The less you speak the better

Ecclesiastes 5:2 Don't be too quick to tell God what you think he wants to hear. God's in charge, not you -- the less you speak the better.

This was the reading for my Sabbath rest last Sunday, and it really struck me how often my prayer life consists of a lot of jabbering away at God: praying intercessions for friends who are ill or in distress, petitioning for my own needs, even counting my blessings and praising God can be about a lot of words and chatter in my head. It's not that it's wrong to do those things, it's just that all those words and stories, the incessant stream of verbiage, can become a wall that serves to keep God out. I think that is the place of contemplative practices, like writing sacred icons. I worked on mine yesterday, and I entered into such a space of deep peace. As I prayerfully work with my hands, my mind empties and becomes open to God's indwelling. It helps me drop the wall, let go of it, and allow space, time, silence and emptiness. Then God has room to enter in.

It reminded me of a poem, which is framed on my wall. Mary Oliver expresses it much better than I can:

Praying

It doesn't have to be
the blue iris, it could be
weeds in a vacant lot or a few
small stones; just
pay attention, then patch

a few words together and don't try
to make them elaborate, this isn't
a contest but the doorway

into thanks and, a silence in which
another voice may speak.

Prayer: Dear God, Remind me that my purpose today is to listen and be open to You so that I may dwell in Your Presence. Amen.

A Flourishing Tree

Proverbs 11:28 A life devoted to things is a dead life, a stump; a God-shaped life is a flourishing tree.

Proverbs is just full of pithy phrases like this one, that captures the essence of the expansive joy that comes from a life centered around God. I think people's ideas about a God-centered life are all about what one has to give up -- and there is no doubt that to really engage with a spiritual path does involve a certain kind of discipline. There is a giving up of easy pleasure for a joy that is more sustaining and less self-destructive. There is the imperative to keep engaging with spiritual practices, even when they seem dry, because in the long run they keep you on the path. There is the value of persisting at a challenging task because the ultimate fulfillment proves so much more satisfying partly because of that effort and commitment.

Before I had my son, it seemed to me that all the messages about having children were about the trouble they demanded; all the things I would have to give up, like time to do whatever I wanted, or a good night's sleep; all the challenges they would provide. It wasn't until after I held him and took care of his every need that I feel madly and deeply in love with him and discovered the joy and riches of being a parent. Like the spiritual path, being a parent is deeply challenging; a kid will call into question your most basic values and understanding about what life is all about. It is also about the most rewarding and satisfying experience I can imagine, because it demands all of what I am.

In short, a life with god at its center expands and enriches your experience; put anything else there, whether pleasure or wealth or accumulation or even achievement and you've got less, a restricted life, a life that sucks itself dry, that eats its own tail, that falls back on nothing.

Prayer: Dear God, It is challenging at times to stay committed to the path I walk with You. Help me remember the rich, fulfilling life You offer in return for my faithfulness; that though the gate is narrow, the reward is expansive. Amen

Don't assume you know it all

Proverbs 3:7 Don't assume you know it all.

I think almost any circumstance I am part of can benefit from this piece of wisdom. Whether in conversations with my family, professional and work situations, or in my activities at church, I in particular need to remember that I don't know it all. Often I'm so full of my own ideas, that I burst out with them, obliterating other people's ideas and even their desire to participate. Then I lose the opportunity to learn from them, to broaden my perspective, to hear some of the many stories outside of my own experience. I have had to work hard to counteract this tendency, to step back so that others can step forward, to appreciate the value to ME of what others have to say, and not simply focus on the excitement and joy I get from my own process of thinking things out.

I think we Christians can benefit also from recognizing that we have much to learn from other's experiences. Too often the voice of Christianity in the culture is strident and all-knowing, leaving no room to invite those outside the fold to share their knowledge and convictions. My Rector often says that the Church is the one institution which exists primarily for those outside its walls; Jesus often spent time with the marginalized of his culture, approaching them with compassion and grace. I'm not suggesting that people put aside their own conviction about their faith, but just to recognize that hitting people over the head with how right we are doesn't invite them to engage with us, that humility about the limits of our knowing is a surer path to real dialogue than a stance that says I've already got everything figured out. And in fact, even as a Christian, even as one who feels a sure conviction about my faith, can I really say that I know the mind of God?

Prayer: Dear God, It's so easy to rest in my own understanding of my faith, and forget that You and Your Ways are as far above me as the potter is above the clay, as the shepherd is above the sheep. Help me keep my own knowing in its proper perspective in the context of Your Unfathomable Being. Amen.

A Wildly Wonderful World!

Psalm 104:24 What a wildly wonderful world, God! You made it all with wisdom at your side, made earth overflow with your wonderful creations!

I was at a dinner last night honoring the Brothers of Mt. Calvary, the monastery which was burned to the ground in Santa Barbara last year. One of the brothers is a master calligrapher, and had set a wonderful Billy Collins poem in his beautiful hand. Perhaps it was that event that made the world seem so fresh and new this morning, a sense of lightness, of joy and gratitude sustaining my heart. Perhaps it was the experience of being with the Brothers, who despite the devastating loss of their home and all it contained, seem buoyed by love in everything they do. Whatever the case, I can think of nothing which better reflects the wonder of life than this poem.

Aimless Love

This morning as I walked along the lakeshore,
I fell in love with a wren
and later in the day with a mouse
the cat had dropped under the dining room table.

In the shadows of an autumn evening,
I fell for a seamstress
still at her machine in the tailor’s window,
and later for a bowl of broth,
steam rising like smoke from a naval battle.

This is the best kind of love, I thought,
without recompense, without gifts,
or unkind words, without suspicion,
or silence on the telephone.

The love of the chestnut,
the jazz cap and one hand on the wheel.

No lust, no slam of the door –
the love of the miniature orange tree,
the clean white shirt, the hot evening shower,
the highway that cuts across Florida.

No waiting, no huffiness, or rancor –
just a twinge every now and then

for the wren who had built her nest
on a low branch overhanging the water
and for the dead mouse,
still dressed in its light brown suit.

But my heart is always propped up
in a field on its tripod,
ready for the next arrow.

After I carried the mouse by the tail
to a pile of leaves in the woods,
I found myself standing at the bathroom sink
gazing down affectionately at the soap,

so patient and soluble,
so at home in its pale green soap dish.
I could feel myself falling again
as I felt its turning in my wet hands
and caught the scent of lavender and stone.

~ Billy Collins ~

Prayer: Dear God, Every moment is full of Your Splendour if I will only open my eyes and my heart. Keep me mindful of the wonder and joy of Your Creation, even as I go about my daily life. Amen.