Orthodox Lay Contemplative

Fighting Freedom

2007-03-26T06:55:00.000-07:00

We took Summer, our new lab puppy, on our walk with Lady Gator this morning. Lady has learned not to resist putting on her leash or taking it off. Summer hasn't quite got that down just yet. When we enter our yard, we let them off their leashes to run around. Summer kept pulling away, and pulling away from me. I tried to bring her close enough to set her free and unhook her leash, but she wanted no part of that. She resisted, perfectly fine with continuing to fight the leash. I tried explaining it to her to no avail. Finally I got her next to me and let her go. Off she went to play in the woods, untethered to care!

But who am I to criticize Summer? Certainly I am no better. Do I let God draw me near to set me free? Do I allow his control of my life, guiding me and leading me to safety and peace? Do I really want to be free, with his direction, or am I satisfied with fighting my freedom, content with an adversarial relationship when all the time it could be one of love?

Defining our lives

2006-12-04T18:38:00.000-08:00

Saturday I ran my first full marathon in over 2 1/2 years. This was no regular road marathon; it was the Tecumsah Trail marathon in the hills of Southern Indiana. Over 3500 feet of uphill, 3800 feet downhill, plus tons of mud from the recent drenching rains (the course had to be rerouted partly because of flooding), lots of roots and rocks hidden by fallen leaves, and quite a few creeks to slosh through.

Two days later my legs are still hurting. This was without a doubt the most physically taxing and painful marathon I've done. My extremely slow time, even for me, is indicative: it took over 7 hours for me to finish! Yet there is something else noteworthy about this run for me. Somewhere in the middle, when I was really slowing down from slow already and feeling the pain, I realized how much I was enjoying it. Not the pain, but the beauty of running, or this run, this hills, the vistas, the gorgeous scenery, the cool (twenty something degrees) air, the bright December sun, the quiet solitude, the silence of nada listening to a few creatures in the woods, my breathing, the stillness of my center, the simplicity of life at it's most fundamental level. For some reason, when I'm usually panicking and thinking how much I regret signing up for another painful marathon, I decided to ignore the pain and focus only on the enjoyment of the present moment.

I realized going into this one it would be hard, in fact I only planned on running a half or maybe 15-20 miles. So I really did go slow from the start, even for me. I walked a lot. I stopped a few times to listen to the sound of the woods. I even sat down at one point on a fallen tree and ate a box of raisins. For the last 4 hours, I think I looked at my watch maybe once. I didn't care about the time. While I would love to have finished, I knew it might not happen, so I didn't stress over it. I simply decided I would run/walk/hike/slog through this marathon my way.

And that's what I'm learning this year, to define life in my terms. Coming back as a broker to the company that laid me off after being in mid management appears to many as a backwards career move. I don't care, I am loving it so far. Changing churches twice in a year seems odd to many, but not to me, I had to follow my heart. Adopting three special needs children has brought raised eyebrows to many around us for 15 years, big deal. Who am I? I am a father, a husband, a broker, an Orthodox Christian, a pray-er, a friend, a runner, a hiker, a Hoosier, a tree hugging environmentalist, a middle aged Caucasian, and whatever else can come to mind.

And I am none of these, because what I really am is who I am, not what I do, what I wear, what I think, but what I "be." I've spent too much of my life trying to figure out what I am instead of being who I am.

Can I rightly be called a marathoner since I stop to eat raisins on a tree stump and listen to birds when I'm already walking and 2 hours behind the leader? I don't know. You run your race, and I'll be who I am in mine.

Detachment and Laymen

2006-10-03T16:43:00.000-07:00

The idea of detachment is fairly prevalent in Orthodox practice. St. John of the Ladder speaks of it in depth. I understand it's popular in the Philokalia, although I haven't read that yet. And it's found in other monastic writings. But what does detachment mean for a layman? For that matter, what place does contemplation have for a layman? That is the question I've been pursuing for some time.

It seems to me many times when I read or hear about detachment, there's a kind of disclaimer that it's mainly for monastics. We laypeople are in the world, so our level of detachment might not be that significant. I guess I would agree with that to a point. Obviously I've made a commitment to my wife and family, so I must fulfill that. But I still think there's a lot of room for detachment.

Another argument I've heard is we should be detached in our heart. Kind of like as long as we say we're detached, it's okay to live otherwise.

I don't have an answer for this yet. In fact, it will probably be a lifetime working it out. Being laid off for 6 months this year really brought this idea of detachment home. I had to face every day feeling like a loser: I had no job, I didn't respect myself, I doubt there was much respect out there for me anyway. I thought back to other losses in my life: our first daughter being stillborn, and my father and mother dying 8 years ago. Many days I feel like a failure as a husband and father. I'm embarrassed over leaving the Orthodox church a year ago, though we've since returned.

Through all of this, there is a temptation to despair. Or I could try and deceive myself with positive thinking, and just tell myself everything is great. For me, there's a middle way: detachment. For the sake of argument, let's say I may be a failure. But go one step further: what does it really matter? Where is my focus? On my self esteem, or how I think others perceive me? What if I did fail at every single thing I attempt in life? That doesn't, or shouldn't, change my relationship with God. I should continue to devote myself to prayer. In fact, failure has probably been better at bringing me to my knees than success would.

A man went to see one of the desert fathers for a word. Abba told him go to the cemetery, and curse those buried there. The man went and spent hours cursing the dead, throwing rocks at their graves, and insulting them. Upon his return, the Abba instructed him to go back to the cemetery and praise the dead. The man went there, praising the dead for being great saints, and for their accomplishments. He lathered them with his blessing. When he returned to the Father, Abba asked him "What did they do when you cursed them?" The man replied "nothing, they laid in their tombs in silence." Abba asked him "what did they do when you blessed them?" "Nothing, they remained silent." Abba said: go and do likewise.

That is detachment.

Getting into position

2006-09-05T04:50:00.000-07:00

Last night I couldn't sleep, so Lady Gator and I went outside for a little bit around 2:oo A.M. Looks like there was a full moon. One of the downsides of living in woods is, you can't really see the sky 6 months of the year. So I kept walking around, the back, the sides, the front, trying to get a clear shot of the moon. It was pretty much in vain. Until I turned around to go back in. Then I noticed a few parts of the front yard where there was light streaming through.

Not being a rocket scientist but having some intelligence, I walked over to where the moonlight was, lined up my shadow in it, and turned back toward the sky. Voila! There's the moon, brightly piercing through branches and shining all over me.

That is what contemplative practice is all about. I can't create the presence of God in my life. I can't manufacture a contemplative moment. I can't force the Holy Spirit to show up at will. But I can get myself into position where the likelihood of those things happening is greater. I can increase my availabilty, my vulnerability, my receptivity to God if I'm in a right position spiritually when I:

am present at Divine Liturgy, especially mindful during the anaphora and epiklesis.
arise early to give 20 or 30 minutes to God in silent prayer.
make full use of my prayer rope and the Jesus prayer often.
be mindful to the present moment throughout the day.
take time for spiritual disciplines: walking meditation, centering prayer, Psalms, liturgy.

Siesta Key is one of my favorite places on the planet. Nothing is like a beautiful sunset out on the white sandy beaches, with a bright orange sun setting into the green/blue water. When in Sarasota, if I'm watching tv, or reading a book, or sitting in the house, I'll miss it. Being at Point of Rocks at the right time doesn't guarantee a wonderful sunset, but does highly increase my chances of catching it if there is one. Like the title of a good little book I'm reading, "Wherever you go, there you are." It's up to me to make sure that I am in the present moment when the sun sets, when the full moon shines, and when God awakens me to His presence.

The Inconceivable God

2006-08-29T14:50:00.000-07:00

God: ineffable, inconceivable, invisible, incomprehensible. These words are from the Divine Liturgy of John Chrysostom. I've been thinking for a week about that word inconceivable. It's kind of an oxymoron isn't it? To say something is "inconceivable", is to say it can't exist. But to name it, is to acknowledge it's existence. So does inconceivable mean cannot possibly exist, a kind of nothingness? Or is it just so far beyond our comprehension we can't conceive of it? Like God. Except that we do conceive of the idea of God, though He is so transcendant we can't conceive of him.

I'm confusing myself here.

Which leads me to another fascinating contemplation: the nada of God. One thing that draws me so much to Orthodoxy, and Eastern thought in general, is the idea of an apophatic way. In the west, we try to define everything, intellecualize it, outline it and describe it in detail. Even God. But remember, He's inconceivable. He's beyond knowing. He is unknowing. To know Him is to unknown what we think we know of Him. To learn his way is to unlearn.

Gotta read Gregory of Nyssa sometime, or Pseudo-Dionysius, sounds like great stuff.

Wait

2005-08-27T21:17:00.000-07:00

"Wait" is a popular word in the book of Psalms. "I waited patiently for the Lord" 40:1. "But for thee O Lord do I wait; it is thou who wilt answer me" 38: 15. "And now Lord, for what do I wait? My hope is in you" 39:7. "Be still before the Lord and wait silently for Him" 37:7. "Truly my soul waits silently for God" 62:1.

I am not an expert in the Hebrew language, so I can't say for sure exactly what "wait" means. But I bet it's more than how we wait for a bus, or wait for this dentist visit to get over with. I think it's all that and more. It can be patient endurance, or active service. It may be focused attention. And I think it speaks to our desire, our active anticipation in what will surely come to pass.

What exactly are we waiting on? One would be the coming of Christ in his glory. Maranantha, Come O Lord! We wait for the kingdom of God to come; not only in that second coming of Christ but now as we bring peace, love and beauty to alleviate the suffering of others. We wait for Christ to be present to us each week in the Eucharist.

And while Christ is already present to us in many ways, we wait for the fulfillment of his union in us. As we abide in his presence, as we are mindful of his presence, we still wait for future iterations of his "being" with us.

Three choices

2005-07-24T14:26:00.000-07:00

Seems to me that there are basically three choices in life. One, is to choose our own way and follow our own will. Two would be to accept God's will for our life, but do so grudgingly. And three, would be to accept God's will for our life, and do it with gratitude.

Every moment gives us the opportunity to make our choice. Life is made up of countless Monty Hall "Let's make a deal!' choices. Door A, Door B, or Door C. Like the old game show, we sometimes choose the door with the car, but it turns out to be a broken down Ford Pinto. And we passed on the door with the horse and buggy, only to find the buggy included a $10,000 check.

I heard a presentation yesterday by a monk from New Mellerey Abbey in Iowa. He was talking about obedience in the Benedictine tradition. Since he was speaking to laypeople, rather than focus on obedience to an Abbot, he talked about how we face choosing God's will in every moment of our lives. And in that present moment, we have the choice of obeying and choosing God's will or not.

For me, I think there are the three choices I mentioned. I say that because for 45 years I've become an expert in hedging my bet and choosing choice two. When it comes right down to it, I'll do what God says, but I don't always do it with a smile. I hold onto my receipt so that when things don't work out (just like I knew all along) I can go back to God for a refund. And maybe remind him I told him if I take that cross they are going to nail me to it. But then, that's the point. It's not about how I think things should turn out. It's about doing them, with gratitude, and embracing the cross I'm called to bear.

We are having a really hard time the last month with our 15 year old bipolar son. Summers are always a challenge. He has been very rebellious and rude, and has the household on eggshells wondering if or when we'll get the violent outburst and have to call the police. Another of our adopted children, now 18, has made the Marion County jail his home for the last 8 months and probably a few more.

What if I could have a conversation with God and make my choice again? What if he told me it's his will to open my home up to the fatherless and needy, but he would let me go back to 1989 and recant if I really wanted. What would I do? Door number 1, take the easy way and raise my two biological children and live how I want. Door number 2 (the one I've chosen), live in an inner city for several years, adopt 3 children in need of care, but complain bitterly to God about my lot every chance I get. Or door number 3, do what Christ did. Pick up my cross and obey, not with a stiff neck, but because I love God and trust Him. What a novel thought.

I think I'm going to see if I can change my choice. Because I'm learning choice number two really isn't an option. If it were, my life would be miserable and I'd be as annoying to God as fire ants at a summer picnic. And really, choice number three is where I will find peace. Unbelievable as it may seem to me at times, only when I learn obedience and gratitude will I be truly me, and truly happy.

Intentions

2005-07-17T08:18:00.000-07:00

"Lord, all my longing is before you. My sighing is not hidden from you." Ps 38:9

Passion has become a buzzword in big business. When you really need to pull out all the stops and impress someone with how much you mean business, you drop the passion bomb. "I really have a lot of passion around this initiative." "We need to be passionate about our clients." As with other buzzwords, the key is placement and not to overuse them. Of course, that doesn't stop many folks. On any one conference call I've heard professionals with passions from customer care to peanuts.

What is the idea behind the real meaning of passion? Maybe it's longing; what we truly long for. In the verse above, other translations use desire. All these give me the same kind of idea. But unlike our businessperson example, when it comes down to it, we all have one overriding desire that directs our life. Maybe it's money; maybe it's romantic love; maybe it's our kids and family. Or maybe, once we clean away all the dross, somewhere deep inside we have a longing for God.

I love returning to the example of King David. He was a big sinner. He wasn't known for his theology or doctrine. But he was a man after God's own heart. He fulfilled, and wrote, the most powerful lines in spirituality in my mind. "The Lord is near to those who have a broken heart, and saves such as have a contrite spirit." Ps 34:18. "The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart O God you will not despise." Ps 51:17 David was, above all things, humble before God. He was a murderer, an adulterer, and I'm sure we're missing other sins. But when it got down to it, he loved God with everything. When he was confronted with his sin, he repented. And not with a false pretensious humility of a Pharisee, but with the humility of one "broken" of his own will.

Pick that word that resonates with you. Passion. Desire. Longing. Humility. What is it about me that strikes my passion? What is it in my life that when I wake up, I can't wait to see, to do, to pursue? When I have 3 minutes between appointments, between thoughts, in the middle of the day to stop and reflect, what is it that I fill my mind with? Whatever it is, God knows. "All my longing is before you."

I wish I could honestly say in this post, like David, all my longing is for you God. Unfortunately, that may be disingenuous. But not to despair, heart of mine, for there still remains my intentions. And I can honestly say, I want to love God with all my being. I want to create a longing in me for Him that surpasses my other passions. I want to desire the kingdom of God to come in my life more than anything. More than sinful desires, and even more than the good gifts He grants to me, I want a relationship with God. And so I hope in another verse from David. "Delight yourself in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart." Ps 37:4.

Lord, grant me the desires of my heart. Not the earthly ones that are already there; not the ones I have created in my own image. But give me a desire for you. Would that I may long for you, and allow your Son to form His image in my life. Holy God, Holy Mighty, Holy Immortal, allow that my intentions would be more for you, and less of anything else short of your Glory.

The stain of sin

2005-07-07T17:44:00.000-07:00

It's 5:00 a.m., and I let our lab Lady Gator out to do her business first thing as the day awakens. I wander around our back yard, when here she comes out from the woods with her head down, ears low, walking slowly towards me with that "hey, don't be mad at me, I'm a dumb dog" look. Sure enough, when she gets within about 10 yards I "sense" the problem, pardon the pun. She must have found a nice big pile of deer poop to roll around in and now she smells like, well, you know.

To the garden hose, and giving her a bath from the freezing cold water first thing to start my day. She is not happy about the bath. I am not happy about any of this. Especially since we just went through this last week. When is she going to learn to stay out of the poop? I grow more and more angry and frustrated until the analogies of the spiritual life start to kick in. You can probably guess. How often do I show up on God's doorstep, smelling like, you know, covered in filth for the umpteenth time? How many times does He have to take me out back, pour cold water all over my life and dreams to cleanse me, when all the time I think He's just being mean? When am I going to get that if I roll around in sin, I can say I'm sorry all I want but there's still a cold bath waiting for me?

I love my evangelical roots, I really do. The emphasis on how the grace of God is all encompassing and all we need for eternal salvation is so true. But sometimes I think we forget our part in it all. Us Eastern Orthodox and Roman Catholics get pinged sometimes for emphasizing works too often. But there is a place for repentance. Yes we are forgiven, but forgiveness doesn't necessarily make me smell better. Only with the soap and suds of a life of repentance and humility do I get to work out the stains.

This tension between grace and works isn't one of these where we compromise the teaching of each. There isn't a middle ground where we water down both sides. It is true that only the grace of God through the love and sacrifice of Christ can save us. And it is also completely true that only through work, hard work cooperating with God's Spirit, can I get my life clean. Sanctification isn't microwavable, or 3 dollars at Starbucks. Baptism, the sinners' prayer, the sacraments, that's all the start of a process, not the finish. I think it was Melanchthon who said "we are saved by grace alone, but that grace is not alone."

A college student gets drunk and kills someone in a driving accident. He may be forgiven, but the stain is forever. A woman leaves her husband to run away with her neighbor. She may be forgiven some day, but the pain in the family will linger. I, Athanasios, criticize and hurt someone's feelings. I show lack of concern for the poor and suffering every single day as I go about my business. I...well the list goes on. I ask for forgiveness, knowing it is assured through my Savior's work. But I still head to the back yard to do my work of spiritual disciplines. Not as punishment, not to atone for my sin, but to "work out my salvation in fear and trembling." To attain purity of heart. To not mock my Saviors sacrifice by treating it as cheap, but to accept and appropriate it lovingly.

Urgency and desperation

2005-07-05T19:32:00.000-07:00

Driving back from Chicago late one night last week, I was channel surfing the radio to stay alert. I heard a preacher giving a sermon about prayer and the spiritual life. The point he was making was that we need have a sense of desperation in our lives. For the kingdom of God to come, we need to realize the desperate situation the world is in, and act accordingly.

I think I understand and could relate somewhat to his point, but his choice of words I would not at all agree with. Maybe it's just semantics, but there is a deeper issue here I believe. No doubt, Christians need to be about the business of the kingdom of God. For too many, Christianity is fire insurance, or a part of life, or a way to feel good about themselves. Orthodox Christianity, even with a small o, is none of the above.

It is true that our spiritual lives should and must be the focus of our being. We do need to focus on prayer, giving, serving and living lives of love. Christianity is a way of life, not a religion. It is a relationship, but more than just any relationship, it is the encompassing relationship. And yes, this way of life should result in a sense of urgency, but not desperation. There is no reason to be desperate. God's kingdom of peace and love will prevail in the end.

A. W. Tozer wrote a wonderful book called "The Knowledge of the Holy" about the attributes of God. In discussing the self sufficiency of God, he makes an interesting point. Too often Christians think God needs our help; that he is struggling to make ends meet and it is up to us to rescue him by diligently serving Him. Nothing is further from the truth. Yet understanding the truth of the attributes of God should motivate us to participate in the struggle of life. Not because we are desperate, but because of the power availed to us.

A sense of urgency is what we need. It isn't time to build fiefdoms and argue over points of doctrine. To quote a desert father, "a man condemned to die isn't worried about what is happening in the theatre." Thousands, no millions, are dying each year due to poverty, war, oppression, and disease. The suffering on this planet, if we open our eyes to it, is almost incomprehensible. And it is stunning to realize how much of this suffering is caused by man's inhumanity to man.

We are all called to the struggle of the Kingdom of God. We are called to love, to give, to share, to empty (kenosis) our selves to others as Christ did. And we are called to pray. To unite ourselves to the Almighty through words, through contemplation, through bringing his love to us and those around us. In this mystical union, peace comes not only to our souls but to all.

Yes, we need this sense of urgency. But let us not pretend the battle for life is only ours. It will take all our effort, but the final completion of the kingdom of God bringing love to all is inevitable. This thought should empower us, not deter us.

The Politics of Prayer

2005-06-24T19:30:00.000-07:00

The very title of this post is sad. I would say there is no place for politics in prayer, but apparently that may not be true for all. With our bi-polar political climate today, unfortunately even prayer, or alleged prayer, can become a battleground.

Recent case in point. A raging debate is taking place here in Indiana after the ICLU sued the state to stop sectarian prayers to open the Indiana House. Evangelical ministers have not only been praying in the name of Jesus, they have gone so far as to lead gospel songs while doing so. This has led to members of the congress leaving the chambers until the opening prayer is finished. Conservatives point out that rabbi's and Muslim clerics have also led the prayer (on 2 or 3 occasions.)

One side says the prayer should be inclusive and acceptable to all present. The other decries this as censorship and imposing on freedom of religion. I think we need to step back and understand what prayer fundamentally is. In my understanding, it is my personal relationship and communication with God. Or in a group setting, the groups common, united petition addressing God.

I don't think there is any danger of this happening, but if ever I was called to lead the opening prayer of the Indiana House I would have to decline. For one, I could not water down my faith in the name of inclusiveness. I think inclusion and diversity are vital to our society, but that doesn't mean we all meet at the lowest common denominator. It means I am who I am, and you are who you are. I respect your faith and don't attempt to change you, as I hope you offer me the same courtesy. Secondly, I would not pretend to pray when what I actually am being asked to do is make a speech. Is the opening prayer really addressed to God? Then let everyone who feels so inclined to pray in their heart, in their words, to the deity of their choice.

Alas, this isn't the first, nor will it probably be the last of this battlefield. We continue to debate prayer in schools, prayers at football games and graduations, prayers at the flagpole, and everywhere else we can fight for our prayers. What happened to giving Caesar what belongs to Caesar, and to God what belongs to God? What happened to "when you pray, go into your room, close the door, and pray to your Father who is unseen. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret will reward you."

If you are easily offended by names of specific references to God, please stop reading. "Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on us all."

There. This is my blog; I'll pray as I see fit. And I promise not to pray at your blog.

Our lives, our powerful Pentecost

2005-06-18T10:28:00.000-07:00

This Sunday is Pentecost on the Orthodox liturgical calendar. Pentecost will always have special meaning for me, in many ways. It is the celebration of the gift of the Holy Spirit, when the Holy Spirit descended on the apostles and empowered them to live in faith and strength. Since the beginning of the 20th century, there has been a Pentecostal or Charismatic movement which seeks to relive these outward displays or gifts of the Holy Spirit.

When I was around 19, I began attending a charismatic type home fellowship. That grew into a non denominational charismatic church, and eventually I began attending an Assemblies of God church. I obtained my BA from Southeastern College of the Assemblies of God. Looking back, it wasn't the speaking in tongues and emotional outbursts that attracted me to these groups. I think it was more the freedom and the emphasis on a real spiritual life. Growing up Presbyterian, I was ready for a change that has some energy and enthusiasm. Pentecostal and Charismatic groups provided that.

The biggest reason the celebration of Pentecost means so much to me, is that 10 years ago this weekend I was chrismated into the Orthodox church. My 5 children were all baptized and chrismated also, and a few month later my wife was received into the Orthodox faith. It wasn't planned to be that way, but how ironic that a former Assemblies of God Evangelical would be received into Orthodoxy on Pentecost Sunday.

Two years ago, I celebrated Pentecost on Kodiak Island in Alaska, at the Cathedral where the relics of St. Herman of Alaska remain. I was there on a missions trip to St. Hermans seminary. I don't think I'll ever forget the 2 hour vigil for the feast, realizing I'm standing in the same place where one of the greatest missionaries ever ministered. St. Herman travelled thousands of miles with a few other young monks to bring Orthodoxy to the native Americans. Instead of siding with the Russian fur traders who brought them over and thought they would help tame the natives, Herman and his peers actually sided with the natives against the oppresion they were facing. I'm sure this act of justice and kindness spoke more to them than all the words the missionaries delivered. For this, he was exiled to an island, and to this day the heritage of Orthodox Alaska remains. His relics and the huge, weighty cross he wore hidden under his cassock were in view. It was a powerful Pentecost indeed.

Pentecost however is not just a remembrance of past history. Merton puts it this way: "Man, the microcosm, the heart of the universe, is the one who is called to bring about the fusion of the cosmic and historic process in the final invocation of God's wisdom and love. In the name of Christ and by his power, man has a work to accomplish-to offer the cosmos to the Father, by the power of the Spirit, in the glory of the Word. Our life is a powerful Pentecost in which the Holy Spirit, ever active in us, seeks to reach through our inspired hands and tongues into the very heart of the material world ."

What an awesome, powerful thought. What purpose that brings to our lives. Whether we are called to be missionaries as St. Herman, to live a life of social justice, to give, to love, to pray, or to simple obscurity, our lives can be a powerful demonstration and means of bringing life to the world.

One word, one thought, one thing needful

2005-06-16T17:06:00.000-07:00

God.

Paradox of prayer

2005-06-12T16:32:00.000-07:00

To live a life of prayer and contemplation, is to live a life of utter despair, yet at the same time, ultimate joy. It is a life of complete paradox, as opposite ends of a spectrum continually beckon one to and fro. Really, it is patently ridiculous to consider to pray. Consider it: if there is such a person such as God, so powerful, all-knowing, completely beyond any of our comprehension whose ways are so far above us, how could we begin to communicate with Him?

Prayer, as I am told by a Franciscan I know, is a relationship. I must resort to only quoting him about prayer since today is one of those days I don't think I've yet even begun to pray. I'd like to believe it exists, and if I stay persistent in this seeking it, the ludicrous concept that I could commune with an all-mighty, awesome God will probably return to me.

Prayer is not only a relationship with God, it is God. In true prayer, we become one with God. Athanasios the Great had the famous saying "God became man, so that man might become God." Jesus himself prayed "The glory that you have given me I have given them, so that they may be one, as we are one. I in them, and you in me." Jn 17:22

Prayer to me, to borrow slightly from Teresa of Avila, is like a large majestic castle with many rooms. Soon as I become familiar with one room, and think I have found home, I find a door that leads to yet another long hallway, leading to many other rooms that I have yet to explore, or even knew existed. Some days I think I pray. I talk to God, maybe I'm really talking at God. Some times I think I'm listening, and hearing God's word of love and life in his kingdom. Some times, though never for more than a fleeting instant, I think I may have experienced "the faint, unperceived beginnings of passive contemplation" as Merton calls it.

And some days, like today, I wonder if prayer is beyond me. Not only myself, but any sane rational human. I think I'm praying nothing. I think I'm accomplishing nothing. Again to quote Merton, "there is no such thing as a prayer in which nothing is done, or nothing happens, although there may well be a prayer in which nothing is perceived or felt or thought." Comforting words to a novice like myself.

And while I'm quoting from Mertons "Thoughts in Solitude", it is his fault for causing all this pondering anyway. How could one make sense of a statement like this: "the only thing to seek in contemplative prayer is God; and we seek him successfully when we realize that we cannot find Him unless He shows Himself to us and yet at the same time He would not have inspired us to seek Him unless we had already found Him."

Such is the paradox of prayer. Such is the nature of God. It, or He, is entirely unattainable by human effort. I would be better off counting all the grains of sand on every beach on the planet than to think I can find God by trying. But as Yoda told Luke Skywalker, "do or do not, there is no try." So I meekly, yet confidently, return to pray. I pray with words. I pray at liturgy. I list my litanies. I think and say what is on my mind, to a Being who already knew what was coming. And like Elijah, I wait in sheer silence, for a still, small voice to return my call.

God in the second person

2005-05-31T21:10:00.000-07:00

Recently a Baptist minister in North Carolina got into some trouble for allegedly telling members who did not vote for George Bush to repent or move on (or words to that effect). Today I read that a Lutheran pastor in Denmark was reinstated to the pulpit after being suspended for announcing he did not believe in God.

Seems to me there are plenty of people who view God as "other" or transcendent, or even doubt his existence at all. When they mention God, he is completely third person, so far away, so distant. I'm not really thinking about agnostics, or those who sincerely struggle with faith. That's one thing. But to be a minister, a pastor, called to lead others and to declare God is not existent, I just don't get it. Wouldn't that faith, or lack thereof, lead one to a little bit different vocation?

And of course America is not exempt from it's share of fundamentalists who speak for God in the first person. When I lived in Orlando years back, I remember Pat Robertson saying God would punish us with a hurricane because Disney celebrated gay days and we had gay pride flags in the city. Who can forget Randall Terry? And of course Fred Phelps in Kansas, protesting at funerals of gays with signs declaring "God hates fags." They speak for God?

Seems to me there is a place somewhere for seeking God in the second person. Where one doesn't banish God to the purgatory of non existence and smugly claim to know in fact there is no God. Just how does one know that? Where we are not afraid to say we are related to God, instead of avoiding all mention of him like he's our embarrassing, drunken Uncle Sal.

Yet in this place we don't pretend we are God, or mold him into our own image. A place where we don't follow our polarizing passions and declare anyone with a different opinion to be ungodly.

Wouldn't it be grand to seek God for who he is, neither jumping to the conclusion that he is not (since of course we know all) nor jumping to whims that since I met him once I can speak for him. Wouldn't it be better if we take the time to listen, to listen for God even in the people we don't agree with? Hear what the doubters or agnostics say? Try to understand Taoists, Buddhists, Muslims, Jews, Democrats, Republicans, or those few that are in between.

"Lord, help me to not dismiss you and relegate you to a dusty bookshelf like an old high school yearbook. Help me not to only remember you like a distant memory of a love I once lost. Yet help me not to think we are so familiar, so close that I can wear your clothes and miserably attempt to walk in your shoes. Lord, help me to seek you, to sit with you, to share my pain and life, and most of all, to listen. And help me to listen to your voice and see your eyes in new places I never knew you could be."

Does it matter?

2005-05-30T08:01:00.000-07:00

This is the post that almost wasn't. The thoughts came to me this morning during meditation in my woods, but when time came to write I thought, "Aaah, what does it matter?" Seriously though, I have been thinking about life, things and what really matters over the last couple weeks.

Two things have got me thinking about this. First, I read a thought from Theophan the Recluse (by way of an anthology of "Merton and Hesychasm"). His idea is, everything we do and think, we must approach as secondary. There is only one thing that is primary, and that is unceasing prayer, or in the Orthodox tradition, the Jesus prayer. Our lives must be in perspective of that relationship. If we view everything as secondary to the main thing, it will go well with us. The second thing that brought this home to me, is my health. I'm only 45, but I feel like I'm 90 most days lately. My migraines are getting more frequent, and I'm taking medication for them a couple times a week. My digestive system problems are getting so out of control, I don't ever want to eat out anymore for fear of upsetting my stomach. My energy level continues to drop, so my running has followed into the drain. And lest I forget, I still take beta-blockers every day on the doctors theory that my enlarged aortic root may lead to an aortic dissection. Finally, I have an 18 year old son in jail waiting to be released soon we hope, and a 15 year old bipolar son that still has us on eggshells most of the time.

I feel spiritually bipolar myself on occasion. At any one moment, at liturgy, or in prayer, in solitude or silence, I seem to be at peace. Within seconds someone is having a crisis in the house, or I wake up to that dull pain in my neck loomer larger towards a migraine, or I'm running to the restroom. I guess some would think my health is stress related, and it may be. But I really don't "feel" stressed out. I think I have pretty good coping mechanisms in place. Number one of which has become, asking myself "does it matter?"

Of course, all these things in life matter. Family, friends, job, all of these are important. But I must bring myself back to that center and ask what really matters. And, as Theophan points out, God matters. This isn't some serenity prayer etched on a cheap cypress plaque, or the footprints story laminated on a bookmark. It's about really understanding how vitally important prayer is. Prayer is, in a big way, everything. Prayer is a relationship, it is the relationship. It is living in the awareness of the Almighty. It is being attuned to a reality beyond what I see, hear or feel. Prayer is my union with God, that will last beyond all circumstance, beyond all pain, and beyond all health or lack thereof.

Last Saturday I went to a seminar on Spirituality and the Psalms. One of the points made was from a book on the Psalms by a Protestant scholar. He made the case that the 5 books in the Psalms are not randomly arranged; there is a progression in them. To find the meaning of this progression, one must look at the "seams", the Psalms that end and start each of the 5 sections. Psalm 73 begins book 3. In this Psalm, the author reveals his feet had almost slipped, he nearly lost his foothold. This came about by his taking his eyes off reality, and placing them on the illusion of life in this world. There are those who always seem to be at ease, healthy, prosperous and succesful yet they are arrogant. In the end, the Psalmist realizes "whom have I in heaven but you? And earth has nothing I desire besides you."

So I remind myself day by day, moment by moment, of what really matters. I remind myself constantly and consistently in the Jesus prayer, that reality is knowing God. And while things in life may seem to be going completely against anything I can control, and entirely opposing peace and love, the ultimate reality that matters is that of God and myself.

Abba Alonius said "if a man does not say in his heart 'in the world there is only myself and God', he will not gain peace."

Passion and Stillness

2005-05-22T17:43:00.000-07:00

Reading a verse from Proverbs a couple weeks ago has me thinking about something. "A tranquil mind gives life to the flesh, but passion makes the bones rot." Prov 14:30 Passion could be another word for flesh that Paul uses often in the New Testament. Or as more modern versions translate: the sinful nature. The idea behind all these, is that in our human nature there is a desire for sin. Sin is basically separation from God. So the passions: pride, greed, lust, anger, slothfulness, gluttony, jealousy; war against what is in us to make us more Christlike.

What I've been thinking about is if the passions are the sinful expressions of our human nature, what is the opposite virtue to focus on? Passion is a strong desire, and in this sense, a desire for other than God. At first I thought the spirit is the opposite, but I'm not sure. Or possibly dispassion of course, but what exactly is that?

Then I remembered a term used often in monastic language, and even in the Psalms: stillness. "Be still before the Lord, and wait silently for Him." "Be still and know that I am God." Abba Arsenius had a rule for his life: Be still, be silent, be at peace.

So just what is stillness? To me, it is an inner silence, a silence of not only hearing, but all the senses, all the passions. Silence and solitude are not an end in themselves. They exist only to bring us to the point of stillness. It is there, when we are quiet both inwardly and outwardly, that we can hear that still small voice of God. Of course, I'm not referring to an audible voice. Or even loopy ideas that pop into our head from too much pizza late the night before. But simply the voice of God calling us closer to himself. A voice without words, without even thoughts, and more importantly (as most real mystics point out) beyond emotion or feeling.

Stillness, unfortunately for our modern age, cannot be bought or obtained easily. There is no 40 days of purpose to find it. There are no conferences and radio stations blaring it's virtue. There is only one way, the way Christ showed us. And that is by consistent time alone with God in prayer. Not armed with bibles, concordances, and books, but with the only thing we need: a contrite, humble heart that will patiently wait for Him.

Simeon and Anna from the New Testament were a part of a group known as "the quiet in the land." They patiently were waiting for the manifestation of the kingdom of God. Dutifully, they ministered, worshipped, and waited. I'm not sure how exactly they did it, but they must have obtained stillness. (Surely they didn't have all the worldy noise and distraction we have today). Finally, they were both rewarded with seeing the Kingdom of God come in their time.

What a model for us today. Are I willing to devote such time and energy to simply waiting on God in stillness?

Pathway to Purpose: Peace

2005-05-09T15:01:00.000-07:00

"These things I have spoken to you so that in me you may peace. In the world, you will have tribulation. But be of good cheer: I have overcome the world." John 16:33

I used to think two things about peace that I have come to realize were incorrect. The first, was that peace is a state without conflict, without trial, without pain or tribulation. Peace I thought was sitting in my woods alone with my thoughts, on a perfect day, in silence and solitude, without distraction. I now realize without tribulation, without conflict or trial, there can be no real peace. Peace is not the absence of conflict, it is an enduring quality of victory over conflict, of having the peace of God (the knowledge of his love and presence) with me in the midst of trial.

In this passage, Jesus refers to that very concept. He is about to go to his crucifixion. He will be tortured, abandoned, ridiculed, persecuted and finally killed. He is alluding to his disciples that their lives will not be without tribulation either. Real peace isn't avoiding this tribulation, it is overcoming it. Our physical muscles only grow stronger by opposition. In exercise, we challenge our bodies to resist. If we are successful, we grow stronger. To train for a marathon, one forces the body to run past the point of pain. So it is with our spirit. However in the spiritual realm, we don't fight back in the same way. We rest in the peace that Christ gives us: the peace of the awareness of his presence.

My second misconception was that peace is a final destination. However I've learned this peace, while overcoming the world and all the trials and pain it can throw at us, is not a permanent state of being here on earth. We don't stop facing the pain, the tribulation, the dirty work that faces us as spiritual people. Jesus Christ, as the second person of the Godhead, emptied himself (kenosis) to live the incarnation among us so that we too can find real peace and life. Even in the Buddhist tradition, from what little I know about it, the goal of a bodhisattva (one who is enlightened) is to seek enlightenment not just for oneself, but for all.

Again as I journey towards finding purpose in life, and seeking a resting place, I come across another pathway. One that I must take and travel through, and one that I must take with me. Real peace is knowing God: it is mindfulness, being aware of his loving presence at all times. (Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace who's mind is stayed on thee, because he trusts in thee. Isaiah 26:3). It is not avoiding suffering, it is experiencing it and sharing it with the rest of humanity. It is not the absence of suffering, it is the realization that Christ overcame it, and through his power, so will I.

And so in my own life I seek to acquire inner peace, or allow it to acquire me. As I do, somehow peace will come to others.

7 things I'm grateful for

2005-05-08T15:31:00.000-07:00

God's word. Where would I be without it? "Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path...O how I love your word! I meditate on it all day long...Trouble and distress have come upon me,but your commands are my delight." Too much to list here, just read Psalm 119.

The Holy Spirit. "God is spirit, and those who worship him must worship in spirit and in truth." Jn 4:24. God's word is our truth, and we must be attuned to the spiritual life to fully realize what we have in Christ.

Faith. "For by grace you have been saved by faith." Thank God for allowing me the eyes to see, and the ears to hear his love and life.

Love. How deep and wide and immeasurable is God's love for me. Words cannot describe.

Life. "I have come that they might have life, and have it more abundantly." Jn 10:10

Peace. "Great peace have they who love thy law, and nothing can make them stumble." Ps 119 "And the peace of God, which passes all understanding, will guard our hearts and minds in Christ Jesus." Phil 4:7 "Thou will keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on thee, because he trusts in thee." Is 26:3.

Prayer. What a privilege that our awesome creator, Lord and savior, invites us moment by moment to be with Him!

Self and Purpose

2005-04-23T09:00:00.000-07:00

Each of us defines our self in our own unique way. If someone were to ask "who are you?", what would my answer be? I probably would list important facts: my name, where I work, tell about my family, where I live, and what I do. I could define myself along any of these lines. But would I get to the heart of the matter and talk about what really makes me tick? I doubt I would in a casual conversation, but maybe with someone I have an intimate relationship with.

I struggled with a title for this blog, and I still do. I want to describe what it's about, without being too pointed or long. I am an Eastern Orthodox Christian. I am a layman. And I write what is in my heart: thoughts about the contemplative life. I have somewhat an aversion to labels though. Can I really call myself a "contemplative"? Can anyone? By nature, contemplation is a gift, it cannot be created. It is like the wind that comes and goes as it pleases. The fact that at any one point in my life I experienced it, does not mean it will return.

Merton describes contemplation as "an immediate and in some sense passive intuition of the inmost reality, of our spiritual self and of God present within us." Yet he also says "a life of active contemplation prepares a man for occasional and unpredicted visits of infused or passive contemplation."

Much of how we define ourselves would be by our work. "I am a doctor." "I am a lawyer." "I work for the government." But what is our real work? As Christians, our calling and work is to bring the kingdom of God. The kingdom of God is our working to alleviate suffering by bringing peace, love, joy and beauty to a suffering world. My real work in life then, and possibly how I define myself, is by finding my purpose and place in bringing this kingdom of God to the world.

Some are called to be pastors, some missionaries, others teachers; some are called to encourage, to give, to lead. Many are called to serve. Many are called to be laypeople and to raise godly families that reflect the love of Christ.

While all are called to pray, I wonder if some are called to be pray-ers. Not "just" pray, or "only" pray, that would be an oxymoron. But to pray as their work; to intercede and support those who are busy with action; to wait for that contemplative moment so that they can vector that grace, peace and spirit to bringing the kingdom of God to the world.

Illusion, Reality and Desire.

2005-04-20T11:04:00.000-07:00

On my run this morning, one of my sentence prayers came to mind. "Lord, reveal to us the beauty of Your kingdom, and the knowledge of your unapproachable glory!" On a beautiful spring morning running in an Indiana forest, it seems to me the beauty of God is obvious. Psalm 19 declares how the glory of God is manifest in His creation. But for some, including myself most of the time, the reality of God's glory and beauty is obscure. Is that by design, that God wants to hide from us? Or is it due to our spiritual vision?

I think most of the time it is the latter. "God is the Lord and has revealed himself, blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord" is a refrain from the Psalms we hear at Matins. While God has revealed himself, it seems he doesn't intend to knock us over the head and make himself obvious. There has to be desire on our part to see Him. "Ask and you will receive. Seek and you will find. Knock and the door will be opened." While the revelation of God is completely spontaneous and at his will, for us to realize that vision requires preparation on our part. That preparation is with our spiritual eyes. We certainly can't see God face to face, but we can behold his presence in our hearts, our spirits.

Which brings me to the point of something I read in Merton's "The Inner Experience" this morning. "There are thousands of Christians walking about the face of the earth bearing in their bodies the infinite God of whom they know practically nothing...God does not manifest himself to these souls because they do not seek him with any real desire...They belong to illusion, to passion, to external things. They are content to occupy their minds with trivial things. But desire is the most important thing in the contemplative life."

Too often humans are focused on what we see, feel and perceive with our 5 senses. These things can be good, and can lead us to a knowledge of God's glory, but ultimately they are illusion. "While we look not at that which is seen, but at that which is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal." II Corinthians 4:18. God is real. His reality is beyond our comprehension. Yet he has chosen to reveal himself and his glory through our spirits. Once I understand that, and seek God in the right place, his glory can manifest itself to me. To perceive any concept of the Almighty, I must desire him with all my heart, and look with my spiritual eyes.

The purpose of Contemplation

2005-04-17T19:50:00.000-07:00

Thinking about how each of us has a purpose to life, I've been reflecting again on contemplation and action. The last few years, I have begun to withdraw more and more to my interior self. I've been pretty good at saying no, something I struggled with in times past. That's probably how I ended up with 5 children, 3 of them adopted foster kids. One of those is bipolar and had his first near violent outburst tonight in a while. Another is in jail facing sentencing this week for a felony. As pitiful as my life has been lately, I wonder if I shouldn't have focused on centering prayer and contemplation earlier in life.

But I've always been drawn to action also. It led me to minister to the homeless early on. Then to live for 7 years in a ghetto ministering to the urban poor. To teach Sunday school, serve in the altar, support missionaries or fight world hunger by supporting a third world child. I've always thought that is what Christianity is about: giving and doing.

Back to the last 3 years. I'm taking the time to practice centering prayer. I spend much time in the book of Psalms. I "waste" time in my woods, praying and thinking. I run for hours at a time on Saturday mornings. I attempt to pray the Jesus prayer as consistently as possible during the day. In all these things, I am not worried about giving or doing. Instead, I'm focused on "being." The contemplative life is one of being with God. Simply abiding in Him, not trying to "do" anything. And that's okay. While this may seem selfish or spiritually self-centered, it is not.

Contemplation is action. They are not two polar opposites. If one is truly in the presence of God, they will bring that presence to others, somehow, someway. For one to truly "do" anything in the name of Christ, they must first know him. I may have posted this quote from a book titled "Contemplation". It's worth repeating though. "Contemplation is God's supreme gift (charisma) which enables the soul to love him beyond all words and thoughts, beyond all specific acts, interior or exterior. It is remaining loving God, and all creation with him, with the love of God himself." "This simple act of love which so characterizes contemplation is not a private gift. The love of God in its contemplative expression not only transforms the individual soul, in a mysterious way, it also transforms the Church, the world....Contemplation is in itself authentic ministry."

So I seek my purpose in God alone. Not based on what value I add by my actions, but what value I add to this planet as a human being: fully human, and fully myself. By reaching the full stature of who Christ beckons me to become, I find meaning and purpose.

Pathway to Purpose: The Holy Spirit

2005-04-09T19:04:00.000-07:00

St. Seraphim of Sarov said, "The goal of the Christian life is the acquisition of the Holy Spirit." We have little record of sayings of St. Seraphim, but the ones we do are powerful. How profound to think our purpose in life is to acquire the Holy Spirit, or rather, to allow the Holy Spirit to acquire all of me. But just how do we go about acquiring the Spirit of God?

The tradition of contemplatives throughout church history point to various methods, disciplines, and avenues to attempt to grow closer to God. Yet they all acknowledge one important point: God alone is the impetus for revealing himself, and His Spirit, to us. Whatever contemplative practice we take up, it will be for naught less God chooses to grant us his presence. Likewise, we may not even be seeking God when all of a sudden he breaks into our being and commands our attention.

Fortunately, there are methods or practices to help us be more open to the contemplative moment when God's presence is made aware to our hearts. Centering prayer is a common practice of our day. Reading God's word, especially lectio divina, is vital. Asceticism and denying our passions opens our bodies and minds to a greater reality than what we see and feel. Without humility, it will be virtually impossible to recognize the Holy God, Holy Mighty, and Holy Immortal one. And finally the sacraments, especially the body and blood of our Lord and Saviour, are the definitive visible means of acquiring our invisible, ineffable God.

Probably the most obvious and valuable lesson of life learned in running a marathon is that good things (the finish line!) come to those who endure. I cannot make that 26 miles pass and end without a certain degree of simply persevering. It takes seeking, waiting, and not giving up. And so it is with acquiring the Holy Spirit. While I must admit it is entirely up to God's grace to reveal himself to me, nonetheless I can pursue him with the gifts he has given to me to avail myself of his Spirit.

I prayed at a labyrinth today. The labyrinth is another great reminder of journey, purpose and perseverance. Repeatedly, the destination comes into view, and just when you think you are there, you make a sudden change in a different direction. Finally when it seems you are the farthest away, a simple turn leads you to your center.

So I continue to practice the disciplines of the saints who demonstrated best how to acquire the Holy Spirit. Daily I seek to humble myself before his throne. And through all of this, the hope is God will show his mercy toward me and grant me his Holy Spirit. This is all part of his purpose for myself, and for all.

Abba Lot went to see Abba Joseph and said to him, "Abba, as far as I can I say my little office, I fast a little, I pray and meditate, I live in peace and as far as I can, I purify my thoughts. What else can I do?" Then the old man stood up and stretched his hands toward heaven. His fingers became like 10 lamps of fire and he said to him, "If you will, you can become all flame."

Pathway to Purpose: Humility

2005-04-06T06:29:00.000-07:00

"The Lord is near to those who have a broken heart, and saves such as have a contrite spirit." Ps 34:18

"For you do not desire sacrifce or else I would give it. You do not delight in burnt offering. The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit, a broken and contrite heart You will not despise." Ps 51: 16,17.

If there is one key to the spiritual life, one quality above all others that without which the interior life cannot abide, without a doubt it must be humility. That is why pride and despair care such huge obstacles to growing nearer to Christ. If we think we are anything other than unworthy servants, his grace will not manifest itself. If we ever despair and give up, the journey is over. If we humble ourselves, and with a broken spirit come before his presence, he is always more than willing to grant us his greatest gift: himself.

Asceticism starts the journey toward purpose. We must discipline ourselves for the trip, remind our bodies and souls what our destination is, and struggle against the passions to grown nearer to our own hearts, and to His. If in our fasting, prayer and struggle we grow cold and angry, we are fasting and praying without humility. I heard a wise priest during Great Lent once say if your fasting leads to anger, go have a cheeseburger and get over it, until you can fast with humility. It is true, without humility and for the right reason, asceticism is nothing.

Countless passages in the bible point to the steadfast love and unending mercy of God. There are no sins that can separate us from himself, except our pride in not being willing to come to him on his terms. If we get our selves to the point of saying "Lord, not my will, but yours be done" everything in the interior realm will be ours. Through aceticism, we teach our bodies and passions brokeness. This is the goal of self discipline. If we struggle, and take the motive of giving up ourselves and finding him, our stuggle will not be in vain.

Jesus said "If any man is willing to do his will, he shall know of the teaching, whether it is of God..." John 17:17. God, in his infinite mercy and love, is simply waiting for our call. He awaits our hearts to give up on seeking our own way, and to come before him in humility. True humility is not self degradation; it is not loudly proclaiming how unworthy we are. Some of the most vocal flagelants I have met are probably some of the most prideful people. Instead, we should be like the publican, with silence and solitude in God's presence beating our breast before him.

Amma Theodora, from the sayings of the desert fathers (and mothers), recites: "There was a hermit who was able to banish the demons and he asked them, "what makes you go away? Is it fasting?" They replied "we do not eat or drink." "Is it vigils?" They replied "we do not sleep." Is it separation from the world?" "We live in the deserts." "What power sends you away then?" They said "nothing can overcome us but only humility." Abba John the dwarf said "humility and the fear of God are above all virtues."

So we see aceticism by itself is nothing, yet with humilty it is of great value. The desert fathers did not give up their struggle, they fought all the harder against the passions but in humility recognizing it is through God that they will overcome. And so we take the next step in our pathway towards finding purpose in life. "He has shown you, O man, what the Lord requires of you. But to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God." Micah 6:8

Pathway to Purpose: Asceticism

2005-04-02T14:56:00.000-08:00

"I cry to God Most high, to God who fulfils his purpose for me." Ps 57:2

"The Lord will fulfill his purpose for me." Ps 138:8

I remember when I was a young adult, how concerned I was with knowing God's purpose for my life. Along with many of my friends, we suffered much angst together trying to determine God's perfect will for our lives. Should we marry? Where should we live? What was our life’s work to be?

In the 25 years since, hopefully I have matured emotionally and spiritually enough to broaden my horizon of what God's purpose is for my life. While the Word of God is full of general direction, I have yet to find the verse with my name telling what to have for breakfast each day. Yet I have learned there are steps I can take to help me discern God’s purpose for me. These steps turn into a journey, a path towards purpose. While most journeys have an end, a destination, I am learning that this journey is an end in itself.

I have found 5 stepping-stones along this journey to discovering purpose. My path must go through each; none can be ignored. Each could become a rest area, a place to stop and regroup. But I can’t stay for long in any one place, they each lead to another. As I discover my spiritual gifts or strengths along the way, I find where I am most successful. Yet I must always leave that place to continue to the next.

Asceticism, or the disciplines of fasting and self-denial, has always been difficult for me. Early on, I did not see a purpose or a goal with these. St. Seraphim used to say one could not pray on a full stomach. While I have tried to prove him wrong, I think he has a point. I have since learned that asceticism cannot be an end in itself. If we try to make it such, our journey hits an immediate dead end.

Great Lent is a time of self-denial, of fasting, prayer, and alms giving. Again these are not our goal; they are the means to our goal of theosis, or redemption. Christ denied himself, first by emptying himself (kenosis) to become man, and finally to face suffering and a brutal death. Somewhere in that journey of suffering, our redemption is found.

I think of Pope John Paul II and the suffering he is experiencing at the end of his life. His witness until his final day is that suffering can be redemptive. While there is a great gulf between self-denial and what real suffering is, I think there is somewhat of a correlation. By denying our passions, our gluttony, sloth, pride and other desires, we get a sense of a different reality.

And so I take the time and energy to practice self-denial. I fast, or at least make a serious attempt to do so. I pray. I give. I think of ways to humble myself to others. Maybe I even run long distances, training my body to accept more than just a slothful, lazy lifestyle. Whatever I do, I remind myself that there is a greater purpose to my life than to eat, drink and be merry. And I allow this self-denial to lead me to another step in discovering my true self, and my true purpose in life.

The Privilege of Prayer

2005-03-26T15:48:00.000-08:00

Someone asked me to pray for them this week. This isn't the first time that has happened, but it's the first time I actually thought for a while what that means. For some reason, they think my prayers will help the situation they are asking about. Okay, I surely can't let this go to my head. They may be asking every living, breathing human they know to pray. It certainly isn't like I some effacy greater than anyone else. There are plenty of people more righteous, more devout, and more dedicated to prayer than myself.

Yet nonetheless, it is a great honor, a great privilege to pray. It is something I, maybe we, all too often take for granted. God is always there waiting for us. He is never too busy, never distracted, never tired of us wanting company with him. In fact, he loves it. The Psalmist repeats how "the Lord takes pleasure in his people" and "the Lord takes pleasure in those who fear him" (Ps147:11, 149:4). Yes, God desires our companionship more than anything else. It's why we remember and celebrate every Easter season the price God paid to restore our relationship.

Yet do we requite his love in the same manner? Do we seek communion with him with all our heart and soul? Or do I assume since I can pray anytime, why pray now? The love of God should not become so familiar to my being that I lose sight of how precious it is. That doesn't mean I limit time spent with God, but rather I value it more than anything in my life.

When someone in sincerity asks me to remember them in prayer, I need to be careful not to respond tritely. "My prayers are with you" and then I go about my business as before. God doesn't need me to pray. But he has granted me the privilge to do so. He has allowed me, in fact it's his will, that I come to him with requests he already is wanting to grant out of his love. All the more reason that "in the fear of God with faith and in love" we should boldly draw near to his presence. Thanks be to God for his mercy and grace in sharing himself.

Running for peace

2005-03-20T17:24:00.000-08:00

From the sayings of the Desert Fathers, we read the rule of life for Abba Arsenius: "Be solitary, be silent, be at peace." Pretty simple words, but how powerful they are! Throughout the pages of these sayings, we often find pilgrims traveling to "hear a word" (a pointed individual exhortation) from a well respected Father. The goal is to find a personal spiritual rule for leading one's life.

How easy it would be if there were such a source today. We do have the church to guide us, our spiritual fathers and guides, and Holy Scripture. But it would so easy if I could hear one simple saying, such as Abba Arsenius had, and apply it for myself. But alas, our pilgrimage can not be so easy. Or can it?

The same themes appear in these words from the Fathers: silence, solitude, simplicity, peace, humility. But we as laypeople in the busy, modern 21st century, who is here to tell us how we live these out today? That, is the challenge for each of us today. To assimilate the truth of our faith, make it personal, and set our lives to living it out in our own personal way. Yet it must be in accordance with the tradition and history of our spiritual ancestors.

Abba Bessarion was a spiritual nomad, traveling from place to place. His saying was "for always I must wander, in order to finish my course." These words resonate with me as I run for over 2 hours on a Saturday morning, training for another marathon. A gentle, misty rain grows harder, then back to a slight mist. The roads in and around Ft. Ben are virtually empty, save a few other hearty souls seeking health and peace. The solitude is welcome, a respite from marathons of thousands of runners, bands, spectators and cheers. My partners this morning are a few geese announcing their arrival; clouds bantering about for space in a gray sky; a mallard braving the rain on the lake shore; and the rhythmic beat of wet shoes meeting pavement.

There is something contemplative about long distance running. The time spent alone challenging my body to exceed it's limits, challenges my soul to pursue peace to the same degree. If Bessarion had to "always wander, in order to finish his course", I wonder if always I must run, in order to find peace. The rain ceases, the clouds struggle to hold back an emerging attempt at sunlight. And all the while my footprints and heartbeat seek to hold a word, to live out my course, the pursuit of inner peace.

Sayings of the Desert Fathers

2005-03-14T18:00:00.000-08:00

At the beginning of this year, I started reading through "The Sayings of the Desert Fathers" for the second time. I only read a couple every day, it took me about 2 years to go through it the first time. The second time through is giving me an opportunity to really let them sink into me, and allow me to meditate on their meaning a little more. Many of the same themes repeat themselves: humilty, silence, prayer, obedience, the Psalms, and the value of asceticism. What could be more appropriate to start Lent than with a few of their sayings?

From Abba Evagrius: "It is a great thing to pray without distraction, but to chant the Psalms without distraction is even greater." How meaningful after hearing the Canon of St. Andrew of Crete and Great Compline.

From Bishop Epiphanius on the value of personal piety: Someone asked him, "Is one righteous man enough to appease God?" Abba replied "Yes, for he himself has written "find a man who lives according to righteousness and I will pardon the whole people" Jer 5:1. How similar to St. Seraphims' great unction: "Acquire inner peace, and thousands beside you will be saved."

Finally, from Abba Dioscorus about repentance and humility: In his cell, he wept over himself, while his disciple was sitting in another cell. When the latter came to see the old man, he asked him "Father, why are you weeping?" Abba Dioscorus replied "I am weeping over my sins". His disciple said "Father, you don't have any sins." Abba answered "Truly my child, if I were allowed to see my sins, three or four men would not be enough to weep for them."

Lord have mercy on us and grant us hearts of repentence and humility as we prepare ourselves to celebrate your passion and resurrection.

Let my prayer arise

2005-02-14T17:34:00.000-08:00

I saw the sun rise this morning. First it was dark, then it was just less dark. An almost unnoticable change of hue, from black, to less black. That subtle change caught my eye this morning.

Prayer is the intentional turning of our hearts to God.

So I walked outside in the woods, to see if the sun would rise. Then the sky, the trees, the woods moved from less black to gray, than to shades of color I can't describe. The woods were now apparent, no longer hidden, but still not yet light.

Prayer is the realization of our hearts in God.

I still could not see the sun rise, but could I believe it would? The sounds of the sun rising I could hear. Birds began chirping, Canadian geese flew gallantly overhead, A ravenous hawk announces it's intention to find prey. The gray sky revealed a misty morning, with silver silhouettes growing lighter.

Prayer is our loving attentiveness to God's presence.

And then the morning ignited. The sounds trumpeted! Nature awoke! Humankind was still sleeping, maybe busy. But I saw it, only because I was there, only because I became aware. From a slight sliver, to a bursting fire of orange, the sun appeared. Nature rejoiced! What once was dark, now was light. Was once was hidden, now was revealed. What once was longed for, now was believed. Hope becomes faith.

Prayer is God.

A greater way

2005-01-01T09:58:00.000-08:00

I have come to love contemplative prayer, and the contemplative lifestyle. Here I sit on a Saturday morning in a totally empty house, except for me, one sleeping dachsund, and one begging to go play Labrador. But she can wait, because this is very rare. Two kids spent the night at some friends, and my wife is at quilting class. For quite some time, I just sit with my prayer rope, walk around my somewhat flooded acre of meditative woods, sit and pray, walk and pray, and just experience the silence, the solitude, the beauty.

Of course, this moment won't last. And I couldn't stay like this forever. As much as I dream of a life totally full of contemplative moments, I am not strong enough for that or called to such. Even at last nights vigil at St. Constantine and Elena, I could only handle about an hour and 45 minutes before leaving after the gospel. And that is okay. "Pray as you can, not as you think you have to." That's a loose translation of a very profound statement from a book on contemplation.

So what if I could pray all day? What if I lived on a mountain, lived an extremly ascetic life, and devoted myself to prayer? Would I know and see God completely? As much as the saints who pursued such a life did find union with God, would they claim to have actually seen Him?

I reflect on the first part of one of the most powerful passages in scripture, I John 4:7-21. "Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God, and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God because God is love. This is how God showed his love among us: he sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him. This is love not that we love God, but that he loved us and sent his son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins. Dear friends, since God so loved us we also ought to love one another. No one has ever seen God, but if we love each other, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us."

Contemplation is almost the greatest game in town. Yes, I love to hike, walk, sit alone in silence, pray, read and wait for God. While all that is great, there is one thing greater. If I truly loved one other person, one time without any selfish reason or for my own good, or to try and appease or please God, if I actually sacrificed to my own detriment one moment on behalf of the poor just for their sakes, I have done greater than see God. I have actually allowed his presence in me.

I don't think there is a more powerful statement or thought in the entire bible, or any religious writing. And it makes me wonder if I ever really do love purely. I think of Christ in the garden, wrestling with doubt, under spiritual attack, and willingly going against his human nature will, to follow the Fathers perfect will. And that will is simply to love. For all our theological bickering, confusion, and polarized disunity, can we agree on one simple but profound point: love one another.

And so I take another step on this journey. To realize this contemplative path doesn't end here, but always must lead back to reality, and back to life. So that I can take that perfect peace, that love that God has shown me, and someday, somehow, in some little way, show it to another. In that will I not see God, even not only know God, but actually experience the living God living in me.

Thy Kingdom Come--Prayer and suffering

2004-12-26T17:16:00.000-08:00

These three words: "Thy Kingdom come", are to me the essence of prayer. The kingdom of God envelopes every part and parcel of our lives. The kingdom of God includes forgiveness, repentance, gratefulness, intercession, love, peace, joy and every good thing we receive from God. All that is good about life itself, is to be found in greater and even more abundant provision in the kingdom of God.

In John 10:10 Jesus said "I have come that they might have life, and have it more abundantly." Yet in Luke 9:23 he also said "If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me." God's ultimate plan is to destroy our pain and suffering. Yet for life to be authentic, suffering is a part of it, for now. In the incarnation, we see God coming to earth to suffer, first as a poor pilgrim sharing humanity with us, and finally sharing the experience of a humiliating painful death.

God wants us to be happy. He wants us to have lives full of joy, peace and beauty. He is not an angry God relishing in our suffering. His kingdom is to alleviate all suffering. The only way to understand and fully experience true life and the end of suffering is through union with God. My own definition of the kingdom of God is this: through our union with God, we bring peace, love, beauty and joy to a suffering world.

So when we pray "Thy kingdom come", are we praying for peace or for conflict? I'm slowly coming to the conclusion that it is both. Ultimately, it is for peace for the world. But that peace does not come without a price. The price is for us to follow the model of Christ, and to live our own incarnation. We voluntarily empty ourselves (kenosis, Philippians 2) to help alleviate the suffering of others. Rather than spend our lives building our own little fifedoms of wealth, pleasure, control, and separation from the hurting, we give of ourselves.

Christ is our example in giving of himself to bring his kingdom to others. Mary, a layperson and contemplative, also showed this emptying by accepting the cross she was to bear, the death of her son. May our prayer be for ultimate peace, love, joy and beauty, as we with Mary cry be it unto me according to your word. Thy kingdom come.

Paradigms of prayer--Ponder

2004-12-04T13:45:00.000-08:00

Lectio Divina is the spiritual practice of slowly and contemplatively reading scripture, with the goal not so much intellectual knowledge as union with God. It has been a practice of the church from ancient times, starting with monastics and contemplatives from very early. The goal is to take the word of God from the objective or scientific realm, to the subjective and personal; to make the word of God real to my spirit. This is true theology. As the desert fathers have said: A theologian is one who prays.

The book of Psalms plays a huge part in Orthodox liturgics. I can't think of a service that does not include the Psalms, if not directly chanting them, at least sound bytes, such as the Prokemenon for the Epistle reading. Clearly the Psalms are a wellspring for spiritual growth, and a wealth of material for contemplative practice. "The law from your mouth is more precious to me than thousands of pieces of gold and silver" Ps 119:72

I vaguely remember as an evangelical, a preacher encouraging believers to spend the bulk of their time reading the bible in the epistles. The epistles (according to him) were the law of God for the New Testament church. The gospels were important, not so much for Christ' teaching as the revelation of salvation. And the Psalms, well they were milk for spiritual babes and one should eventually grow out of them for the most part. How strange that teaching seems to me now that I've been Orthodox for 10 years.

Far from being just spiritual milk, the Psalms are truly God's word. They are not only our hymnbook, they are a source of comfort, of learning, of peace, of weapons for spiritual warfare, and a depth of life for contemplation. No where is this more apparent than Psalm 119. Of its 176 verses, all but 4 specifically refer to God's word, law, decrees, statues, commands, and precepts. The Psalms have become for me, and specifically Psalm 119, a great starting point for contemplative prayer. They prime the pump so to speak, and lead me to ponder what is truly the word of God: the revelation of God to my heart.

To the evangelical still in me, this kind of talk is borderline heresy, and dangerous. To them, the word of God is an objective intellectual enterprise, a book of rules and laws for great minds to interpret for the rest of us in unchanging stagnant decrees. But far from dangerous, lectio divina brings the word of God to life. I don't expect to hear God speaking directly in specific concrete instructions (go to Chicago today, leave your wife, drink the kool-aid) nor should I. Clearly that would be opposed to the spirit of God's word. But I do hear the Spirit make personal the real word of God: God is love, God is life, God is concerned about me personally.

Words only represent thoughts, emotions, or senses that are made personal to each of us. As we ponder the word of God, and prayerfully ask "Speak Lord, your servant listens", we follow the model of the greatest lay contemplative and the Mother of our God. "I am the Lords servant, may it be to me as you have said" Luke 1:38. "But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart" Luke 2:19.

Fervor

2004-11-23T20:28:00.000-08:00

Most of Thomas Merton is over my head, at least I have to read it very slowly. I've read the following quote from "The Inner Experience" several times lately (slowly) and it has a really good point: "But those forms of religious and liturgical worship which have lost their initial impulse of fervor tend more and more to forget their contemplative purpose, and to attach exclusive importance to rites and forms for their own sake, or for the sake of the effect which they are believed to exercise on the One who is worshipped. The highest form of religious worship finds its issue and fulfillment in contemplative awakening and in transcendent spiritual peace."

When we first "experience" God, or have our initial encounters with Him, there is a resulting fervor that lingers for a while. I can remember back to many such times early in my life as a Christian, and as Orthodox. But somewhere along the way, we get set in our routines, and complacency sets in to a degree. To recapture that initial fervor, we try to formulate our experience, and encapsulate God in a method. Those methods become our crutch, an easy way to seek God, without having to do the work of re-creating a real experience with Him. The root may be fear: fear that He will not respond as before; fear that He's moved beyond us.

But true faith will trust that God will always be there, beyond our feeling and sense. We trust faith, not our feeling. The contemplative experience is one of faith, one of resting and abiding in the presence of God. It is simply to be with Christ, whether we "feel"him or not. True peace comes from this contemplative moment, as He imparts His Spirit of peace to us, beyond our understanding, beyond our senses. We don't give up our liturgy, it is an integral part of our life. But our faith is in the God that liturgy focuses upon. Our fervor moves from sensual and intellectual feeling, to real awareness and knowledge of faith.

Random thoughts on a Saturday

2004-11-20T17:08:00.000-08:00

Went to a day of silent prayer at Cordiafonte. Here are some random thoughts from meditative walks today and earlier this week.

humility: wish there was a pill one could take to be humble. I can't possibly see how I couldn't be humble, since I have so little to brag about anyway. But I manage to find a way to promote my point of view, push for my own benefit, and not pay enough attention to others feelings. When will I learn that "in humility consider others better than myself" as Paul says in Philippians, is the gate to freedom?

Mindfulness: My last post was about two realities, the physical world and the spiritual. Seems to me the real battle ground between these two is the mind. Our flesh, or earthly desires want one thing. Our spirits long and desire to serve God (Romans 7). But it's our mind that directs which way we will go. We are admonished in Colossians 3, "Since then you have been raised with Christ, set you heart on things above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God. Set you minds on things above..." Through consistent recitation of the Jesus prayer, I attempt to have my mind direct the rest of my being toward the Spirit of God.

Faith: In John 14, Philip asks Jesus "show us the Father and that will be enough for us." Jesus responds "anyone who has seen me has seen the Father." And later, "I am in my Father, and you are in me, and I in you." When my faith wavers and I doubt the presence of God, do I see Christ in others? In the poor, in those who love me, in those all around me?

Wholeness: Who am I? Not what, but who? I am a father; I am a husband; I am Orthodox, but those all describe what I do. I am most fully "me" in that endeavor where I am most alert, most awake, most alive. I am who I am when I pray. In prayer, in naked humility and communion with God, there is nothing hidden and no games that can hide the reality of "me".

Contemplation: In the struggle for contemplation, this journey to a "peaceful and loving attentiveness to the presence of God", I learn many things. There is a difference between contemplation and contemplative practice. Contemplation is the realization of the transcendent God present with me. But I can't make that happen or create that sense. It is by contemplative practice that I open myself up to this possibility as I wait on God's grace and Spirit to reveal himself to me. So I practice what I know, ever watchful and waiting for the reality of the kingdom of God.

Reality

2004-11-06T08:38:00.000-08:00

"Those who live according to the sinful nature have their minds set on what that nature desires; but those who live in accordance with the Spirit have their minds set on what the Spirit desires. The mind of sinful man is death, but the mind controlled by the Spirit is life and peace." Romans 8:5,6
"The one who sows to please his sinful nature, from that nature will reap dstruction; the one who sows to please the Spirit, from the Spirit will reap eternal life." Galatians 6:8
"So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal." II Corinthians 4:18

Kerry Livgren and the rock group Kansas had a hit song titled "Dust in the Wind." One of the lines I always remember from that is "nothing lasts forever but the earth and sky." Kerry became a Chrisitian later in life, I wonder if he still believed that. I wonder if not the opposite is true. According to these scriptures, the only thing that will be eternal is the unseen, or the Spirit.

It seems to me there are two realities; one is the temporary, the seen, the senses, the flesh. The other is what is unseen, what is eternal, the Spirit. For most of the world today, only one reality exists, they live a sensual life according to what is felt, seen or heard. If I'm honest, I must admit how much of my life is lived according to the flesh. How much do time, energy and effort do I spend toward the spiritual? And just how does one live a "spiritual" life if it's impossible to see, feel or hear?

Two portals into the spiritual life come to mind. One is the sacraments. I believe the definition of a sacrament is "the visible means of God's invisible grace." When I was baptized, when I was chrismated, when I partake of the Eucharist, Christ is coming to me invisibly. He is present in each of those, not to the naked eye, but to the Spirit. Sacraments aren't magic, but they are mystical. For those who approach them in faith, the reality of the Spirit is present.

The other portal is direct union with God's Spirit. This one is surely way over my head and thinking. But I'm learning if we seek silence, solitude and stillness of mind and heart, along with silent contemplative prayer, God will make himself real to us. As with a sacrament, not in a visible or emotional feeling, but through the quiet work of His Spirit. I'm thankful for the Orthodox (and Catholic) monks and mystics who have shown us this path to contemplation. And I'm eternally grateful to God for His Spirit, His word, and His church. "Oh the depths of the riches of the widsom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable his judgements and his paths beyond tracing out! Who has known the mind of the Lord? Or who has been his counselor? Who has ever given to God that God should repay him? For from Him, and through Him, and to Him are all things. To him be the glory forever!" Romans 11:33-36

Paradigms of prayer--Gaze

2004-10-13T17:06:00.000-07:00

October in Indiana is incredible. Maybe it's because I grew up in Orlando where the best thing about October is the temperature only gets around 90 and the humidity isn't quite suffocating. Here, it is beyond my words to describe how beautiful it is right now. At night it's a crisp 40-50 degrees, during the day maybe the 60's and 70's. The air seems so pure, so refreshing. And of course the trees. The trees are in the middle of their losing their leaves, with a brilliant display of color, beauty and imagination.

Beauty wasn't a part of my vernacular when I was younger (before 40!). If it wasn't practical, I wasn't concerned about it. Why water and fertilize, that only makes the grass grow so I have to cut it twice a week. But as I've gotten older, I've slowed down in more than one way. Silence has become a cherished part of my day. With 5 kids and a busy job, solitude is worth it's weight in gold. I've tried to simplify the pace and complexity of life. And I've noticed how beautiful life can be.

My family often finds ourselves sitting at one of our large windows gazing out into the woods. It is so compelling, just to view the beauty, and maybe even catch a glimpse of wildlife getting ready for winter. Even when I'm busy working in the house or office, if I step outside and glance at the trees, for a moment time stands still. It's as if nothing else matters for a brief second or two, only to acknowledge a Masters creation of living artwork. In that momentary gaze, I find my heart drawn to a deeper reality behind the allure of incredible nature. The trees, the leaves, the cool wind become an icon representing a mystical life more fulfilling than any life pursuit. If I take a few more moments, I'm am heading down a path of contemplation, of pondering this awareness of God's presence. My eyes, my ears, even my pondering mind can become a gateway opening my heart up to this life giving reality.

The same phenomenon happens when I'm in front of an icon. I think of Pascha, of walking into a quiet, dark temple. The only light is in front of a chanter as they chant Psalms before the liturgy begins. As light will later fill the temple, the beauty of icons, the smell of incense, all reveal a presence to our gaze beyond comprehension.

I can't create an awareness of God. I certainly can't demand His Spirit to come and go. So I learn to be mindful, to be awake for that spontaneous contemplative experience that so often starts with a simple gaze.

Contemplation and Action

2004-10-09T12:27:00.000-07:00

At the suggestion on a friends blog (http://rabtab.blogspot.com/), I recently read this article: http://www.incommunion.org/mmaria.htm

Reading about Mother Maria Skobtsova has made me think about another of the tensions of the spiritual life, that of action and contemplation. There are an untold number of saints who have dedicated their entire lives to silence and prayer, without us ever knowing of their prayer work. And there are many others, such as Mother Maria, and Mother Theresa, who devote their lives to the poor and oppressed. These two works, prayer and action, are not mutually exclusive, in fact they are rather connected. How could one truly connect to our loving God and Father, without having a heart for the suffering? How could one truly minister to the oppressed, without first knowing God's love?

In Mother Maria's words: "If someone turns with his spiritual world toward the spiritual world of another person," she reflected, "he encounters an awesome and inspiring mystery .... He comes into contact with the true image of God in man, with the very icon of God incarnate in the world, with a reflection of the mystery of God's incarnation and divine manhood. And he needs to accept this awesome revelation of God unconditionally, to venerate the image of God in his brother." In the words of John the Theologian from his first epistle: "Anyone who claims to be in the light, but hates his brother, is still in the darkness. Whoever loves his brother lives in the light." And also: "This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers."

While each true Christian needs a balance between contemplation and action, each may have a call, a gift, or a desire for a specific purpose. Too often the contemplative judges the server as being too busy, too active, and not taking enough time for their own spiritual life. And the servant judges the contemplative as too aloof, too heavenly minded to be any earthly good. I think of the story of Mary and Martha when Jesus came to visit. Mary sat at Jesus feet listening to Him while Martha was busy serving Him. Often the point is made Mary chose the better part. However, Jesus never judged or accused Martha for serving; he only made that point when she interrupted her serving to criticize her more contemplative sister.

While each of us is called both to pray and to serve, it is up to us to find what our gift is, what our purpose and place is in the Kingdom of God. I wonder if by trying to be balanced we often sacrifice our gift? I'm thankful for the saints who dedicated their lives to prayer on behalf of the world. And I'm thankful for those who loved and worked at bringing the gospel to my life. Lord have mercy that you will fulfill your purpose in me.

Pilgrimage to the heart

2004-10-07T09:20:00.000-07:00

For the last 3 days, I've been traveling around southwestern Indiana, doing a little hiking and visiting places. I had an idea of things to see, but I stopped a couple extra places and spent some extra time whenever I felt like it. When I would tell people at work I was going to be off 2 weeks, the first question was always "where are you going?" Like vacations and life aren't worth leaving if you don't leave home.

I didn't have to leave Indiana to find some interesting and inspirational places. My first stop was Terre Haute (slightly unplanned) to pray a labyrinth at St. Mary of the Woods College and the convent of the Sisters of Providence. I ended up being there half the day. The church of the Immaculate Conception is huge, and beautiful inside. Nuns began filling in after a while and the next thing you know Mass had started. So I stayed for Mass, lunch, and visited other sights on the campus: the shell chapel of St. Anne, a replica of the grotto of our Lady of Lourdes, and an outdoor stations of the cross. Catholicism has a rich contemplative heritage of it's own, I pray one day we Orthodox will be in communion with our western family.

After some hiking at Shakamak state park, I drove into New Harmony for the night. New Harmony is a kind of "new agey" place that in the early 19th century was the sight of a couple attempts at a utopian society. There are two outdoor labyrinths, plus a lot of gardens, one dedicated to the theologian Paul Tillich, one with a chapel dedicated to St. Francis; a roofless church with several pieces of artwork. Interesting place. And of course, I hiked a couple hours at Harmonie State Park.

The next night I spent at St. Meinrad monastery and seminary. I attended several services with the monks, including Vigils and Lauds at 5:30 a.m. That was unplanned, but the loud bells rang for 15 minutes starting at 5:15 so I took the hint I should be at church. On the way out, I drove up a hill to the Monte Cassino shrine. It was like a little chapel on a hill, very beautiful inside with western type icons. I sat and prayed silently for a while until the first visitor showed up. Between hikes, services, and jogs I began reading "Why Not be a Mystic?" by Frank Tuoti.

There were definitely some sharp contrasts during the 3 days. The ancient theology of the western world at St. Meinrad seminary, against labyrinths under full moons in New Harmony. Praying deep in the woods with nothing but birds and trees, against praying in a shrine or an incredible gothic style church. And upon my return home, a little of each. My woods I can see from this computer, with the leaves changing colors and falling to the ground, along with an icon of the Theotokos hanging in our living room.

So what did I learn, what did I gain from this short pilgrimage? There were no earth shattering visions, or audible voices giving me direction. But I did sense the presence of God. As a wild turkey or a fox darted in front of me in the woods; when a hundred women and men who dedicated their lives to prayer filed into church for mass; when I silently prayed in the shrine, at 5:30 for vigils, at a labyrinth, on a jog. And I sensed the presence of God when my family greeted me home, and when I gazed out to my back yard woods. "Christ is in our midst! He is and ever shall be." He truly is in our midst: wherever we are, so is He. What a powerful thought!

Contemplation

2004-10-02T13:21:00.000-07:00

There is contemplation, and there are contemplative practices that lead to it. I'm not sure what the definition of these would be. To me, contemplation is an awareness of the presence of God, and contemplative practice, anything that brings an awareness of the presence of God. But that definition leaves a little unsaid also. Just to consider that God exists, and be aware of His attributes of omnipotence and omnipresence, would probably not be enough. Or would it be?

Can contemplation be an existential acknowledgment of the fact of God? Or is there an awareness, a personal knowledge, on a different or spiritual level beyond our intellect and knowing? Maybe not neccessarily a deeper level, just different. In fact it may be a simpler level, like a baby trusting in a mothers love and embrace.

I remind myself of Psalm 131: "O Lord my heart is not haughty, nor my eyes lofty, neither do I concern myself with great matters or things too profound for me. Surely I have calmed and quieted my soul like a weaned child with his mother." I do not understand contemplation on a cognitive level. I'm reading Thomas Merton "The Inner Experience". Like many books, it's a challenge for me. But I think I can relate to the basic thought of contemplation, that is the awareness of the presence of God through His Spirit in my spirit.

And so I work at contemplative practices: Prayer, reading the Bible, reading spiritual books, silence, solitude, manual labor, stability, prayer walks, meditation, and giving. But these are not contemplation; these are not the presence of God. They simply create an environment where somehow hopefully the Spirit of God breaks into my atmosphere and in a spontaneous moment, I realize God is there. And He is here. And He is. For all the work, for all the spiritual struggle, the end result is what could have come easily: the acknowledgment of God's presence in my being. For that fleeting moment, life makes perfect sense. So I begin again at contemplative practice, all to comprehend the incomprehensible. to conceive of the inconceivable.

Perspectives on God

2004-09-26T16:44:00.000-07:00

There are 4 icons on the prayer trail in the woods in my back yard. Two of them are back to back, but due to how the trail winds around, one is near the start and one near the middle or end of the trail. You can't seem them both at the same time of course. One is Christ crucified on the cross. The other is the descent into hell, or the icon representing Pascha, Christ' resurrection. I purposely put those icons together only inches apart, yet far separate on the trail. That seems analagous to me of how the theology of them both go together.

There is no resurrection without the crucifixion, and and their is no Christ crucified without acknowledging his rising from the tomb. They are two sides of the same coin. Yet when I gaze at each of the icons, completely different emotions and thoughts come to mind. To see my Lord God and Saviour on the cross is a humbling experience. I realize how sinful I am, and I sense the pain He took for me and the sins of the world. I reflect on how vespers on Holy Friday brings the same thoughts, as I contemplate what a price God paid for my salvation.

For all the sadness and mourning that I sense from that icon, viewing Christ' rising from the tomb brings opposite emotions. How joyful the thought of our resurrected Saviour! How powerful the happiness from knowing He is alive! Where I see Christ reaching down and pulling Adam and Eve from hell, I sometimes picture my hand, my soul, my life being brought to life by His power and love. Yet these two seemingly vastly different pericopes are one and the same. As I meditate on this thought, I realize how too often I focus on one icon over the other. Maybe's it's my emotion at the time, or my personality. But I must remember how great our God is that the full spectrum of emotion, of intellect, of life, are encompassed in Him.

A.W. Tozer in his "The Knowledge of the Holy" writes about the attributes of God. So many attributes of God appear to contrast: His mercy and justice, His love and holiness, His transcedence and His immanence. These last two stand out in my mind. How can a God that is so immense, so unknowing, so "other", be omnipresent and so close? I saw a t-shirt last week with the face of Christ with the slogan "Jesus is my homeboy". While that was borderline sacreligious to me, to the person wearing it, it was just an expression of their understanding of the immanence of God. Maybe my Orthodox emphasis on reverence comes across cold to that same person, while it is simply my expression of the transcendence of God.

We are told we can't be all things to all people. But can God be all things to all people? He is all things that are good, all that express love, beauty, joy and peace. How much of my thought of God is due to my personal preference and perspective, and how much is His truth? I remind myself while walking past those icons of the icon on the other side. And I realize God is so great my thought can certainly not contain all that He is.

Desire and the Kingdom of God

2004-09-18T05:28:00.000-07:00

What do I want? What is it that I seek? What do I really desire? Mark Thibodeaux, in his book "The Armchair Mystic", talks about how early in his prayer life, he was bored. He was at a dry place and felt like he was playing games with his love relationship with God. And he felt like God was saying to him "Mark, what is it you really want?" The point was, it is okay to pursue what you want. What God puts in your heart, seek; what he doesn't, don't waste your time on. The Psalmist crys "Delight yourself in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart." Not that God just grants our wishes, but He puts his desires in us.

After almost 45 years, I'm getting closer to knowing what I want. I seek inner peace. If I acquire inner peace, I will become whole. Yes, it's all about me. Because until I acquire inner peace, the world will not be at peace. Not that the world revolves around me, but "I" am a part of the world, a part of an eternal entity, that is not whole until each part becomes whole. And it is all about you, because you too are a part of this web God is weaving, this dominion, this Kingdom.

And so I seek peace, through prayer, through contemplation, through contemplative practices like going to work each day, watching a movie with my kids, blowing runny noses at the Guardian home, or running a 5k. It's all about me being selfish and seeking what I want. Not the external I of the passions, but as Merton would say the internal "I", the true self that yearns for the Kingdom of God. For when I follow that desire, I acquire inner peace, I become whole, as does the world. We pray "Thy Kingdom Come." That Kingdom comes when we unite ourselves to God, which brings love, peace, beauty and joy to a suffering world.

Types of prayer--and Six short prayers

2004-09-15T13:54:00.000-07:00

How does one describe prayer? How do you pray? Answering those questions could take volumes as great as the sand on the seashore. Over the last few days, I've been able to experience prayer in several different meaningful ways. Meaningful, at least for me. For others, these methods may be dreary and boring. But that's the great thing about our relationship with God. Our ways to communicate, to love, to praise Him, may be completely varied, yet in the end they serve one purpose: to draw us closer to the One we love.

Sunday I went to a workshop at Fatima Retreat center on "Praying a labyrinth". I've been to a couple different labyrinths, and read a little about them. From this workshop, I heard some of the same thoughts, mainly that there is no right or wrong way to pray. Simply walk silently and paryerfully following the labyrinth, and see where the journey takes you in your spirit. Don't expect God to speak in a loud voice, or powerfully from a burning bush; it's a labyrinth, not Mount Tabor.

Last night I went to Cordiafonte House of Prayer for a silent prayer time. Four people attended, including myself and the two monastic residents. We had two 25 minute silent prayer times with about a 2 minute silent walk around the chapel in between.

Praying in silence, without words or with few words, has become an important part of my devotion. There is something about simply abiding in the presence of God that speaks great mercy and peace to my interior life. The deeper I seem to grow in prayer, the less words appear. The most powerful prayer that many Orthodox Christians experience is simply 12 words: "Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me a sinner."

Over the last few years, I've come to pray 6 short prayers daily. "Lord give me a heart for You, my family, and the suffering in the world." "Lord protect me from pride, greed, lust and sin." "Lord, thank you for everything you've given, done and are." "Reveal to us O Lord, the beauty of Your Kingdom, and the knowledge of your unapproachable glory." "Grant peace to Your world O Lord. Grant peace to Your church O Lord. Grant peace to my family O Lord. Grant peace to my soul O Lord." "Thy Kingdom come."

Those last 2 I try and pray as often as I can along with the Jesus prayer. All of these have a lot of meaning for me, especially the last 2. For others, they are probably simply words. But that is another great aspect of prayer, how personal it can be. I think each of us has our own prayer of our heart, if we take the time to find the words that resonate within us.

Salvation History Milestones

2004-09-10T17:33:00.000-07:00

Wednesday, September 8th, was the first major feast of the liturgical year: the Nativity of the Theotokos. As a former evangelical for most of my life, this is one of those feasts that seemed to have a little less significance to me than the biblical ones such as Theophany, Transfiguration, Pentecost and such. I spent some time this week thinking about this feast, not only it's historical importance, but how it applies to me here in the 21st century.

The celebratory feasts of the church are not just memorials or re-telling of historical events. Just as the Eucharist is not simply a remberence, but an active, present participation in our life in Christ, so also the feasts have application and bring life to us today. But what specifically is special about the birth of the Theotokos? Yes, she is the Mother of God and her place in salvation history is absolutley immeasurable. But what is it about this point in time that has meaning to me?

As I meditated on these thoughts, I harkened back to one of the doctrines of Evangelicalism that I always seemed to struggle with, that is "when" was I saved? I remember at 10 years old after hearing John chapter 3 for the first time, and a Sunday school teacher sharing with me about me being born again, praying to accept Christ into my life. That was when I was saved. Until September 10, 1981, and going forward at a Resurrection Band concert to commit my life to Christ after getting some distance away from Him as a young adult. Which of those prayers actually "saved" me? Or was it Pentecost 1995 when I was chrismated into the Holy Orthodox church, and "found the true faith". Of course, maybe being born again was my infant baptism into the Presbyterian faith.

Throughout our corporate church history, there have been monumental points where God intervened and worked salvation. These are the milestones of our salvation history, when God worked to save the world. And so in each of our own personal lives, there are milestones when God breaks into the monotony of our lives, shattering both our sin and our understading of what He can work in us. Just when I think I'm "saved", or have arrived, at a new moment a glimpse of God's glory arises to make me realize how far away I still may be. But the peace that knowing God continues to save me is more reassuring than the doubt of "if" or "when" I am saved.

For Orthodox Christians, salvation is viewed as a process, not a one time prayer, like buying a car or signing a contact. Theosis, or becoming like God as we seek lives of personal piety and purity, is a constant struggle. Too often the evangelical in me still confuses this with works or earning salvation. Nothing could be farther than the truth. The deeper I get into this struggle over the passions, over sin, over pride, I realize all the more nothing can save me but the grace of God.

But I realize this "outrageous" love of God (to paraphrase Father Joseph Gibson), can not be limited to a one time prayer. Yet one prayer, one moment in time, can have amazing power, to set course to a chain of events that can literally change the world.

A baby girl is born to elderly parents 2000 years ago, in a desolate, oppressed land. To the world, an insignificant event; to those who are being saved, it is the beginning of the true life of the world.

Paradigms of prayer--Linger

2004-09-05T13:06:00.000-07:00

Gaze, ponder, linger. Some of my favorite contemplative activities revolve around these 3. To linger is an artform in itself. Sometimes meditation is described as "focused attention". I think there is also a meditation, or contemplative prayer, that could better be described as "focused inattention."

There are moments in life beyond description, and beyond words. They can not be contrived or created. One can work to create an environment conducive to them, but they still arrive completely on their own schedule. They are totally gifts of God. A call from a friend we haven't heard from in quite a while. Someone cooking your favorite meal without you asking. A look from a loved one demonstrating their love for you. These spontaneous moments come and go, as quickly as a brief moment in time.

Prayer can be the same. James Finley in "The Contemplative Heart" calls it spontaneous contemplative experience. I occasionally practice what is commonly known as centering prayer. The idea is to quiet the mind in solitude and stillness, and focus not on thoughts but simply the presence of God. Occasionally, these times led to a renewed hearfelt awareness of the presence of God, or a contemplative experience. But more often than not for me, as Finley describes, the contemplative experience is spontaneous.

I'm busy at work only to peer out a window at the clouds outside, and sense them saying "Here I am Jeff, the beauty of God, remember?" Or I'm out of breath on a hike to turn and see a scenic vista calling my heart to prayer. During liturgy my spirit is suddenly stirred to the presence of God as we sing "Let us who mystically represent the cherubim and who sing the thrice Holy hymn to the life-creating trinity now lay aside all earthly care."

These moments of spontaneous contemplative experience can be so deep, yet so fleeting. Like trying to catch a falling leaf, or cup water in ones hand, they are ever so momentary and then they are gone. The trick I am learning of the experience, is to linger. Not to try and capture the moment forever, or hold onto it actively. But simply to accept it, focus on it, and bask in the present moment. Not worrying about how long will it last or when will it end, but gratefully accepting it as a gift of God. The danger in times past was to categorize it, and try and file it away for a more opportune time. But I'm learning there is no more opportune time to experience the contemplative awareness of God than at the moment He grants it. And so I linger.

Prayer and the morning paper

2004-09-01T05:31:00.000-07:00

Two suicide bombings in Isreal, 16 killed and dozens injured. A suicide bombing in Moscow, 10 killed and dozens injured. "Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy." Groups clamor to claim credit for their hate and killing innocent people, all in the name of God. "Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy."

A new internet video claims to show the gruesome deaths of 12 hostages by Iraqi militants. In Nepal a father of one of the victims cries out "What sins have I committed to deserve this?".

"Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy."

I wish I could somehow comfort that father. I have no words to say, but in some way I'd like to convey my sorrow and compassion. I wish I could comfort all the victims familes of these absurdities, and share whatever I have to offer to help. I wish I could tell religious fanatics to stop killing people in the name of God. I wish the violence would just end. I wish there were something I could do.

"Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy."

Maybe these Carmelite nuns have an answer: www.praythenews.com Rather than just curse the darkness, I can light a candle by praying as I read. I can't do all the other things I wish I can. But I can pray, seek a life of peace, and beg Christ our God to bring His kingdom, even in the midst of the suffering world.

"Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy."

Paradigms of prayer--wait

2004-08-31T18:01:00.000-07:00

"Wait on the Lord, be of good courage and He shall stengthen your heart. Wait, I say, on the Lord". "Truly my soul waits silently for God...wait silently O my soul, for God alone." "I waited patiently for the Lord, and He heard my cry."

There is a passive sense to waiting. Like waiting on a bus, or waiting on a delivery, we wait on the Lord. We wait for His second coming and triumphant return. We wait for His kingdom to come. We wait for healing, for answer to prayer, for whatever He would bring to us. And we wait each week for His coming in the blessed sacrament of the Eucharist. "When wilt Thou come to me O Lord?". He comes to us as often as we partake of His body and blood.

There is an active sense to waiting. Like waiting on tables, or serving customers, we wait or serve Christ. Patiently as He gives us direction, we go at the bidding of His word. We seek what He desires, and work for what He commands.

In both senses of waiting, there can be repetition. Not vain repetition, but a discipline of repeating and practicing the action of waiting. The contemplative practice I relate to this prayer of waiting is the repetition of the name of Jesus. We are called to "pray without ceasing" and "devote yourselves to prayer." "And I will do whatever you ask for in my name." Throughout the history of the church, there is one prayer that stands out as an anchor of faith, a beacon of hope for the lost. "Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me a sinner." The repetition of the Jesus prayer can be that anchor to our contemplative lives. As we seek to constantly, or consistently, remember the name of Jesus in this prayer, we acquire inner peace that brings salvation to many.

Shelter in the wildnerness

2004-08-29T18:23:00.000-07:00

There's a phrase from Psalm 55, which we read in 6th hour, that I love. It is something to the effect of "Oh that I had wings like a dove, I would fly away and be at rest, I would hasten to find a shelter in the wildnerness." Everyone needs a shelter in the wilderness, a place to hide and find rest. Okay, not the "happy place" of Happy Gilmour. But your own personal retreat center, a place to pray, find quiet and solitude, and regroup before battling life again.

When we moved to Indiana over a year ago, we bought a house sitting on an acre of woods. The back half of that was overgrown with tall brush and a was a veritable enchanted forest of Yoda. I've spent quite some time clearing out the underbrush and making my very own meditative woods. The kids started putting in a trail, which I've completed and turned into a mini-labyrinth. The new growth has sprung up, creating a nice contrast to the tall, thick trees. The labyrinth ends in a little space with a buckeye tree, and now a statue of Mary. (Okay for you fundamental Orthodox sticklers, I know 3D religious imagery is not allowed. This is, ahhmm, a garden decoration, not an icon).

I've added 4 icons in icon boxes in a few spots on the trail/labyrinth. And finally, a couple benches, one in the woods and 2 in the grassy area before the woods. Okay, it's not Mount Athos. But it is a really cool place to hang out, pray, and meditate. Just watch out for the raccoons, squirrels, bats, or deer roaming around the place.

Paradigms of prayer--Seek

2004-08-25T17:44:00.000-07:00

How does one learn to pray? How does one describe or teach someone how to pray? It is like teaching someone how to love, what to say, subtle intangibles that communicate love to another person. Just as love can't really be taught, so prayer must be learned naturally to a degree, by sensing and following our spirit being led by God's Spirit.

Rather than learning prayer in a how to method, I have been meditating on words that leave an impression of what my prayer is. Each of these words corresponds to a contemplative practice I have developed over time. Each of these leads to a different aspect of my prayer life.

"Seek", or the prayer of seeking is the first that comes to mind. We are challenged to "seek first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness", also to "seek peace and pursue it". This is a prayer of movement, of going from one place to another. It has a destination, although the destination is not always known. The destination is not really the goal, it is in the journey that we find peace and the Kingdom of God. The real destination is union with God.

The practice of this prayer is when I walk silently in my neighborhood. It is when I hike through the woods and hills and find the beauty of God. It is when I journey in a labyrinth. It is when I run a marathon. It is when my body is moving, my heart is beating faster, my breathing is full, and my mind goes with my soul and body seeking what is to come. Like the labyrinth, or a marathon route, or a trail in the woods I have never taken, my heart follows my footsteps to see where God will lead. And as I seek, I find. I find God's love, His presence, His beauty, His kingdom.

Welcome

2004-08-24T18:48:00.000-07:00

As Orthodox Christians, we seek to acquire inner peace and the Holy Spirit through the rule of a contemplative lifestlye based on Holy Scripture and the traditon of our Holy Ancestors. We acknowledge that prayer is both a means and an end: a means in that prayer transforms us and prepares us for a life of service to our fellow humankind, and an end in that union with God is the deepest need of the human condition.

We acquire this inner peace by seeking to dwell in the presence of Christ always, or rather to make ourselves aware of the presence of God and His kingdom as constantly or consistently as our lifestyle allows. We rest in this presence of God through liturgical prayer, both corporate and personal, through the recitation of the name of Jesus, and through contemplation and meditation. We confess our calling is no higher than any other since we are in as dire need of God's grace as the worst sinner. Our calling and gift is simply to bring the world to the Kingdom of God and bring the Kingdom of God to the world through prayer and a life of peace.