Joyful Work?

Recently as I read a friend’s words discussing the struggle of living a contem-
plative life versus one of more perceived compassion toward the world, I found myself getting anxious that I do not do enough to help the world, the poor, the marginalized. As I read on, tears came to my eyes when I sensed God speaking directly to me saying, "Don't you see how your gifts extend into the world, so that others may find their way?"

Words such as these can be hard for me to receive. While I have never understood much about asceticism per se, I have a sense (for myself) that if it feels too good (i.e. if I find joy in my work), then there must be something wrong. I see myself as not working hard enough or doing the "right" things. These are long-ingrained messages that I have only recently started to challenge.

I LOVE the "work" (and it is difficult to even use that word) I do with Soltura and at Mars Hill. My heart fills as I see men and women come to have more self-awareness, compassion for themselves and begin to understand what truly brings them alive in the world.

The psalmist said, "Harden not your hearts,” and it is when my heart is open that I see change happen in my world. Can I be satisfied with changing the world the way I am best equipped or must I be a woman doing big, radical, self-sacrificial things to be effective?

And so my challenge, and question perhaps, is can I allow myself to do the work that brings me joy without feeling that I must embody suffering along the way?

A wise man prompted me to remember one of my favorite quotes and suggested perhaps that is where I am already living. Hmm. Guess I'll keep pondering ☺.

“The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world's deep hunger meet." --Frederick Buechner on vocation

Where does your deep gladness meet the world’s deep hunger?

photos by lucy

Give us this day...

This is a prayer I ran across several weeks ago and wanted to share here this Sunday morning. It is by author Paulo Coelho. Blessings to you this day!

Lord, protect our doubts, because Doubt is a way of praying. It is Doubt that makes us grow because it forces us to look fearlessly at the many answers that exist to one question. And in order for this to be possible…

Lord, protect our decisions, because making Decisions is a way of praying. Give us the courage, after our doubts, to be able to choose between one road and another. May our YES always be a YES and our NO always be a NO. Once we have chosen our road, may we never look back nor allow our soul to be eaten away by remorse. And in order for this to be possible…

Lord, protect our actions, because Action is a way of praying. May our daily bread be the result of the very best that we carry within us. May we, through work and Action, share a little of the love we receive. And in order for this to be possible…

Lord, protect our dreams, because to Dream is a way of praying. Make sure that, regardless of our age or our circumstances, we are capable of keeping alight in our heart the sacred flame of hope and perseverance. And in order for this to be possible…

Lord, give us enthusiasm, because Enthusiasm is a way of praying. It is what binds us to the Heavens and to Earth, to grown-ups and to children, it is what tells us that our desires are important and deserve our best efforts. It is Enthusiasm that reaffirms to us that everything is possible, as long as we are totally committed to what we are doing. And in order for this to be possible…

Lord, protect us, because Life is the only way we have of making manifest Your miracle. May the earth continue to transform seeds into wheat, may we continue to transmute wheat into bread. And this is only possible if we have Love; therefore, do not leave us in solitude. Always give us Your company, and the company of men and women who have doubts, who act and dream and feel enthusiasm, and who live each day as if it were totally dedicated to Your glory.

Amen

photo from google images

a grievous task

As I sat in my living room last night and listened to a friend talk about her experience reading the book of Ecclesiastes, one point in particular stuck with me. It was a phrase she mentioned regarding “this world we must live in until the resurrection”. What I heard was “until heaven gets here, we must endure what is before us.” NO. My internal sensor yelled. I don’t just want to endure and I don’t want to wait. I want to live and I want to experience heaven here and now! Is it possible? I say, YES! (Not, of course, the sugary sweet, angels floating on clouds & playing harps thing ☺).

“And I set my mind to seek and explore by wisdom concerning all that has been done under heaven. It is a grievous task which God has given to the sons of man.” Ecclesiastes 1:13

Seeking and exploring “all that has been done under heaven.” What? Seeking and exploring. Broadening our horizons. To see. To see much is grievous. To live in the dark, is that any less grievous? It hurts to have our eyes opened to the world.

It is a grievous task to seek all AND it is glorious. It is in the seeking and exploring that life happens. Not in simply enduring until the end of the journey. The seeking and exploring speak to heaven and hell on earth. Both/and. So when we take on this grievous task, it is severe and serious. It demands great skill (or at least desire) and resiliency. We are tested and stretched. We must become flexible so that we may bend without breaking. Flexibility defined says that after bending we may not return to our previous shape. (I believe in most cases that is probably not a bad thing.)

It is in the seeking and exploring that we become flexible and more present to “all that has been done under heaven.” Sitting and waiting can atrophy us. (Please know, I am NOT talking about contemplation here.) We become rigid, unchanging and ineffective. To avoid this, we must move. We must journey. Up and down the winding path. In and out. Fluid like the water of a flowing river. It is the journey in which we are cleansed. Washed. Nearly drowned at times. Making splashes by refusing to be complacent. Shedding tears of beauty and tears of sorrow. Journeying with wisdom through the grievous task set before us.

Let us not simply endure and wait. Let us choose to live and experience life here and now.

Peregrinatio

“I’m only lost if I’m going someplace in particular.” Megan Scribner

On a recent night as I lay awake in bed, a gentle stirring suggested I attempt to finally complete Thomas Merton’s, The Seven Storey Mountain. I say “finally” because it has not been an easy read for me. As I was walking the next morning, I thought about Merton and my interaction with his autobiography and realized that is how his journey to the Trappist monastery was—it was not easy. One of the beautiful things about Merton was his ongoing willingness to follow God’s promptings even when he did not necessarily consider himself a follower.

One of the final quotes that resonated with me (and there were many) appeared in the epilogue.

“In one sense we are always traveling, and traveling as if we did not know where we were going.
In another sense we have already arrived.
We cannot arrive at the perfect possession of God in this life, and that is why we are traveling and in darkness. But we already possess Him by grace, and therefore in that sense we have arrived and are dwelling in the light.”

The words ‘already’ and ‘not yet’ come to mind as I read this passage. The yin and the yang. Dark and light. I am reminded of a tapestry that is continually woven with the changing of texture and colors. It may not yet be finished, but it already tells a story. We are fully in Christ and we are nowhere near Him. The both/and. Already and not yet. We are on a pilgrimage with no specific end in mind for we cannot comprehend what the “end” will be like. AND, there is a deep knowing in our soul that speaks to the end even in the present moment.

In Praying with the Elements, Christine Paintner writes of the term: Peregrinatio. (Personally, I just love the sound of the word!) It refers to a journey initiated by an inner prompting, going where the Spirit leads to seek the place of your resurrection. Peregrinatio seems like the most apt word for Merton’s journey.

As I sit on my porch writing, I wonder about my life and how open I am to be on a journey without a specific destination in mind. It seems to be those moments that are the least planned that lead to the greatest surprise and joy. When I think of jumping into the lake with my young charges, I think of peregrinatio. It was not planned yet it felt like baptism. It was holy. It was resurrection.

I pray that I will be open to the subtle promptings in my life this day and every day to follow. Where are you being asked to step into Peregrinatio—the journey with no specific end or goal in mind? Where are you being asked to trust the mystery of life and experience the beauty and wildness of the unknown?

photos by geezer dude

The "And" is always nearby...

Of magic doors there is this, you do not see them even as you are passing through.
--Anonymous

It is night time. Evening. The end of a busy week. Come and gone. Filled with goodness and richness. Still, I am tired. A strong need to restore. Refresh. Rejuvenate. It takes energy to live out loud. AND in the moment, it takes no energy at all. My cup overflows. Friendship. Conversation. Engagement. Music. Sunshine. Scooter rides. Being present to the moment. Lovely and true. My world expanding. Friends. Work. The world at large. Strangers on the street. Engaging. Listening. Loving.

No ordinary moments. All come together in perfect timing and perfect harmony. Not pressing, just letting things happen in the midst of the busyness. AND, I miss my quiet time. My rest. The place where I find peace and solace with myself—for myself. I need me. I love that I do not need others to define who I am AND I love the engagement and realness of being with others.

Sometimes the realness of being with others can be overwhelming and takes me by surprise. Simple spoken words or gestures bring tears to my eyes. The gentle touch of a hug gives peace to a deep place in my soul. A complement confirms my own delight. AND the biting words or cold silence of another threaten to send me into a tailspin. The "and" is always nearby. No ordinary moments.

It is morning now and I am grateful for a little time to rest, reflect and write. The beginning of a new day. Freshly arrived. Waiting to be filled. And...

photo by bill