a commentary on the Rule of St. Benedict
Daily Reading of the Rule of St. Benedict
Basil Pennington’s book: “Listen with your Heart”

While reading a chapter from Pennington’s book on the types of monastic people, I was immediately convicted. There is this idea of singularity, which in Benedictine spirituality, is countered by the vow to the common life. Singularity describes one’s innate desire to stand out, to not be seen as part of the masses, or at its extreme, to be great(er). Its foundation is pride and stands in complete antithesis to obedience and humility which are fundamental requirements of someone seeking God.

But, this idea of singularity is also part of what I’ve been taught since I was a child that it means to be an American. If I studied/worked/dreamed hard enough, long enough and utilized my gifts to their max, I could be “something”. I could be “somebody”, (because being a “nobody” is the quintessential terror in a crowded room full of pretty, witty and wise people.) So, long ago, I determined to be a “somebody”.

Now, I’m being convicted of such longings and God is cutting away the motivations that are not righteous. While doing well, working excellently, developing and stewarding one’s gifts are all good and worthy activities, God certainly is concerned about the heart motivations for doing even those good things.

On this 44^th day of my desert journey, confronting the vices of flesh and thought, I continue to be surprised about ways in which I’ve been blinded to the depths of my own heart. In the Psalms, it says that God reveals to us the depths of our heart and that our hearts have deceived us. Despite how often I think I’m doing things for the right reasons, or wanting to serve God or others in the right ways, I am desperately reliant on Him to reveal to me the truest contents of my heart.

Daily Meditations by Henri Nouwen
Holding the Cup

“We all must hold the cups of our lives. As we grow older and become more fully aware of the many sorrows of life - personal failures, family conflicts, disappointments in work and social life, and the many pains surrounding us on the national and international scene - everything within and around us conspires to make us ignore, avoid, suppress, or simply deny these sorrows. "Look at the sunny side of life and make the best of it," we say to ourselves and hear others say to us. But when we want to drink the cups of our lives, we need first to hold them, to fully acknowledge what we are living, trusting that by not avoiding but befriending our sorrows we will discover the true joy we are looking for right in the midst of our sorrows.”

Spiritual blindness caused by sin is a funny thing; no laughing matter to be sure. You can be quite religious and spiritual, but not know you’re blind. The light you think you see is coming from your own sense of piety, purity and righteousness, rather than a reflection of the humility of the light of God. That pretty much described me.

One of the first things I realize, when I begin again anew after a time of wandering, is how much of a wretch I (still) am. I’m suffering in this desert wasteland, although I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. There’s no one that can take away this kind of soul pain, or distract me long enough from the tears of remorse and repentance. I’m experiencing desert spirituality. Although I know this is only a season of growth and it has an end date, I know that there is no turning back – I must endure and keep walking forward to get to the other side of this dry place of scourging. It is here in the desert that I am discovering my true self and not the self that I purport to be. God can only transform my true self, not the self that I want to be or see myself becoming. The true self is grounded only in the present moment. Here and now, I am a wretch. Here and now, I need God to help me take another breath and to take one more step. At times, I’ve been weak and begged God to put me in a spiritual coma so that I could just wake up when He was done with the surgery. It’s been that painful. Every day since this desert journey began 36 days ago, I wake up with an ache and in the evening, I am praying for help in calming my soul so that I can sleep in peace. I need God every moment just to function in my normal everyday tasks. I cannot survive without God. I have tried and I have died.

It’s truly amazing about blindness, but no amount of positive awe is involved. I thought I loved well; I thought I served well; I thought I sacrificed and thought more highly of the other; I thought I submitted; I thought things were going generally well. I thought.

Ha! That’s the thing about blindness. You’re blind and don’t know what you’re not seeing until someone tells you or shows you. Those people who do show you, if done in love and gentleness of spirit, are the ones that Psalms talks about : “wounds from a friend you can trust”. I’m so grateful that I have a few of those in my life. I’m grateful for the ones that stayed around and for the ones that didn’t. I pray for reconciliation. I pray for restoration. But, I pray for God’s will. Bring it on, I say! I will endure, I will not stay this way! Nothing about me is unchangeable.

I pray…

I hope…

I believe…

I will write more on desert spirituality later, but wanted to post this dictionary.com word of the day that I feel describes what’s going on with me lately.

Disparate comes from the past participle of Latin disparare, "to separate," from dis-, "apart" + parare, "to prepare."

disparate \DIS-puh-rit; dis-PAIR-it\, adjective:

1. Fundamentally different or distinct in quality or kind.

2. Composed of or including markedly dissimilar elements.

I recognize that clinging to the self-will means that I will lose all that I cling to. Two days prior to the beginning of my desert experience (Friday night, March 29), God clearly told me to let go – I journaled about it that night. I begged Him to tell me: let go for how long? let go as in forever? let go as in mentally or emotionally? Ha! God didn’t clarify, he just expected obedience. So, two days later, instead of holding on and fighting for something, I let go and fell and fell and fell into the arms of God. Sometimes you get back what you let go, sometimes you don’t. I still don’t know what the future holds in that area, but pray that God’s will be done in my life. I want God’s desires to be my own and I am allowing my desires, my plans, my dreams, my hopes to die. I want to die so that He may live in me. I want to become less, that He may become more. And, I am dying and drowning and sputtering as I try not to inhale the salt water in this desert of mine. But, every now and then I am able to catch a few breaths as I learn to live in a way that seemed impossible to me before. I live for those moments of joy and air and light. They are few each day, and sometimes few each week, but they are beautiful. In those moments, I catch a glimpse of who God is forming me to be. I look down and catch a glimpse of my former self that has died and drowned. And, in those moments, I am bowing down in holy fear and awe of the light of God that emanates from me and that I see in the world around me. I pray for more of those moments each day. It is like being really thirsty and weary, and having someone giving you a few droppers filled with water on your tongue. It is not enough! But, it is joy in that one moment and makes me long even more.

"Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me....
I once was lost but now am found,
Was blind, but now, I see.

T'was Grace that taught...
my heart to fear.
And Grace, my fears relieved.
How precious did that Grace appear...
the hour I first believed.

Through many dangers, toils and snares...
we have already come.
T'was Grace that brought us safe thus far...
and Grace will lead us home.

The Lord has promised good to me...
His word my hope secures.
He will my shield and portion be...
as long as life endures.

When we've been here ten thousand years...
bright shining as the sun.
We've no less days to sing God's praise...
then when we've first begun.

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me....
I once was lost but now am found,
Was blind, but now, I see.”

Psalm 130
Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord,
Lord, hear my voice!
O let your ears be attentive
to the voice of my pleading.

If you, O Lord, should mark our guilt,
Lord, who would survive?
But with you is found forgiveness:
for this we revere you.

My soul is waiting for the Lord.
I count on his word.
My soul is longing for the Lord
more than those who watch for daybreak.
(Let the watchers count on daybreak
and Israel on the Lord.)

Because with the Lord there is mercy
and fullness of redemption,
Israel indeed he will redeem
from all its iniquity.

I have been thinking on the concept of how much is too much, even when it’s good. All good things, even people, in excess, can weary someone.

Today’s dictionary.com word of the day:

cloy \KLOY\, transitive verb:

1. To weary by excess, especially of sweetness, richness, pleasure, etc.

2. To become distasteful through an excess usually of something originally pleasing.

The opulence, the music, the gouty food -- all start to cloy my senses.
-- Jeffrey Tayler, "The Moscow Rave part two: I Have Payments to Make on My Mink", Atlantic, December 31, 1997

I use orange and lemon zest in the recipe and a drizzle of soured cream at the table to take away its tendency to cloy.
-- Nigel Slater, "Cream tease", The Observer, December 14, 2003

The soft Orvieto Abboccato has just enough sweetness to please but not to cloy, a friendly character that tempts one to linger over a second glass.
-- George Pandi, "Orvieto's pleasures deserve to be savored like its wine", Boston Herald, July 18, 2004

Daily Meditation by Henri Nouwen
“Friends and Their Limitations”

We need friends. Friends guide us, care for us, confront us in love, console us in times of pain. Although we speak of "making friends," friends cannot be made. Friends are free gifts from God. But God gives us the friends we need when we need them if we fully trust in God's love.

Friends cannot replace God. They have limitations and weaknesses like we have. Their love is never faultless, never complete. But in their limitations they can be signposts on our journey towards the unlimited and unconditional love of God. Let's enjoy the friends whom God has sent on our way.

I wanted to share some good news! I’ve developed some new habits and am ever so excited to see what will come of them. I started 31 days ago and am well into the regularity of this new daily lifestyle rhythm. I have been praying daily on the Psalms as they are prayed in monasteries. I am reflecting on the writings of Henri Nouwen, and studying the Rule of St. Benedict, a guide for everyday people desiring to live in harmony with others. It’s been the guide for monasteries for 1500 years and is often looked to by those practicing a new monasticism from urban to rural contexts. It has so much wisdom to offer! I have submitted myself to the leadership of Sacred Heart Monastery in Lisle, IL as I study to become a Benedictine Oblate. And, not to have my spiritual life get all the focus, I have also developed some great new habits that have given my life a physical makeover! This motivation comes out of a place of deep pain and self-awareness of who I am and who I am not.

As of result of these life changes, I am filled with hope and optimism because God has been so kind in allowing me daily to realize and change in certain ways that I thought would take a lot longer to happen (not to say that I’m in anyway near completion).

I’ve been having some long email conversations with a friend of mine about “mutual submission”, just fleshing out my thoughts on the matter and what I’m looking for, believe in, want to offer, etc.

I realize how often I act out of mistrust and fear in pushing for “mutual” submission….yet I don’t live it myself. I think I react out of a fear of being controlled, and then I push back against that misperception. I am at peace now because I love someone who I deeply trust, and I am learning to submit to him, his sense of timing for and wisdom in the decisions he makes; I realize how much I trust his judgment, even now, to make major decisions on behalf of both of us for the mutual benefit and well-being of our friendship.

I have lost everything in my life and gained the whole world!

Today’s reflection by Henri Nouwen:
Losing and Gaining Our Lives

The great paradox of life is that those who lose their lives will gain them. This paradox becomes visible in very ordinary situations. If we cling to our friends, we may lose them, but when we are non-possessive in our relationships, we will make many friends. When fame is what we seek and desire, it often vanishes as soon as we acquire it, but when we have no need to be known, we might be remembered long after our deaths. When we want to be in the center, we easily end up on the margins, but when we are free enough to be wherever we must be, we find ourselves often in the center.

Giving away our lives for others is the greatest of all human arts. This will gain us our lives.

Willowcreek’s message this past Sunday by Greg Hawkins was fabulous! I’ve never heard such a succinct message on the deep foundations of spiritual growth, the disciplines and the objectives. I’m making it all sound so complex. But, the message was about coming home – to oneness with Jesus. I highly recommend ordering the CD. I plan to listen to it again soon. One of the first points Hawkins made was about wrestling with the concept of “salvation by grace.” For many believers, we’re still interacting with God in the same patterns that we’ve learned through our first relationship with our parents and siblings. We think God’s view of us is similar to how our natural father/mother treated us as. Even if we intellectually recognize the fallacies of such thinking, when we do something “bad”, we act towards God with fear and distance because we’re suddenly afraid we’ve lost his pleasure in us, or that he’s an angry parent. We then fear the consequences, because as a child, we were taught through whatever form of punishment our parents believed in, that every bad action has a negative consequence. Sometimes though, grace allows good things to happen, even when we do bad things. God loved us while we were yet sinners and longs for our companionship, despite how often (even as a believer) we hurt him, treat him wrongly, or view him inaccurately.

So, I’ve been contemplating grace lately. What does it mean to receive it from God? What does it feel like to be treated by others with grace or not to be treated with grace?

What does it practically look like when I give it (in the context of having relational standards, offering forgiveness, accepting, not judging, etc.)?

When someone has a “standard” that comes from God’s standard for relational interaction, (like a desire to be treated with love, forgiveness, respect, gentleness, patience, mutual submission, selflessness, humility or any other “fruit of the spirit”) – when does it become right (when is it wrong) to walk away from that person because they cannot live up to those standards? How good is good enough? Is it just one person’s personal preference for who we choose to keep in our relational lives; or does it depend on our own ability to offer grace; does it depend on how much we’ve experienced God’s grace for ourselves and then are able to offer it to others? Aren’t we all going to fail sometimes to meet any relational standards? Where then does grace come in, and how much should people put up with failing to treat others according to those “standards”?

In the case of abuse, it seems clear that the standards of relational treatment require distance and even a cutting off. But, beyond that, if someone is willing and seeking character transformation and God is exceedingly faithful to continue His work of forming us into the likeness of Christ, producing the fruit of the spirit in us, shouldn’t then grace be offered and the relationship continue? I’m at a loss to answer these questions for myself or to understand my story through the lens of when I have/haven’t been treated with grace and when I have/haven’t offered others grace. There is too much cutting off of relationships in this culture. We’re all one in Christ and will eternally live in that perfect oneness someday. Why do people treat relationships, friendships, neighbors, and community members with such a buffet-style mentality?

I can definitely describe relationships where I haven’t been treated with grace, but in those same relationships, I can say that I’ve experienced mercy, gentleness, compassion and love. Yet, I’m struggling to tell stories of having experienced grace in a community of believers. I’ve felt tolerance, maybe even felt loved, but grace....that’s something I’m struggling to recognize having been the recipient of. It’s still somewhat hazy in my mind as to how to describe what it looks like in concrete terms and I’ve failed miserably to communicate what I’m looking for to those I love.

Understanding grace seems to be a major part of my current transformation process, as I sit in the desert of my soul and pursue God – my only lifeline in a wasteland of questions without answers. In this moment, I am loved and I am not alone.

Currently Reading:

How to Be a Monastic and Not Leave Your Day Job: An Invitation to Oblate Life
by Brother Benet Tvedten

If I wasn’t at work right now in the Chicago loop crunching numbers on bank reconciliations, I’d be sitting in a cave in the deserts of Jordan, wearing a burlap sack and drinking only water, crying out to God to whisper to me in the wind.

But, I’m not in a cave. I’m in a cubicle. And, I’m begging God to show up in a very tangible way so I can ask Him why He’s answering my prayers for transformation in such a difficult way. Is character always formed through fire? Why can’t it be like a classroom, where I show up, am told something about myself and what I need to do differently, and then I go do it? Why can’t it be like seeking God’s presence, and having found it, walk away transformed? Why does it have to involve pain, patience, suffering, and anguish of the soul? I don’t get it right now, but I’m grateful that I’m being transformed nonetheless.

If ever God were to transform an always-future-thinking person like myself, He would have to allow the present situation to become such a force as to require my every waking energies to focus on it, to endure it, as He would then ask me to fully enter into it and acknowledge it as more real than the future, letting it infuse my being with the fullness of its presence.

Somewhere in the deep waters of that present moment, I will notice that Jesus is with me. For the time being, I’m saying to myself: “In this moment, I am loved and I am never alone.”

I have been a hermit this past year. I have been seeking God through desert spirituality. I am ever changing and being transformed. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. I am presently mourning many things, and I will be, in the future, comforted. I just don’t know when.