LONGING TO BE SEEN

 “… I have now seen the One who sees me…”  (Genesis 16:13)

All of us long to be seen. Being seen is relational. It requires another to be the “seer”. When people see us, they actively listen, they hear us. We understand we matter, that someone cherishes us.

We are naturally wired with the longing to be seen, beginning in childhood. Children learn to know themselves through the reflection of their adult caregivers — including parents, teachers, coaches, and others. When our caregivers see us well, they provide a sturdy platform for us to become healthy adults. But if our caregivers do not see us well, our sense of ourselves suffers. We may become fiercely critical of ourselves and others, overly responsible, and perfectionistic. Shame, depression, and loneliness may become companions, no matter the actual circumstances of our lives.

Our longing to be seen is not only a childhood need. Adults need to be seen as well. Relationships flourish when we genuinely see one another. This is true in partnerships of all kinds, among family members, friends, co-workers, and neighbors. When someone sees us, our hearts open and reveal our secret longings. This is sacred terrain. Howard Thurman writes:

“The secrets of the heart are the raw material of the genuine spirit of the individual. They are the stuff of the Spirit that dwells deep within each one of us.” (Howard Thurman, Meditations of the Heart, Beacon Press, Boston, page 199)

We can think about seeing and the longing to be seen in our animal friends. For example, I walk down the street and pass someone walking their dog. The dog may approach me, looking to be seen, to be acknowledged. This may be a pat on the head, or a scratch under the chin, or a gentle stroking of the back. Being seen by our animal friends works the other way too. I had a dog friend who intuitively knew when I need his companionship. If I was sad, he would jump up on the couch and cuddle up with me. 

The secrets of the heart may include desires about the future or regrets about the past. We may have long buried these secrets of the heart, especially if others have dismissed or neglected us. Trauma of any kind, at any age, shuts down the heart. Yet the longing to be seen never goes away, no matter how deeply hidden. 

My parents meant well. They loved me and gave me many gifts: love of reading, concern for others, hunger for learning. They encouraged me to help make the world better for others. While my family lived through financial struggles, there was always enough money for food, rent, and a new pair of sneakers when the old ones wore out.

But trauma cast a dark cloud. My mother’s mental illness and eventual disappearance left me with a sense of loneliness, of being abandoned and confused. My father’s alcoholism and failed second marriage pierced me. I became hyper-vigilant, overly responsible for others, trying desperately to please in order to feel safe. I emerged from childhood with deep scars.

I began drinking alcohol in my early teens. Initially, drinking was a way to relax and be social. Over time, drinking became a requirement, no longer a choice. Alcohol kept buried powerful emotions, like fear, anger, and grief.

Years went by before I could admit that I needed help. The gift of recovery came to me and changed my life. Looking back, I recognize that my deepest longing was to be seen, heard, and cherished. Recovery brought this gift of being seen as I had never known. Recovery also showed me how to offer this gift to others. 

And the cycle continues. As I open my heart to seeing others, my heart opens to myself as well. I discover more of what brings me joy and fulfillment. Recently, I spent a few weeks with my grandchildren. They are growing up in a loving home, with attentive parents who set boundaries. As a result, these children are delightfully free to express their desires, creativity, and enthusiasm for life. They know they are worthy of love, of life. They are a joy to behold!

This deep longing to be seen propels us — children and adults — toward life, awakening to the aliveness of life. We live authentically, in line with the values we hold dear, because we know that someone sees, loves, and cherishes us. This is a gift that we can quietly offer to one another, a gift that honors the goodness of humanity. 

FOR REFLECTION

~ Reflecting on your life, is there a relationship in which you did not feel seen, heard, and cherished? How has this relationship affected your life?

~ Reflect on a relationship in which you did (or do) feel seen, heard, and cherished. How has this relationship shaped you?

~ Consider offering the gift of being seen this day. Perhaps you can offer this gift to someone you know, a neighbor, friend, or family member. Or, to a stranger whom you pass on the street or in the grocery store. Or turn the gift of being seen to yourself. 

Offer any reflections or comments in the comments section below.

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ENTERING TIMELESSNESS: A MOMENT OF PAUSE

“… that, with you as our ruler and guide, we may so pass through things temporal, that we lose not the things eternal…” (From the Collect of the Day, Lectionary of the Episcopal Church, Proper 12, Sunday closest to July 27)

We’re in a whirlwind here in the U.S.A. A few short weeks ago, an assassination attempt threatened the life of a presidential nominee, while killing one person and injuring two others. Eight days later, the President stepped aside and endorsed his Vice President. If she wins, she will become the first woman — a Black woman — to hold the office of President of the United States. And she has picked a Vice-Presidential candidate who is a Midwesterner and knows rural America well. 

Suddenly, new energy soars through our political environment. While chaos continues, hope for a bright future shines forth. I am delighted to see a groundswell of leaders show civility and respect in our political discourse. They remind us that welcoming differences of opinion strengthen us.

For all the excitement, I am exhausted from the chaos, vengeance, name-calling, and threats of violence. Perhaps you are too. Our collective nervous systems are in overdrive! I am taking time to slow down and recover from this era of chaos.  

When we slow down, we create an opportunity to tune in. This can be hard to do. Tuning in means we put aside our to-do lists that keeps us focused on the clock. I often catch myself trying to go faster, fearing that time is “running out.” Time, of course, is not running out. 

Many of us are living in this doggedly time-bound state. The Greeks had two words for time. Chronos is chronological, or what we call clock time. This is where we spend most of our daily lives. The other Greek word for time is kairos. Kairos is eternal time, or what we may call timelessness. This is the sense of time when everything seems to slow down. We feel part of a larger reality held in nature, like when watching a sunrise. 

Film directors are skilled at using their medium to suggest slowing down time. Amidst all the upheaval in our recent politics, many of us watched some of America’s premier athletes offer stunning performances at the Paris Olympics. The exhilarating gymnastic routines captivated me. Gymnasts seem to fly at the speed of light, while performing complex sequences of moves.

After the performance, the sportscasters often display a slow-motion replay. The slower film allows us to better appreciate the details of the gymnast’s moves. We see how different parts of the body twist and turn, how one movement leads into the next. The film director helps us tap into a kind of “timelessness”.

Many people in the creative arts regularly enter timelessness. They have learned the power and freedom that comes from translating imagination into physical reality. They release themselves from the tyranny of time and discover the power of love that fuels Life. We have much to learn from these artists, musicians, and others in the creatives! They tap into a world without time, a sense of timelessness. This world is open to us all.

Meditation is another technique that allows us to enter “timelessness.” All forms of meditation suggest that we set aside time away from our usual schedules to be quiet, to tune in, and to practice regularly. As we take this time to be with our inner terrain, our experience of time itself shifts. We shift our focus from daily life activities to the complex terrain of our inner world. Time is no longer measured by what we do, but by what we experience. We discover how our minds work beyond our usual awareness and we experience thoughts, emotions, and sensations that we usually ignore. Our experience of time itself shifts. We tap into timelessness. 

“In the process of entering timelessness, familiar ways of thinking make way for awareness of deeper layers of truth beneath these habitual patterns of thinking. Deeper and deeper layers can be unraveled, and finally there is just silence.” (Images of the Soul by Dean van Kampenhout, published by Carl-Auer-Systeme Verlag, Heidelberg Germany, page 57)

Meditation is sometimes called a process of awakening. We awaken to more of who we are, or who we think we are, and who we are not. For example, I may discover sensations like a frozen tension in my stomach that never quite goes away; or a depressed mood that becomes a steady companion; or a mental thought pattern of planning every small detail. As I allow myself to breathe into these experiences, they begin to release, and deeper layers emerge.

In time-bound daily life, our usual perception is that there is a clear boundary between our inner world and the outer world. Inner world refers to the realm of thoughts, feelings, and sensations that seem to exist inside our body/minds. Outer world refers to other people, places, things, and events that we perceive as outside the boundaries of our body/minds. Our sense of time is defined in terms of past, present, and future. 

When we shift our awareness from daily activities inward, the complexity of our inner life becomes clearer. The boundary between inner and outer seems to dissolve. We become more focused, compassionate toward ourselves and others, and more resilient. We are better able to set boundaries as our connection with others deepens. As the journey of awakening continues, we are less defined by language like inner and outer, past, present, and future. These are the effects of timelessness.

Here’s another way to describe timelessness in the process of meditation:

“Attention can also be trained to focus deeper and deeper, and then timelessness becomes not just an absence of linear time, but a distinct present of something else; something which feels good, full, and rich.”  (Images of the Soul by Dean van Kampenhout, Published by Carl-Auer-Systeme Verlag, Heidelberg Germany, page 54)

Spiritual traditions around the world use the language of eternity to point toward an experience of timelessness. For Christians, to be a child of God is to know ourselves as held in the timeless eternity of God. According to Christianity, we go beyond our usual time bound frame of past, present, and future. The Christian journey is learning to take on the mind of Christ. This involves discovering the endless ways we come short of this lofty goal while holding the aspiration to reach toward it.

Prayer is the practice of recognizing eternal reality in daily life. To live in this awareness is transformational because the eternal is the reality of love, transcending all time and space. This is timelessness. 

QUESTIONS FOR REFLECTION

~ How have you experienced timelessness? How do you describe your experience? 

~ If not, what do you think (or sense) may hinder you from experiencing timelessness? What might help you?

Feel free to post your responses to these questions and/or anything in this post.

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EMERGENCE

In the late 1990s, a movement began within Christianity called the “emergent church”. It sought to clarify the core principles of Christianity that lay beyond warring denominational differences. The Emergent Church aimed to be a path toward Christian unity. Emergent Church was an attempt to re-invigorate the church. Emergent worship services frequently included these words from Isaiah:

“Behold, I am doing a new thing;

 now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?

I will make a way in the wilderness

and rivers in the desert.”  (Isaiah 46:19)

Over twenty years ago, I was part of a team that created a Sunday evening worship service, called simply “Emerge”. There was a simplicity to the service, and a pointed message: “God’s love is for all, the journey is challenging, we journey together.” No pretension. People felt safe to be vulnerable, encouraged to persevere, and strengthened for the journey. 

To this day, I keep an Emerge service announcement card and Isaiah’s words on my desk. They remind me that God is doing a new thing, right here, right now, bringing forth new life no matter how much chaos, harm, and destruction we may perceive.

The secular world of philosophy and science also has a long history of seeing emergence as a principle inherent in all living things. Emergence describes the distinct patterns and behaviors that can arise out of complex systems. For example, an embryo begins with a single cell, out of which come bones, muscles, and organs carefully shaped into what we call a “baby”. 

Emergence is the principle underlying medical science: our bodies are programmed to heal. This isn’t to deny death. Rather, in the miracle of life, new cells are created, while old cells die off. This creative process goes on quietly, moment by moment, until we take our last breath.

Scripture offers a theological perspective. Emergence is God’s force of Love expressed throughout creation. We become the best humans we can be when we nurture love in ourselves and with others:

“Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God, and whoever loves has been born of God and knows God.… God is love, and whoever abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him. By this is love perfected with us.”  (1 John 4: 7, 16-17)

I am old enough to remember 1967 when The Beatles album “Magical Mystery Tour” came out. And John Lennon’s song, “All You Need Is Love”, played on every radio in the United States and Europe. The words go like this: 

ALL YOU NEED IS LOVE

Lyrics by John Lennon

“Love, love, love… Love, love, love… Love, love, love

There’s nothin’ you can do that can’t be done

Nothin’ you can sing that can’t be sung

Nothin’ you can say, but you can learn how to play the game

It’s easy

Nothin’ you can make that can’t be made

No one you can save that can’t be saved

Nothin’ you can do, but you can learn how to be you in time

It’s easy

All you need is love… All you need is love… All you need is love

Love is all you need”

As a teenager, I believed these words. Now, the message appears quaint, too simplistic, a mere fantasy. And yet John Lennon’s lyrics capture a thread that runs deep within the religions and spiritual traditions around the world. We are created of love and intended to love.

Medical science affirms the power of love to promote healing in children and adults. So too for those who are dying. Hospice care has become more widely available as we learn what ancient communities have always known: people die more peacefully in an environment of care and compassion.  

Consciousness remains a mysterious reality for science to define. Yet our everyday experience shows us the magical mystery of our thinking minds, with the proliferation of thoughts, inherent creativity, and endless imagination that is present in the very young and continues throughout our lives.

When we do nothing but fight with each other, proclaim our self righteousness, treat one another as the enemy, we are emerging as creatures who are less than who we can be. We violate our nature as loving beings. 

We emerge, moment by moment, day by day. And, except for the harshest conditions, we are free to move in directions that support emergence toward life or direct it toward harm.

How shall we handle this precious quality of emergence? When we listen, care for, treat each other with kindness and respect, strive to work collaboratively, we align with the best of who we are. These words from St. Paul summarize what I believe to be true:

“Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you.”  (St. Paul’s Letter to the Philippians 4:8-9)

Emergence is the principle behind growth and creativity. For example, I witness my children emerge from little ones into adulthood. I witness myself emerge as a grandmother. And I continue to witness that an environment of love quickens the emergence toward new life.

In our human lives, we all witness a new period emerging from what has gone before. Sometimes the “new thing” is wonderful, joyous, and exciting, even if daunting. Other times the new emergence is unwelcome, like an illness, death, or loss of home or job. The scriptural promise is that God is present at all times, in all things, no matter what.

QUESTIONS FOR REFLECTION

What does emergence look like in your life? You may notice it in raising children or plants, creating or learning something new. You may notice emergence within a painful period, as you realize that something once treasured (such as a relationship, career, living situation, or political ideal) is slipping away. 

What does emergence look like as you look outward, toward your community, the country and the wider world?

Feel free to offer your responses to these questions or anything in this post in the Comments section below.

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FORMING A NEW IDENTITY

In my last post, I suggested that our public discourse is now infused with anger that we are losing our souls….. (https://incarnation-place.com/) Here, I look more closely at what that means for us as a society, and how we can re-orient toward a life of flourishing.

Recently, esteemed documentary filmmaker Ken Burns interviewed Krista Tippett, a best-selling author and award-winning broadcaster. Their conversation was a fascinating and wide-ranging conversation about faith and spirituality. (https://www.pbs.org/kenburns/unum/playlist/

Krista Tippett suggests that humanity today is at an evolutionary inflection point. No longer guided by traditional religious teaching, humanity is struggling with the absence of trustworthy guides for moral life. Until recently, religious institutions were the primary vehicle for moral formation and identity.

Moral formation and identity are not only about “good behavior”. Rather, morality refers to the larger question that philosophers, spiritual leaders, and theologians around the world, throughout history, have pursued: what does it mean for humans to lead a worthwhile life? 

Christianity offers the language of “virtues and vices”. Virtues are qualities such as generosity, humility, honesty, kindness, and patience. Vices are the opposite of virtues, and include qualities such as greed, pride, envy, and wrath. The pursuit of virtues produces a moral life; the pursuit of vices corrupts life. This is central to the moral guidance given in western religions, including Christianity, Judaism and Islam. Eastern spiritual traditions, such as Buddhism, Taoism, Confucianism, and Vedanta, also echo this teaching. Eastern traditions use words such as wisdom, compassion, respect, and equanimity to name humanity’s highest ideals.

Today we live in a society increasingly dominated by the language of division, engaged in a perpetual state of war. Leaders incite their followers to attack, condemn, and exact revenge. Individuals and communities increasingly isolate from one another, view others as enemies, and justify wrath. People refuse to take responsibility for their actions. 

We are losing our souls because we have become entangled in a web of everything that goes against virtue. The path of rage, vengeance, and greed can energize, focus the mind, and give a sense of purpose: “eliminate the other guy!” This mindset is contagious, so it’s no wonder our public discourse is full of this forceful and threatening language. It is also addictive. Like all addictive behavior, individuals and groups weave their thinking with lies and half-truths, cloaked in the expression of a victim identity. Forgiveness has no place. Our  country’s trajectory is fostering the very worst in us. We are spiraling down in a path of spiritual decay. We are losing our souls, collectively and individually.

Tippett observes that, in the United States, it has been only a few generations since religion served as the source of moral guidance. The fracturing of religious institutions leaves an enormous gap in our moral imagination and vocabulary. As Tippett says, we are at an inflection point. Our calling today is to articulate a common vision for our human life, a vision that captures the moral guidance of virtue and the turning away from vices; an identity that fosters our basic needs for connection, belonging, and acceptance. This is a spiritual vision, says Tippett, that transcends religion. How we respond has far-reaching consequences, not only for our society but for the future of generations to come.

Readers of this blog know I am deeply influenced by Buddhist practices which help bring alive some of the essential teachings of Jesus. As my son once said, “Jesus tells me what to do, Buddha tells me how to do it.” Jesus tells us to love God with all our heart, mind, and soul and to love our neighbor as ourselves. Buddha tells us to study our minds in the service of wisdom and compassion toward self and others. 

How can we turn the tide toward a more wholesome and life-giving society? Here are some suggestions. I encourage you to offer your own thoughts below in the comments section. 

~ Build coalitions. Find people in your community who share your basic values. Connect with them. Listen. Take up a group activity. Read a book together, or watch a film together, and discuss it. 

~ Engage with people who share different opinions from yours. Learn to listen. Ask questions to help you better understand what needs and concerns underlie and fuel differing opinions. Can you find one or two core values you agree on? However, the conversation ends, strive to part with respect. 

~ Focus on intention. Keep clear what values most deeply inspire you. Strive to live into these values in all that you do. And begin again, no matter how often you fall.

~ Turn to spiritual teachings that speak to what you most believe is wise. This Christian teaching guides me daily: God’s presence in is continually moving within us, no matter how dark and painful the journey, bringing us back to love. This reality, in the words of theologian Robert Mulholland, is: “… a long steady process of grace, working far beyond our knowing and understanding…” (M. Robert Mulholland, Invitation to a Journey, Intervarsity Press Books, 2016, p. 26)

May we know peace, within ourselves and in the outer world.

REFLECTION QUESTIONS

~ How do you respond to the ideas presented here? What do you agree with? What do you disagree with? 

~ How do you engage with those who make choices or hold opinions you disagree with? 

~ What helps you maintain respect for others you disagree with?

Again, I encourage you to offer your thoughts, reflections and questions in the comments section.

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MIND OF CHRIST

I am deeply concerned about our country, the state of our public discourse, and the vitriol that infuses our language and thought. We are trapped in an “us vs. them” mindset and we turn anyone who disagrees into the “enemy.” Political leaders freely promise “retribution” against anyone who they perceive as disloyal. 

Hatred is nothing new. But the hostility that infects our discourse today violates the principles which infuse our rich heritage of philosophy, religion, and scientific thought, namely the search for truth, wisdom, and compassion. In short, we have lost our moorings, choosing to anchor in chaos.

My deeper concern is that we are losing our souls. 

Theologian Richard Rohr says:

“We live with an inherent dignity by reason of our very creation, a dignity that no human has given to us and no human can take from us. All things created bear the divine fingerprint…” (Richard Rohr, Yes, and… Daily Meditations, Franciscan Media, copyright 2013, p. 211)

In our current climate, we are running away from our inherent dignity. We are moving away from the best of who we are.  Instead we remain suspicious and fearful. We excuse dishonesty and justify actions that humiliate others. An honest search for truth and commitment to wisdom and compassion are in short supply.

This is not merely a political, social, or cultural problem. We are living through a spiritual crisis, In biblical terms, we are choosing the kingdom of darkness rather than striving for the kingdom of Light.

What is the alternative? I turn to St. Paul who suggests that for Christians, the challenge is to be “transformed by the renewal of your mind.” (Romans 12:2a). For St. Paul this means: 

“… In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus…” (St. Paul’s letter to the Philippians 2:5)

St. Paul is a complex figure. I don’t pretend to accept everything he says. But his urging that we strive to take on the mind of Christ captures me, and offers a way to move through these times.

What is the “mindset of Christ”? St. Paul puts it this way:

“… as people of God, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity. (Colossians 3: 12-14)

Jesus tells us that following Him is a journey into love, which is our deepest nature. Just as plants turn toward light, our natural inclination is toward giving and receiving love. This is the essence of the Christian journey: learning how to love, trusting that God loves us. Much of the journey is discovering what keeps us from love, learning to surrender, and allowing God to move us in a new direction.  

The journey of love is a process that unfolds throughout our lives. My experience is that the spiritual journey is like walking through a labyrinth. We walk forward, taking many side trips, sometimes walking backward. Usually, only in hindsight do we recognize God presence through all of our experience. In the ancient words of Psalm 139, “You have searched me, Lord, and you know me….” (Psalm 139:1)

Specifically, day to day, how do we take on the mind of Christ? Here are some practical actions that help me through these days:

~ Take time each day to pray. 

~ Turning off the news, especially limiting exposure to angry arguments, name-calling, and violence. (Newspapers, magazines, blogs, podcasts, etc.)

~ Clarifying my values, what I truly care about, and how I want to live today accordingly. This includes admitting my limitations and examining what gets in my way of living according to my values. 

~ Cultivating supportive, reciprocal relationships. People with whom I share honestly about myself and they share honestly about their lives.  

~ Say “yes” more than “no” to opportunities to help others.

~ Pursuing relationships and activities that bring me joy. 

~ Resting. Sometimes this means taking a nap. Other times, resting is playing a game of solitaire or paint-by-number.

In closing, I leave you with these words from St. Paul:

“For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus…” (Romans 8:38-39)

FOR REFLECTION

~ What do you find helpful during this time? 

~ What does taking on the mind of Christ mean for you? 

~ What hinders you from trying to take on the mind of Christ?

~ What supports you in toward this aspiration?

Please share your thoughts and reflections in the comments section. 

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COMING ALIVE IN LOVE

“Don’t ask yourself what the world needs. Ask yourself what makes you come alive, and go do that, because what the world needs is people who have come alive….”  

   (Howard Thurman, mentor to Martin Luther King)

This week, witnessing the solar eclipse was, for many, a memorable experience of coming alive. News reports featured people saying, for example: “We were so moved. It felt like a genuine sense of unity, with each other and with the universe.” “I felt a sense of belonging that I’ve never felt before!” “I cried the tears of joy that I cannot explain.” I did not see the eclipse, but hearing these stories brought me great joy. Coming alive can be contagious.

Easter is a time when the church comes alive. On March 31, the message rang out, “He is risen!” This is Easter, the celebration of the resurrection of Jesus Christ. Hopeful congregants fill churches with soaring music and beautiful flowers. The spirit of joy shines through. Churches feel very much alive. Many homes (Christian and non-Christian) host Easter egg hunts and offer baskets full of candy, bringing squeals of delight all around.

The deeper message of Easter is that physical death is not the end of life. Christians have lots of ways of envisioning the afterlife, including hierarchies of angels. Buddhists, Hindus, and other religions around the world offer images of an afterlife. However one envisions what happens after physical death, Easter is an offering. The Easter message is that Jesus Christ is with us, guiding, holding, loving us. God is loving us into life, into “coming alive,” even until the moment of death.  

The center of the story is love. Interestingly, some who witnessed the solar eclipse echoed this theme. Many who proclaimed “not to be religious” said that witnessing the eclipse was a “spiritual experience.” They felt a sense of “safety”, of “being held” in a universal field.

So why does the Christian story, the story of God taking human form, living, dying, and rising, matter? And what does this story mean for you and me, right here, right now?

Howard Thurman was a theologian, an author and teacher. He understood that human beings have a special place in God’s cosmology. God created humans “in His image” to love and be loved. Thurman’s message is that being fully alive is humanity’s path of expressing love.

Writer and Celtic theologian J. Philip Newell speaks of love as God’s golden thread that binds us together. Newell writes:

“If the golden thread were to be ripped out of the clothing the whole garment would unravel. So it is with the image of God woven into the mystery of our being. If somehow it were to be extracted we would cease to exist.” (J. Philip Newell, Echo of the Soul: The Sacredness of the Human Body, Morehouse Publishing, 2000, page xi.)

Ideally, the Church is God’s offering, a divine organism known through Jesus Christ, to help us awaken to God’s love within and among us. It is to be a living body of Christ, a community of healing to a suffering world. The Church is, as the Zen koan says, the finger pointing at the moon, what scripture calls “the kingdom of God.”

From a young age, I felt a powerful pull towards Buddhist messages of compassion, as readers of this blog are aware. (See these posts: https://wordpress.com/post/incarnation-place.com/137 ; https://wordpress.com/post/incarnation-place.com/110 )

Today, Buddhist study and meditation practice deeply inform my Christian journey of faith. In Buddhist teachings, I learn practical tools for developing compassion. I also learn to identify and work with the obstacles to compassion, in myself and others. 

Buddhist meditation is for me a doorway into a deeper sense of authenticity, with myself and in relationship with others and the world. I learn how to make space for the depth of suffering and the examination of human sins, like pride, anger, greed, and so on, in myself and others.

Years ago, one of my sons dove into Zen practice and invited me to join him. I went on retreat at a Zen Buddhist retreat center. As I entered the zendo (Zen meditation hall), I felt a sense of what I can only call Divine Presence. It was so palpable I felt as though I could reach out and scoop it up. I felt startled. I’d been taught that this Presence was available only in Church, associated with Jesus and the Holy Spirit. But the feeling was unmistakable. No thought, confusion or doubt — just a knowing, as if held in the arms of Divine mystery.

Zen challenged me to give up my most cherished images of who I am, who God is, and trust that something new will emerge. Sometimes, I feel confusion, fear, and bewilderment. It is hard to stay in the space of “not knowing” who I am or what I believe. Yet, as I practice, a feeling of tremendous relief comes over me. It’s a relief to admit “not knowing”, to accept feelings of overwhelm and doubt to surface and speak their reality.

Through Buddhist meditation, a deeper sense of authenticity emerges, the very thing I was missing as a “practicing Christian”. This is a felt sense of belonging in myself, in the world, in God. This is an experience of Life breathing through me, in my body and mind. I come alive.

These are examples of what coming alive looks like in my life:

~ Various forms of writing, teaching, and coaching, including this blog

~ Time with my grandchildren

~ Walks in nature

I have also learned to set boundaries. I am not well suited for certain forms of service. I accept these limitations in myself and encourage to support to discover to do the same.

My life may look similar or very different from yours. My husband, for example, volunteers on medical mission trips in rural communities, often in Asia. He also volunteers in a shop, helping restore antique airplanes. They restore each airplane to ensure that it will fly. Bret thrives in pursuing these activities. Here, he comes alive.

QUESTIONS FOR REFLECTION

~ What makes you come alive? 

~ Do you struggle to answer that question? If so, what is this struggle for you? 

~ What helps you know you are not alone in the struggle?

Feel free to post your responses in the comments section.

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PALM SUNDAY

For Christians, today is known as Palm Sunday, the beginning of Holy Week. This is the time of year where Christians are shepherded through the painful story of Jesus’ crucifixion and the joyful celebration of his resurrection. 

The Palm Sunday liturgy (worship service) is among the longest, most complex, and difficult in the entire Christian liturgical calendar. The service begins with a joyful scene of Jesus riding into Jerusalem to cheering crowds, ushering him in waving palm leaves. (Hence the name “Palm Sunday”). This celebration expresses the community’s love and appreciation for Jesus, who dedicated his life to ministering to the people, healing, teaching, and preaching. His primary message: “Love God with all your heart and soul. And love your neighbor as you have been loved.” This is a beautiful message and his ministry is a powerful expression of it. 

Then the tables turn. Judas, one of Jesus’ disciples, betrays him, telling the authorities that Jesus is not who he says he is; that He is an imposter. And so begins what happens when one negative voice catches hold of others. A group turns into a mob who believe the lie and the mob becomes angry and violent. The authorities proclaim Jesus is an imposter and sentence Him to death by execution. 

Amid this chaos, even Jesus’ closest friends betray him. They fall asleep when he implores them to stay awake. And Peter, his most intimate companion, denies even knowing him.

The Palm Sunday service is like liturgical whiplash! This story, repeated each year, is horrific. It begins with love and appreciation for Jesus’s ministry and ends with a trial that condemns him to death on a cross. Fear, anger and betrayal ripple through the community like fire, turning love into hate-filled violence, shouting that Jesus is an imposter. “Crucify him,” they yell!

As I write, I hear words of so many who jump to remind us that the crucifixion is not the end of the story. That is true. The resurrection of Jesus is around the corner, according to the scriptures, three days after his physical death. The resurrection comes next Sunday, known as Easter Sunday. This will be the extravagant celebration of Jesus’ resurrection, the proclamation that Jesus lives eternally as the Christ.

Some Christians prefer to ignore Palm Sunday and jump ahead to Easter. It’s easy to understand why. Easter is a whole lot easier than facing the horror of Jesus’s crucifixion when “….Christ is massacred in His members, torn limb from limb; God is murdered in men.”  (Thomas Merton, New Seeds of Contemplation, p. 71)

And yet God’s love is proclaimed throughout the story. His love is present to Jesus and the crowd who betrayed Him. This is the great power of Christian faith. The love of God that transcends all Life, no matter how dark. 

From a human perspective, this transcendent love seems to make no sense. How can a God of love allow so much suffering? This question haunted me for years. In moments, it can still seduce me. I’m not the only one.

Let’s be clear. Even Jesus had his doubts. As he hung on the cross, in the 9th hour, the scriptures tell us, Jesus exclaimed, “My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?”  (Matthew 27:46) 

His words are searing. Our hearts break, sensing his doubt, knowing moments of our own. 

This doubt in deep suffering is part of the journey of experiencing Love. The scripture tells us that Jesus’ last words on the cross are, “Jesus cried out in a loud voice, ‘Father, into your hands I commend my spirit’; and when he had said this, he breathed his last”. (Luke 23:44) Jesus died knowing that God the Father had not abandoned him. 

The resurrection story is the ultimate proclamation of God’s love, no matter what, even death on a cross. However, Jesus could not experience the resurrection without going through the crucifixion. Neither can we.

The resurrection tells us that suffering is not the end of our journey, but is an essential element of it. The end is Love, and there is no end. Love was there at the beginning and carries through each moment of our lives, whether or not we know it or believe it. This is the Love that gives us the aliveness of life and extends beyond the grave. 

May we each find our own window into this truth.

QUESTIONS FOR REFLECTION

  • Have you felt an absence of God in times of great suffering? How did this sense of absence affected your experience of suffering?
  • Have you found the presence of God in times of great suffering? What difference did this sense of presence make?
  • In your journey of faith, what role has doubt played?
  • What helps you deepen in faith? 

“In the sufferings of my heart and the brokenness of creation, open to me further the doors of the eternal, that through the pain…  I may be guided to You as the heart of life…” (J. Philip Newell, Sounds of the Eternal, William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2002, p, 70)

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CONNECTION IN GRIEF & LOSS

“Welcoming everything that comes to us is the challenge. This is the secret to being fully alive.” (Francis Weller, The Wild Edge of Sorrow, page 8)

Connection is like the air we need to breathe. Humans need connection — with others and with our own selves. When we lose connection, our natural response is grief. 

Loss of connection comes in different forms: the physical death of a loved one, or our own impending death. Loss may come from illness that forces us to give up activities that once sustained us. We may go through the loss of a relationship, a dream, a home, a community. 

Connection and the grief from loss of connection is a cycle that threads through every human life. We cannot escape it. Yet society urges us to “move on”, “let it go”, “get moving.” We have little room for grief. This is especially true with the death of a parent or long-time partner.

Truthfully, we may prefer to “move on”. Grief hurts! It’s one of the most painful experiences that humans have. Why not ignore it? Eventually, we discover we can push grief away, but it remains inside us, awaiting our attention. It will re-surface, often when we least expect. 

Grief is a process, not an event. It follows its own schedule and comes in waves, which may come over weeks, months, or years. Each loss triggers its own grief, which may re-surface earlier experiences of loss. Unfortunately, we receive little guidance on what to expect or how to handle grief. It’s easier to ignore it. 

Francis Weller is a psychotherapist focusing specially on grief. His book, The Wild Edge of Sorrow, is a wise refection on grief. Weller never shies away from the pain of grief but urges us to consider that grief can be a tremendous teacher, leading us to a deeper appreciation of love. Grief spotlights what we most value in our relationships and guides us toward how we want to live beyond the loss. Weller identifies grief as “a basic human need… a deep encounter with an essential experience of being human.” (Francis Weller, The Wild Edge of Sorrow: Rituals of Renewal and the Sacred Work of Grief, North Atlantic Books, Berkeley, California, 2015, page xviii) 

The early loss of my mother shaped my childhood. For years, I cried myself to sleep, pleading with God and the Universe that she would return. She never did. I grew up thinking no loss would be this hard. Over the years, I experienced other losses which were painful, but losing Mom was the most challenging. 

In my 40s, I got a rude awakening. Between 1996 and 1998, three of my closest companions died. Grief overwhelmed me.  

In 1996, my father died after a long battle with cancer. Dad was my first God, against whom I compared all others. He was my hero, teacher, parent, guide, and best friend. He was also my drinking buddy. We spent many long hours, fueled with gin, lost in conversation about books and great ideas. As the evening wore on, the drinks increased, and our conversation shifted to making up stories about the people sitting next to us in the restaurant. When Dad died, a piece of me died with him. Grief overwhelmed me, yet I could not feel much of anything.  

That same year, my dear friend and mentor Judy died. Judy was an Episcopal priest. She was on her way to celebrate the Sunday service when she collapsed from a sudden heart attack. Judy died at the entrance to the church doors. This loss, so sudden and unexpected — I had just been with Judy a few days before — felt unbearable. Everything in me wanted to scream, “NO!”

Two years later, another close friend died. Denver was also an Episcopal priest. But while Judy had been very much a mentor, and surrogate mother figure, Denver, who was close to my age, was like a brother. I sat at Denver’s bedside with a few close friends, as he took his final breaths. He died after a long battle with AIDS. Now the battle was over. I was glad that his suffering was over. But the power of his loss grabbed me. I felt as though the floor of my insides opened and my guts would fall out.

One of the exceptional gifts I received leading up to and through these powerful losses was prayer. Judy, Denver, and a small group of friends taught me the power of prayer. The church community we were a part of had a serious commitment to prayer. Through the ups and downs in our personal and professional lives, we supported each other with prayer. We met weekly and prayed for peace and healing in our community and the world. We experienced profound intimacy and companionship from these years of shared prayer. 

As painful as the losses were, learning to pray through grief opened me up. Grief became life giving through shared prayer. These words from Weller are true: “Grief work (is) an ongoing practice of deepening, attending and listening. It is an act of devotion, rooted in love and compassion.” (Weller, p. 5)

Energy poured out of me to offer this power of praying through grief to others who were suffering loss. I created a weekly prayer group for anyone who was suffering through loss. The group expanded over several years, and I taught others how to facilitate it. I wrote essays about grief and prayer, which were published and distributed among several parishes.  

Unfortunately, grief is all but ignored in many church communities. The great irony is that death is a big deal in Christianity. What could be worse than the brutal execution of God’s Son, not to mention the betrayal by some of his closest companions? And with death comes grief.

Yet too often the message of the church is, Christians are welcome to cry on Good Friday. But by Easter Sunday, you better be overflowing with joy. 

Some pastors are skilled at sitting with those who are dying. Many clergy are terrific at leading funerals. But after the funeral, it’s time to move on. Forget the loved ones who remain. One problem is that little training is available to lay people. Many people (lay and clergy) view praying with others as an activity reserved only for the ordained.

The history of Christian art does not shy away from the suffering. Paintings through the centuries depict Mary and the Christ Child, Mary at the Cross, a Pregnant Woman with no place to give birth, the crucifixion, the betrayal, and the body of Jesus, lying lifeless in his mother’s arms, and so on. Artists have penetrated the heart of suffering woven through the Christian story better than many well-meaning church-goers. This is the encounter that Weller names:

 “… (G)rief is not a problem to be solved, not a condition to be medicated, but a deep encounter with an essential experience of being human… The lack of courtesy and compassion surround grief is astonishing, reflecting an underlying fear and mistrust of this basic human experience. We must restore the healing ground of grief. We must find the courage, once again, to walk its wild edge.” (Weller, pages xviii-xix)

QUESTIONS FOR REFLECTION

  • Of the losses in your life, which were the most challenging? Why? What did you learn?
  • Consider these three quotes from Weller. How do you respond? Do any of these resonate with your experience of grief and loss? 
  1. “It is the bittersweet embrace of love and loss that sharpens our appreciation for those we love.” (Weller, page 26)
  1. “…. (W)e are burdened by undigested sorrows… Far too many of us suffer from broken hearts that remain unattended.” (Weller, p 23)
  1. “(G)rief is necessary to the vitality of the soil. Contrary to our fears, grief is suffused with life force. It is riddled with energy… It is truly an emotion that rises from the soul.” (Weller, pages 9-10)

In closing, here are words from St. Teresa:

“May today there be peace within.

May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be.

May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith.

May you use those gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you.

May you be content knowing that you are a child of God.

Let this presence settle into your bones, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love. 

It is there for each and everyone of you.” 

― Teresa of Ávila

Feel free to post your reflections on this essay in the comments section. Thank you.

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IMAGES OF GOD & SELF

We hear the familiar words: “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth…. and then separated light from dark…” (Genesis 1:1) This Day 1. On Day 6, we humans show. “God says, ‘Let us make mankind in our image, in our likeness…’” (Genesis 1:26). And so we arrive, unique among God’s creatures, created “in the image of God”. 

But what does it mean to be created “in the image of God?” How are we to live our “God image” nature?

At its best, Christian theology, worship, moral teaching, and prayer function to guide us. Living our “image of God” nature means loving others as God has loved us, with a heavy emphasis on practicing forgiveness. “Loving others” means appreciating the dignity of each human life, regardless of class, race, gender or any other category. For Christians, Jesus Christ is the “way, the truth, and the life” whom we follow to live into our nature as an image of God.

As children and adults, we form our God pictures from experiences with trusted teachers, including parents, clergy, and friends, as well as scripture and other religious and non-religious writings. Images of God may also come to us through music, dance, art, architecture, and media as expressions of religious figures, scenes from scripture, or creative imaging of spiritual realities, like angels and demons.

We humans absorb these images as a way of making sense of God, of ourselves, and the world. Our images of God are powerful forces that shape our faith, our values, our self-identity, and how we see the world. We carry these God pictures with us, as images, feelings, intuitions, sensations, thoughts, and ideas. These images hold our aspirations, longings, doubts, and fears about who we are and our relationship to God. They may motivate us to do great things or help us show up for the routine of daily life. Our pictures of God show us who we think we are and who we are not; who we want to be and who we do not want to be. These inner perceptions of transcendent reality move, shape, and re-form over time throughout our lives. Our images of God help shape and inspire our values, what we care about for ourselves and the world.

Judeo-Christian scriptures present a wide range of varied and sometimes contradictory images of who God is. For example, God is a loving father, the creator of the universe, a royal king, a shepherd, a prophet, and a divine leader. Scripture also portrays God as an angry, jealous tyrant. For Christians, Jesus Christ is the ultimate image of God. And in the Gospels, images of Jesus abound. Jesus is a friend, lover, guide, prophet, healer, king, disgraced leader, not to mention a fraud.

This multiplicity of images has its corollary in our own minds. Our inner images of God are both conscious and unconscious images. Our childhood experiences with parents and other significant caregivers form our deepest, often unconscious images of God. These unconscious images may contract our conscious ones. For example, consciously, we may believe that “God is love.” But if Mom was caring but distant, we unconsciously project these qualities onto God and form a “caring but distant” God image. If Dad was angry, we may develop an image of God as the “angry father.” The “caring but distant God” and the “angry father God” show up in our deep responses to our life experiences, emotional reactions and behavior in relationships, work, and how we manage our lives.

We project onto God the qualities of those who deeply influence us, especially the qualities of our childhood caregivers. As we get older, we add to our images of God based on our experiences with teachers, authority figures, and clergy. Public figures, including movie stars, musicians, and other artists, political and sports figures, can shape our God pictures. 

Unconscious images of God become powerful forces in our inner terrain, shaping our capacity to trust. Notice that “made in the image of” means that how we perceive God affects how we perceive ourselves. As in the above example, if I hold an unconscious belief in God as an angry parent, who am I? I will probably see myself as a child in need of punishment or as a child who needs to escape from an abusive father (or mother). Our unconscious images of God and self underlie our tendencies to judge ourselves and others harshly or more easily trust in the goodness of self, God, and the world.

Ann Ulanov was a beloved teacher and theologian who created the Department of Psychiatry and Religion at Union Seminary in New York City. This was one of the first that brought together depth psychology and Christianity. Her book, Picturing God, is a collection of essays that masterfully explore the dynamics of images of God and self. This is important and often neglected terrain. She writes: “All of our most intimate and most important experiences with our own human depths, with other people, and with the living Spirit, are imbued with mixtures of consciousness and the unconscious…” (Ann Belford Ulanov, Picturing God, Cowley Publications, 1986, page 11)

Because our images of God and self are so intertwined, and often unconscious, it is valuable to spend some time reflecting on our lives and discover the array of images that we hold of God and ourselves. There is no one right way to do this work. Sometimes the process triggers old wounds. If this happens, seek help from a therapist spiritual director (clergy or lay), therapist, or close friend. The key is to meet with someone with whom you can have an honest conversation about faith and the dynamics of your inner experience. 

The process of exploring images of God and self helps us discover truth from illusion. As we examine our unconscious beliefs, we discover what is really driving our faith, like finding the “levers” of our faith. We learn to distinguish what we truly believe from what we say we believe; what we have been told to believe. This can be deeply healing. In engaging this process of examination, our faith becomes more alive, vibrant, and authentic. This is holy work. 

“I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful. You are already clean because of the word I have spoken to you. Remain in me, and I will remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me.” (John 15: 1-4)

REFLECTION EXERCISE:  IMAGES OF GOD AND SELF

This exercise brings to awareness how some of your images of God and self have formed. This can be a powerful exercise and may evoke deep emotional reactions. If at any point you feel overwhelmed, stop. Take time to re-ground and nourish yourself with some healthful activity, like reading a fun book, taking a walk, spending time with a friend, meditating with scripture, etc. If you feel ready, come back to the exercise. If not, let it go for now.

Set aside 30-45 minutes for this exercise when no one will disturb you. You will need paper and pen. You may choose to use a spiral notebook.

1. Begin with prayer. Ask for God’s guidance as you reflect on your life experiences.

2. Make a list of your significant caregivers (parents and/or others) from your early childhood (birth through 12 years old). Remember: we form our deepest (often unconscious) images of God from our experiences with early caregivers, which we project onto God. Often, these images are unconscious. 

3. Select 2 or 3 people from your list. If comfortable, include at least one of your parents.  

4. For each person, make a list of his/her qualities that stand you most remember. Include both positive and negative qualities. For example, positive qualities might include loving, tender, helpful, hard-working, playful. Negative qualities might include angry, mean, demeaning, shaming, critical.  

5. For each quality, ask yourself: “As a child, how did I feel when I experienced this quality in my caregiver?” For example, if my mother was a loving, soft-spoken person, I probably enjoyed being with her and felt safe. If she erupted in anger when I least expected it, I probably felt frightened and assumed I did something wrong. 

6. Reflect on how you may have projected some of these qualities onto God. These become your personal images of God. How do these images agree or conflict with your conscious belief about God and yourself? Are there times when you respond to God as you responded to your caregivers as a child? What beliefs about God and yourself do you want to cultivate? To let go? Write about this experience on paper or in a notebook or journal.  

7. Close with a prayer of thanksgiving, asking for healing in any areas of suffering that you may experience. 

Please share your responses to this post in the comments section. If you explored the reflection exercise, how did it go? 

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THE DIVINE INDWELLING

“Deep within us all there is an amazing inner sanctuary, … a holy place, a Divine Center, a speaking Voice… calling us home unto Itself.” (Thomas R. Kelly, A Testament of Devotion, HarperCollins Publishers, 1996, p. 3)

Thomas Kelly’s words remind us that God is within, inside our breath, calling us home. Christianity calls this inner presence the “indwelling of God.” The essence of the Christian journey is coming to know this inner presence. As we awaken to God who dwells within, we discover we are made of Love, and Love changes our lives forever.

Why is this journey so powerful?

Most Christian teaching emphasizes that God is everywhere, all around us, but stops short of teaching “God within.” Instead, followers hear a heavy dose of “you are sinful”, “praise God”, and “work hard to be better.” Such is the Christian program for “right living” and making God happy.

Awakening to the indwelling God is a different program. We discover our essential goodness, that God’s love is the fabric of our bodies and our lives. The journey toward the indwelling God is learning to see through God’s eyes. We come to know God’s deep caring for us, to experience His vision that sees us as precious. 

We see others as we are seen. God sees us as precious, we will see others as precious. This happens because we humans are social animals, we do not live in isolation. Rather, our relationships with one another shape us emotionally and physically. Neuroscience calls this process “attunement.” Attunement is a physiological process, an energetic resonance between people, that creates a sense of safety. We are like human tuning forks.

Attunement happens between mothers (and other caregivers) and their babies. Meeting a baby’s needs for touch and connection, as well as for food and clothing, allows the baby to be content and sleep peacefully. But when an infant is in distress, as any parent knows, the baby screams for attention. For the baby, screaming is the only way to communicate that his/her needs are not being met. In these moments, the baby feels in danger. This is a bio-physical process that moves through the whole nervous system. In effect, the whole body is screaming. When we meet the baby’s needs, we replace the threat of danger with a sense of safety, and the baby calms down.

As adults, we too need a sense of safety in our relationships. Relational safety is enormously important for human thriving, in adults, as well as infants and children. Neuroscientist Stephen Porges writes: 

“When we feel safe…, our nervous systems and entire bodies undergo a massive physiological shift that primes us to be healthier, happier, and smarter; to be better learners and problem solvers; to have more fun; to heal faster; and generally to feel more alive…. When we feel safe, we are capable of generosity, empathy, altruism, growth, and compassion… But when we don’t feel safe, our capacity for trust is diminished. Our ability to live, learn, and think critically evaporates in favor of an immediate need for survival.” (Our Polyvagal World: How Safety and Trauma Change Us by Stephen W. Porges and Seth Porges, Norton & Company, 2023, pages viii, xviii-xix.)

Christianity proclaims that our relationship with God is primary, our ultimate relationship of safety. God attunes to each of us, creating an inner zone of safety that is available to each of us. Our spiritual journey is growing in awareness of God’s attunement and our capacity to attune to God. The indwelling of God is Christianity’s language for naming this inner attunement, in scripture called “the refuge of God.” Psalm 57:1 puts it this way: “…in the shadow of your wings I will take refuge, till the storms of destruction pass by.”

Mary, the mother of God, plays a central role in the Christian story. This mother child relationship expresses the essential love (at its best) between mother and child. Mary’s presence is a profound echo of God’s indwelling presence, rooted in love. When we experience the indwelling God, we enter a relationship of love that seeps into every nook and corner of our being.

The great promise of Christianity is that the indwelling presence of God is available to all. My frustration with much Christian teaching and practice is its focus solely on the presence of God “out there”, with little attention to God who is “in here”. When we connect to God “in here,” everything changes.  

Readers of this blog know that I actively pursue forms of Buddhist meditation. For me, Buddhist meditation is, for me, a stepping stone to the experience of the indwelling Presence of God. Buddhist practice emphasizes naming and caring for our inner experience with kindness. Our inner experience — what scripture calls “the heart” — includes feelings, dreams, longings, needs, and desires. Becoming more intimate with my inner experience helps me see myself through God’s eyes, the eyes of unconditional love. 

Knowing the indwelling presence of God grounds us in love. As we see ourselves through God’s eyes, we see others in the same way. We become more loving. This enables us to live into what Jesus proclaimed as the most essential command: “Love each other as I have loved you….” (John 15:12)

We define a church community through the shared experience of liturgy, scripture, and prayer. Exploring the indwelling God through liturgy, scripture, and prayer transforms us. Faith becomes vibrant. We awaken, or re-awaken, to the aliveness of life. Thomas Keating: “Each level of life from the most physical to the most spiritual is sustained by the divine presence… The fundamental theological principle of the spiritual journey is the divine indwelling…” (Thomas Keating, et al., The Divine Indwelling, Lantern Books, NY, 2001, p.3)

We transform Christianity as we awaken to the power and beauty of God’s unconditional love for us all. 

May we grow in our love for one another as we grow in our awareness of God’s love for us.  

QUESTIONS FOR REFLECTION

How do you see yourself through God’s eyes? Who do you see? How has your vision of how God sees you changed over the years? 

What hinders you from connecting with the indwelling presence of God? What helps you connect with the indwelling presence of God?

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