Over the last weekend I went to the hospital where the doctors put stents into the arteries of my heart. We had discussed it and planned for it. It wasn't even the first time. But something about it put me on edge... it isn't exactly a vacation trip. Now I carry a card in my pocket in case I ever need to go to the hospital. Apparently before I get an MRI the technicians must fine-tune their machines.
Sometimes we go on retreats, which means to take a few days to go off to a place apart and be with the Lord, the object being to let him talk while we listen and learn. I haven't been able to do that for awhile, so God sent me to the hospital and spoke to me through the experience. For the most part, it was a quiet time well-suited for contemplating things like mortality. Scriptures are firm on the point. Nobody gets out of this life in the body they started with. But we are told to live as people who expect good things, the best being the Company of God. What it must be like to stretch out our hand and let him take hold of us, leading us out into the night, into the quiet of the stars, to go wherever he is going. Apparently it is too much for us to imagine, but not too much for us to hope.
Which brings me to an interesting point. We were created in goodness and meant to live our lives in goodness, but we weren't meant (as far as I can tell) to live in this physical form, but perhaps to be transformed to live a greater life. There are three things we can have right now that we will be able to take with us when we cross over into "the land of the living". We take our faith, as much of it as we can hold. We take our hope, whatever way it is. And we take love.
These three things are forever. They are like the bag of gear we take when we go camping. They have everything we need. This life right now is about learning them and how to use them. It's taken me a long time to understand that they can all be used wrongly. We can put our faith in the wrong things, we can hope for the wrong things, and we can certainly love the wrong things. Misdirected, they become warped and harmful, not only to ourselves but to people around us and to our world.
But when we understand these three eternal gifts and learn to use them well, marvelous things happen. The world and the people around us begin to change. I think this is what God always wanted. He wants us to participate in the work of filling out and completing creation, bringing it to its true potential. And this impacts everything we care about and do: politics, economics, ecology, technology, science--it all has a purpose in God's plan. It all has potential for good, for uplifting and transforming life.
It's like, if you light a candle in the darkness then you can go a long way and see the light. If you get to a place where you can almost not see the light and light another candle, then you can go much farther and walk much longer in sight of the light. Imagine covering the world with candles, all placed closely enough that nomatter where you walk you will see the light. That is what God is doing, one life at a time.
We walk with faith in God. We fill our hearts with hope for his work and we let his love shine forth like light. Everywhere we go we bring the light and when we look for it we see the light in others. It is a beautiful sight, to see the whole world glowing like one big Birthday Cake as it goes cruising through the cosmos. That's what God wants. He wants a light in the world...
BTW: I'm fine now. I have to take it easy for a few more days. I must watch what I eat and daily exercise--lots of it--is the plan. It's hard to describe what it's like... I really feel as if I've been given a new heart, or like I've been to the shop for an overhaul. But the real work comes from God's hand, who says "I will place new hearts in you, hearts made for loving."
That's a pretty good deal, don't you think?
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
God's Footprints
We have been offline for about two weeks because of a computer problem. We seem to have come out alright and are getting back up to speed, but it has been quite an experience in an unfamiliar world. These things tend to shake up my complacency. Trust me when I say a lot of praying was involved.
But the demands of solving this problem also made me reflect on whether or not I need so much technology in my life, particularly when I have to spend money maintaining it. How do I ask God to provide in this area? I am now fifty-six years old. On Friday night a woman called me "elderly". That was a bit of a shock, but fair enough, I guess. I'm certainly not a teen and by default, don't have a young person's facility where computers are concerned. If I could blog with my Royal typewriter, I'd do it in a flash.
Moses and Abraham and Isaac all knew what it was like to move from their homeland into unfamiliar territory. That seems like a running theme in the Bible and in Christian life as well. When we give our hearts to God, he may very well move us to new ground, and as I had to make choices about whether or not to proceed with technology in my life, I had to think about whether or not God had a purpose for it.
Because that's what conversion really means. We have finally, at last, "after many wanderings, many years of absence", come to a place where we can see into new country. We are seeing into God's country, God's kingdom, God's world. It's not whether God does or doesn't like computers. They are here. We have to learn to use them with the same faithfulness that we use money or power. God, of course, can figure a way--like this blog. Our modern tools belong to our time. We are meant to use them well. So, if you're there, I'm back. A little chastened, a little more humble (hopefully), and still willing to tell you about our journey.
But the demands of solving this problem also made me reflect on whether or not I need so much technology in my life, particularly when I have to spend money maintaining it. How do I ask God to provide in this area? I am now fifty-six years old. On Friday night a woman called me "elderly". That was a bit of a shock, but fair enough, I guess. I'm certainly not a teen and by default, don't have a young person's facility where computers are concerned. If I could blog with my Royal typewriter, I'd do it in a flash.
Moses and Abraham and Isaac all knew what it was like to move from their homeland into unfamiliar territory. That seems like a running theme in the Bible and in Christian life as well. When we give our hearts to God, he may very well move us to new ground, and as I had to make choices about whether or not to proceed with technology in my life, I had to think about whether or not God had a purpose for it.
Because that's what conversion really means. We have finally, at last, "after many wanderings, many years of absence", come to a place where we can see into new country. We are seeing into God's country, God's kingdom, God's world. It's not whether God does or doesn't like computers. They are here. We have to learn to use them with the same faithfulness that we use money or power. God, of course, can figure a way--like this blog. Our modern tools belong to our time. We are meant to use them well. So, if you're there, I'm back. A little chastened, a little more humble (hopefully), and still willing to tell you about our journey.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
First Letter to JoAnne
"I have sworn and made up my mind to obey your decrees." Psalm 119.
We are companions on this journey. That is a blessing not everyone receives. To be one in heart and mind is within the grasp of our Sacrament. To be seen within the world as Christ, working through us is our greatest gift. We so rarely walk alone.
You have your gifts and I have mine. This is God's will for all of us. But it is also His will that in Communion, the gifts he gives to each of us should be united. This is why we assemble in community to share the common prayers.
The prayers he gives us are life-changing. We embrace them because we want to be changed. We experience the changes differently as He brings out from within us that which He has placed there. Then, in community, we unite our various gifts and the Body is made whole.
Tonight, when I sat down to pray, I knew I was not alone. For everyone who prays is united in the Body of Christ. It is not a function of time or place, or who is or who isn't present. It is the prayer, given to us by Christ, and our willingness to embrace it, that opens us to His love, and allows Him to enter in and transform our lives. We are changed from within. His grace, his plan. We trust Him to do it, and our lives are so much easier and more peaceful.
I know we are both growing. He would not have it otherwise. He wants us here, he wants us to pray and to trust. Everything else, our purpose, our work, and our life will be revealed to us in his time and his way. Keep your heart open. Listen and watch. Pray every day and He will do it.
Thank you for your love, your fellowship, your advice and your peace. In my life there is no one else like you, and no one who so clearly shows His light for me.
I am, Yours, Tom
We are companions on this journey. That is a blessing not everyone receives. To be one in heart and mind is within the grasp of our Sacrament. To be seen within the world as Christ, working through us is our greatest gift. We so rarely walk alone.
You have your gifts and I have mine. This is God's will for all of us. But it is also His will that in Communion, the gifts he gives to each of us should be united. This is why we assemble in community to share the common prayers.
The prayers he gives us are life-changing. We embrace them because we want to be changed. We experience the changes differently as He brings out from within us that which He has placed there. Then, in community, we unite our various gifts and the Body is made whole.
Tonight, when I sat down to pray, I knew I was not alone. For everyone who prays is united in the Body of Christ. It is not a function of time or place, or who is or who isn't present. It is the prayer, given to us by Christ, and our willingness to embrace it, that opens us to His love, and allows Him to enter in and transform our lives. We are changed from within. His grace, his plan. We trust Him to do it, and our lives are so much easier and more peaceful.
I know we are both growing. He would not have it otherwise. He wants us here, he wants us to pray and to trust. Everything else, our purpose, our work, and our life will be revealed to us in his time and his way. Keep your heart open. Listen and watch. Pray every day and He will do it.
Thank you for your love, your fellowship, your advice and your peace. In my life there is no one else like you, and no one who so clearly shows His light for me.
I am, Yours, Tom
Friday, February 26, 2010
The Blue FIres of Dawn
I should explain the title. Years ago JoAnne and I were vacationing at a cabin in the Bradshaw Mountains. Early one morning I walked out to see the sun rise. It was the hour when sailors set their watches, the hour of the first real light. It rises above the horizon like blue flames. Scientists tell me that the sun has two "fires". The familiar sun is the burning ball that rises brilliantly over the line at daybreak. But there is another fire, a huge, blazing cloak of plasma that shoots out and away from the sun millions of miles. This plasma is the color of the flame on my gas stove. It is blue and it emits enough light to appear (on a clear morning) like an immense wall of flame long before the orb rises. It is so immense that the whole eastern horizon looks as if it is on fire. In Arizona, especially in the mountains, the air is so clear you can almost see its folds.
Now, that first time I saw it I was swept away. It's sort of compelling to realize that the sun is much larger than we think, taking that energized sphere of fire into account. And somewhere deep inside it revealed something to me of the nature of God, who is also much bigger than we think. In fact, God is so big, we cannot truly "think" him. We can only stand there and behold. So, whenever I see the Blue Fires of Dawn, I think of God and his glory, which arrives ahead of him and drives away the night.
That's how we'll know he is coming. When his glory appears and we are awakened.
Now, that first time I saw it I was swept away. It's sort of compelling to realize that the sun is much larger than we think, taking that energized sphere of fire into account. And somewhere deep inside it revealed something to me of the nature of God, who is also much bigger than we think. In fact, God is so big, we cannot truly "think" him. We can only stand there and behold. So, whenever I see the Blue Fires of Dawn, I think of God and his glory, which arrives ahead of him and drives away the night.
That's how we'll know he is coming. When his glory appears and we are awakened.
The Quiet
It's funny. The Quiet is so strong, so compelling. I want to write about it but when I try, there is nothing to say, no words. Only the Quiet...
The Quiet is like a person who visits without phoning, not a friend so much as a teacher, but not a teacher so much as a Watcher and a Guide. When the Quiet arrives I look for my shoes and coat. It is time to go somewhere. The Quiet is hard to describe.
There is another, like the Quiet, but even harder to talk about. The Awareness is a moment when everything pauses and nothing seems like itself. The sky, the land, the buildings are all painted pictures on scrim. The whole world is a theater set, an illusion behind which something greater moves. I step out of the moment to stand in the company of the Awareness, to stare at reality waiting for the curtain to go up. Waiting for something even greater than the Quiet to begin. I live surrounded by angels and guides. When they come near, life must pause, for they have the presence of the One I seek within themselves. That is what I am feeling. That is why all the world bows in recognition...
These feelings are brief, and when they leave I feel my real poverty... but I also feel my real wealth. For how can I cry out against the one Who comes when he chooses to withdraw? I am never abandoned, only poor, and my poverty is his poverty. He knows how it feels.
I love the world which is Heaven and its people. I feel like the luckiest wanderer who, coming over a mountain sees the Kingdom at last, spreading out before me. But the Franciscans teach that the Kingdom is also here and now, in and among the people and times of the world. This World is God's self-revelation. We see him everywhere, and He is love. I think of the story of Francis preaching to birds and it doesn't seem so unusual. It says somewhere that we are to proclaim the Gospel to all creatures. I walk out to the garden in the company of the Quiet and my dogs are like bouncing balls, rattling and banging around the yard. Hmm, I think, perhaps a little preaching might be in order here... But I don't know what to say to them, only through my hands, my eyes, a moment of mutual wrestling. God loves us. God loves us, I say. He is here. Do you feel him? Perhaps they don't, but they calm down and move away, giving me some space, giving the Quiet some space to surround me--until the Awareness hits like a wall falling down and I am left gasping with desire. All I can say is "Yes, yes, yes!" That's how it is.
So I have given you a secret from my heart, something I have never told anyone before. The world we see around us, beautiful as it is and filled with love, is not the whole of it. There is more, and we are meant to find it, to hold it in our hearts and our hands. We are meant to "lay hands on it and eat, that we might live". This mystery is the spirit within Eucharist, the ongoing, all-encompassing sacrament of God's presence. "This is the bread that comes down from Heaven, that all people might take hold of it and eat, and live." It is a moment, it is a person, it is a way. It is Christ. He wants us to put our hands on him and know he is with us. That is why we feel the Quiet, his emmisary, who comes to tell us he is coming. The Awareness... well, that, I suppose, is the King himself, coming through the door. I throw myself down, heart and soul, in his presence, hoping he will lift me up. His hands, his arms, his eyes... everything!
The Quiet is like a person who visits without phoning, not a friend so much as a teacher, but not a teacher so much as a Watcher and a Guide. When the Quiet arrives I look for my shoes and coat. It is time to go somewhere. The Quiet is hard to describe.
There is another, like the Quiet, but even harder to talk about. The Awareness is a moment when everything pauses and nothing seems like itself. The sky, the land, the buildings are all painted pictures on scrim. The whole world is a theater set, an illusion behind which something greater moves. I step out of the moment to stand in the company of the Awareness, to stare at reality waiting for the curtain to go up. Waiting for something even greater than the Quiet to begin. I live surrounded by angels and guides. When they come near, life must pause, for they have the presence of the One I seek within themselves. That is what I am feeling. That is why all the world bows in recognition...
These feelings are brief, and when they leave I feel my real poverty... but I also feel my real wealth. For how can I cry out against the one Who comes when he chooses to withdraw? I am never abandoned, only poor, and my poverty is his poverty. He knows how it feels.
I love the world which is Heaven and its people. I feel like the luckiest wanderer who, coming over a mountain sees the Kingdom at last, spreading out before me. But the Franciscans teach that the Kingdom is also here and now, in and among the people and times of the world. This World is God's self-revelation. We see him everywhere, and He is love. I think of the story of Francis preaching to birds and it doesn't seem so unusual. It says somewhere that we are to proclaim the Gospel to all creatures. I walk out to the garden in the company of the Quiet and my dogs are like bouncing balls, rattling and banging around the yard. Hmm, I think, perhaps a little preaching might be in order here... But I don't know what to say to them, only through my hands, my eyes, a moment of mutual wrestling. God loves us. God loves us, I say. He is here. Do you feel him? Perhaps they don't, but they calm down and move away, giving me some space, giving the Quiet some space to surround me--until the Awareness hits like a wall falling down and I am left gasping with desire. All I can say is "Yes, yes, yes!" That's how it is.
So I have given you a secret from my heart, something I have never told anyone before. The world we see around us, beautiful as it is and filled with love, is not the whole of it. There is more, and we are meant to find it, to hold it in our hearts and our hands. We are meant to "lay hands on it and eat, that we might live". This mystery is the spirit within Eucharist, the ongoing, all-encompassing sacrament of God's presence. "This is the bread that comes down from Heaven, that all people might take hold of it and eat, and live." It is a moment, it is a person, it is a way. It is Christ. He wants us to put our hands on him and know he is with us. That is why we feel the Quiet, his emmisary, who comes to tell us he is coming. The Awareness... well, that, I suppose, is the King himself, coming through the door. I throw myself down, heart and soul, in his presence, hoping he will lift me up. His hands, his arms, his eyes... everything!
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Life in the Desert
Spiritually, we behave the same way, only reversed. The lives we make for ourselves are often barren places surrounded by the gardens of God. I'm not sure why we create these grim "realities" for ourselves, but I think it has something to do with the journey. Like children building playhouses in the backyard, we build ourselves imitation lives in an attempt to understand how life works. God wants us to understand, but I wonder if God doesn't sometimes pause on the porch in benevolant amazement before calling us in to supper.
To answer God's call we must abandon our illusions about life; our illusions of war, strife, anger, jealousy, bitterness and rivalry, competition, and perhaps most insidious, independence. We must abandon the dryness and wracking heat of our anger that withers everything we plant before it has a chance to bear fruit. All these illusions are not the truth; they are not in God's house, they are not God's way.
There is an interesting line in the Gospel that Jesus uses when the authorities of his day accused him of misleading the people. He said these teachers were like children singing a song. "We piped and you would not dance; we pretended to die and you would not weep." Jesus was accused for eating and drinking, for enjoying the company of friends--but he never sinned, even with the good things of life. His relationships with people were both tender and firm. His concern was always to lead us out of the desert into abundant lives of grace.
It takes a revolution of the heart. We call it "conversion". The word means "to go across or against". But it is deeper than mere rebellion. It suggests an intimate union with a new way of being, a new way of living that is totally changed, unfamiliar and new. It implies awakening from a dream, throwing off illusions about life and self and where we find meaning. It requires a radical abandonment of illusions of the desert in exchange for the fertile life of God. The tough part is, we are free to continue our game as long as we wish. It's our choice.
Why is conversion so hard? Jesus says it's like a man who plants a field with good grain only to have an enemy come at night to scatter the seed of weeds all over the freshly planted ground. You can't just tear the weeds out when they sprout because you will tear out the good grain as well. Tough gig. For the time of growing, they will grow together--seeds and weeds. When God comes to call us inside, he will send his workers to harvest the wheat, the fruit of our lives. As they do so they will separate out the weeds, everything useless that clung to us and interferred. The grain will be gathered into God's barns. The weeds will be burned. Our soujourn in the desert will be sorted out and cleansed. The question of concern for us is, will God find anything worth keeping?
We are not helpless or without hope. Be clear about that. The Garden that surrounds our lives is real. The Master Gardener lives right next door. We can go to God for advice, tips, tools and supplies. In spite of the weeds, we can learn to grow good crops, abundant harvests. The Bible is like a how-to manual for gardening in desert places and when the time is right, He will make the desert bloom! I've seen it happen. I've walked in the desert after a once-in-twenty-five year winter when it rains every few days for weeks at a time. I've walked on desert lands where in one summer there is nothing to see but burned, glaring rock and the next Spring there were so many wildflowers my feet never touched the ground! I was out with friends one rainy year and we walked for hundreds of yards three feet above the ground because the wildflowers and bushes were so thick. (Excuse me, snakes, but please don't pop out!)
This is how it is with God. His love is so complete, so powerful and so abundant that this illusion we call "life" won't even be recognizeable when he calls us to share his... and we don't have to wait. For a while, yes, we will struggle in a weedy patch we call "our" life. This is God's will and it serves God's purpose. But it isn't the whole of us nor the span of our existence. Even here, even now in the desert, we can experience the abundance of the Garden. This is why Lent is such a puzzle to us. How is it we can labor and sacrifice, and rejoice and exalt at the same time? How is it Lent can be so refreshing if it is a season for determined renewal?
The answers are out in my garden and in the desert that surrounds me. I go with my hoe to participate in the dance of life, which brings life to barren places. I go out farther with my hat and water bottle to walk on the desert and know that all around me the seeds are sleeping, sometimes for years, waiting for the rains to come, for the arrival of God's Spirit which breaks open and renews the earth. It is a wonderful job, just watching, seeing how He does it, knowing that out there, just across the fence, he's gardening too. And it's a wonderful garden indeed. Sometimes, when the wind is right, you can smell the flowers...
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Blog Bits
We are converting a spare room to make a small chapel. We've wanted to do this for many years but God wanted to celebrate "space" in our life by filling it with people, usually people who needed a place to sleep. This has diminshed and the room is empty. So we talk about what we will put into the space; how we will fill it. Today a friend of ours is bringing over a sewing machine on which his wife, recently deceased, used to sew. JoAnne used to sew and wants to take it up again. But first she wants to put the sewing machine in the chapel, with a candle and a picture or statue. A juxtaposition of faith and utility. To me it seems very Franciscan. When it arrives (and when I can find a camera) I will make a picture of it so you can see...
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Today is February 23. It is time for Spring to begin. Spring is late. Usually by the 16th we can all feel the change. It draws the heart out of the house to go walking, miles upon miles, through the blustery nights. But not this year. We are cold and wet and grey and very un-Arizona-like. And I'm complaining, like I have not right to do, since everywhere else in the country Winter is a real experience whereas ours is only make-believe...
---
Do Franciscans get heartburn? I do. It wakes me up at night. I know the doctor has pills for this, but I'm tired of taking pills. I could make necklaces out of all the pills I take every day. Economically I could take steps to reduce the cost and complexity of this issue, but it means entering into a new partnership with my insurance company, which, strangely, I am reluctant to do. Anyone out there who works in the insurance industry may understand this problem. We are changing as a cultural economy and it doesn't happen easilly. Insurance is now part of our daily healthcare. There are always three people in the doctor's office, and we who have the sore throat or aching back no longer seem to play a major role. The Doctors must form relationship with the Insurers, and both of them must at least be on speaking terms with the Employers. People, these days, are mere baskets of physical complaints. They dump out the goods on a table, sort through them, argue about who gets what, and the bag gets tossed aside. If you don't believe me, try talking to your physician. If he doesn't flee the room at the sound of a voice coming from the examining table, you've found a rare relationship...
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Nurses, however, have souls. And perhaps because of their daily ministry, I sense souls growing among doctors and insurance companies. Employers, by my reckoning, remain unmoved.
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If you would like to forward this blog to others, please feel free. That's what it's here for. Like planting a seed, I hope it will grow and bear fruit.
Tom
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Today is February 23. It is time for Spring to begin. Spring is late. Usually by the 16th we can all feel the change. It draws the heart out of the house to go walking, miles upon miles, through the blustery nights. But not this year. We are cold and wet and grey and very un-Arizona-like. And I'm complaining, like I have not right to do, since everywhere else in the country Winter is a real experience whereas ours is only make-believe...
---
Do Franciscans get heartburn? I do. It wakes me up at night. I know the doctor has pills for this, but I'm tired of taking pills. I could make necklaces out of all the pills I take every day. Economically I could take steps to reduce the cost and complexity of this issue, but it means entering into a new partnership with my insurance company, which, strangely, I am reluctant to do. Anyone out there who works in the insurance industry may understand this problem. We are changing as a cultural economy and it doesn't happen easilly. Insurance is now part of our daily healthcare. There are always three people in the doctor's office, and we who have the sore throat or aching back no longer seem to play a major role. The Doctors must form relationship with the Insurers, and both of them must at least be on speaking terms with the Employers. People, these days, are mere baskets of physical complaints. They dump out the goods on a table, sort through them, argue about who gets what, and the bag gets tossed aside. If you don't believe me, try talking to your physician. If he doesn't flee the room at the sound of a voice coming from the examining table, you've found a rare relationship...
---
Nurses, however, have souls. And perhaps because of their daily ministry, I sense souls growing among doctors and insurance companies. Employers, by my reckoning, remain unmoved.
---
If you would like to forward this blog to others, please feel free. That's what it's here for. Like planting a seed, I hope it will grow and bear fruit.
Tom
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