1 For the choir director: A psalm of David. O LORD, you have examined my heart and know everything about me.
2 You know when I sit down or stand up. You know my thoughts even when I’m far away.
3 You see me when I travel and when I rest at home. You know everything I do.
4 You know what I am going to say even before I say it, LORD.
5 You go before me and follow me. You place your hand of blessing on my head.
6 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too great for me to understand!
7 I can never escape from your Spirit! I can never get away from your presence!
8 If I go up to heaven, you are there; if I go down to the grave, you are there.
9 If I ride the wings of the morning, if I dwell by the farthest oceans,
10 even there your hand will guide me, and your strength will support me.
11 I could ask the darkness to hide me and the light around me to become night–
12 but even in darkness I cannot hide from you. To you the night shines as bright as day. Darkness and light are the same to you.” (Psalm 139:1-12, New Living Translation)
Friday, January 5, 2018
This morning, my devotions took an exceedingly quirky turn. I am going on a personal weekend retreat with my good friend, Jerome, at Gethsemani. I read the following in my 3-minute retreat from the Jesuits:
“Before you begin, spend several moments in silence. Take a few slow, deep breaths. Allow God’s presence to reveal itself in you.”
These are similar to most of these 3-minute retreats. However, for some reason, the words “Allow God’s presence to reveal itself in you” riveted me. I was suddenly overwhelmed with the Reality—the Reality that God was completely, redemptively present everywhere and everywhen in the universe. He filled my little room, my little self, the most distant galaxies, everything. I was filled with, possessed by, wonder and joy.
And then, I read the following meditation from Richard Rohr (who is a Franciscan and not at Jesuit, by the way):
“Week One
Introduction: Image and Likeness
Where Is God?
Friday, January 5, 2018
When I was on retreat at Thomas Merton’s hermitage at Gethsemani Abbey in 1985, I had a chance encounter that has stayed with me all these years. I was walking down a little trail when I recognized a recluse, what you might call a hermit’s hermit, coming toward me. Not wanting to intrude on his deep silence, I bowed my head and moved to the side of the path, intending to walk past him. But as we neared each other, he said, “Richard!” That surprised me. He was supposed to be silent. How did he know who I was? “Richard, you get chances to preach and I don’t. Tell the people one thing.” Pointing to the sky, he said, “God is not ‘out there’!” Then he said, “God bless you,” and abruptly continued down the path.
The belief that God is “out there” is the basic dualism that is tearing us all apart. Our view of God as separate and distant has harmed our relationships with sexuality, food, possessions, money, animals, nature, politics, and our own incarnate selves. This loss explains why we live such distraught and divided lives. Jesus came to put it all together for us and in us. He was saying, in effect, “To be human is good! The material and the physical can be trusted and enjoyed. This physical world is the hiding place of God and the revelation place of God!”
Far too much of religion has been about defining where God is and where God isn’t, picking and choosing who and what has God’s image and who and what doesn’t. In reality, it’s not up to us. We have no choice in the matter. All are beloved. Everyone—Catholic and Protestant, Christian and Muslim, black and white, gay and straight, able-bodied and disabled, male and female, Republican and Democrat—all are children of God. We are all members of the Body of Christ, made in God’s image, indwelled by the Holy Spirit, whether or not we are aware of this gift.
Can you see the image of Christ in the least of your brothers and sisters? This is Jesus’ only description of the final judgment (Matthew 25). But some say, “They smell. They’re a nuisance. They’re on welfare. They are a drain on our tax money.” Can we see Christ in all people, even the so-called “nobodies” who can’t or won’t play our game of success? When we can see the image of God where we don’t want to see the image of God, then we see with eyes not our own.
Jesus says we have to love and recognize the divine image even in our enemies. Either we see the divine image in all created things, or we don’t see it at all .Once we see God’s image in one place, the circle keeps widening. It doesn’t stop with human beings and enemies and the least of our brothers and sisters. It moves to frogs and pansies and weeds. Everything becomes enchanting with true sight. We cannot not live in the presence of God. We are totally surrounded and infused by God. All we can do is allow, trust, and finally rest in it, which is indeed why we are “saved” by faith—faith that this could be true.
Gateway to Presence:
If you want to go deeper with today’s meditation, take note of what word or phrase stands out to you. Come back to that word or phrase throughout the day, being present to its impact and invitation.”
These “coincidences” during my devotions strike me as hardly being coincidental. In any case, they invite me to think of God (and everyone and everything else in the universe) differently.
I am not so good at recognizing God everywhere, everywhen, and in everyone. However, I’m working on it!
When I was little, I used to have “vowel movements.”
No, that is not a misprint. I meant what I typed: I used to have vowel movements.
My mom disliked most of the words we use for our bodily eliminatory functions. So, she taught me to use the expression “bowel movement.” However, I misheard her, and thought she was saying “vowel movement.”
At that point, the die was cast: I was born to be fascinated with words. (I was about to write that I am very wordy person, which is also true, I’m afraid.)
As an indication of that fascination with words, I present to you the most recent exhibit: When I used the expression “the die was cast” in the preceding paragraph, I “had to” look up the expression “the die was cast,” to see where it came from. (Really? I “had to” to look it up?) It turns out that the expression is first documented in Suetonius, who used it for Julius Caesar’s decision to cross the Rubicon, which initiated a civil war in the Roman Republic.
Oh, my, where was I?
Oh, yeah! The continually satisfying love of God! Titles are a wonderful way of getting me back on track.
My 3-Minute Retreat (Loyola Press) referred me to Revelation 21:5 this morning.
“And the one sitting on the throne said, ‘Look, I am making everything new!’ And then he said to me, ‘Write this down, for what I tell you is trustworthy and true.’” (New Living Translation)
So, of course, this provoked a sort of “vowel movement,” which involved consonants as well. I looked up Revelation 21:5 in my Greek New Testament. The phrase “I am making” was, as I thought I remembered, a present tense, which indicates a continual action. God is constantly making all things new! Yes!
But I also thought of John 6:35, which emphasizes the need for us to do some things continually.
“Jesus replied, ‘I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry again. Whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.’” (New Living Translation)
Jesus’ words do not mean that one “who comes to me once” will never hunger; rather it is the one “who keeps coming” who is satisfied. It isn’t the one “who believes in me once”; it is the “who keeps believing” whose thirst is quenched.
There are times, I suspect, when we all feel as if, “Well I tried God, and it didn’t work for me.”
I don’t mean to be unkind, but I have a question for you (which is also a question for my own heart): SO FREEKIN’ WHAT!!) Do you really think—do I really think—that experiencing God is such a casual affair?
Well, truth to tell, I do sometimes think that way. I want God to be a very casual friend with very intimate benefits. How stupid can I be? Pretty stupid!
I remember a Zen story that goes something like this:
A young man went to an old teacher, because the young man had heard that the old teacher—despite some unorthodox techniques—really had some worthwhile things to teach casual seekers after enlightenment.
When the “seeker” encountered the old teacher, he was led to the river. The man thought that the teacher was going to introduce him to some sort of baptism or ablution.
Sure enough, as soon as they waded out in the shallow water a short way, the teacher shoved the man under the water. The man barely time to catch a breath before his head was under the water.
However, the teacher did not bring him back up quickly. In fact, the teacher didn’t bring the young man up at all. He kept holding the seeker’s head under the water.
Finally, the man being “baptized” realized what was going on. The old man wasn’t baptizing him; the old man was trying to drown him. He began to struggle, but the old man was surprisingly strong. Finally, with his last remaining strength, the younger man planted his feet as best he could in the soft mud of the river’s bottom, and thrust upward with all his might. When he was above water, and the old man let go of him.
After taking a couple of gasping breaths, the young man shouted at the teacher, “You wicked old man! You tried to drown me!”
The old teacher looked at the young man in the eye, and said calmly, “Young man, when you want to be enlightened as much as you wanted to breathe just now, come back and we’ll talk.”
God loves us all. I believe that with all my heart.
But I also believe that it is only the diligent seekers who experience that love.
Wanta breathe?
The other morning was very cold, and some of the side streets were pretty icy. So, it was a bad day to have car trouble. But I did have trouble very briefly. I thought things were going to be serious, but fortunately they weren’t.
When I was leaving my 12-step meeting, I pulled out on the street, even though there was a car coming. However, the car was going slowly and was pretty far away, so I figured I had plenty of time. Silly me!
Suddenly, the engine was running very sluggishly, so I pushed harder on the accelerator. The engine pulled down even more. I took the car out of gear, thinking that I had it in a higher gear. I made sure it was in drive, and stepped on the pedal.
Nothing! It slowed down even more. The other car (you remember: the one that had been going slowly and was quite a ways away?) was a lot closer now, and seemed to be picking up speed.
And finally, just in time, I figured out what the problem was: It was cold and I was cold and I was so bundled up I could hardly feel anything. This meant that I was unwittingly stepping on the brake, not the accelerator.
This is, in some measure, the story of my life: driving with my foot on the brake. And the brake is also called “fear.” I have lived too much of life in a fear-based manner. As with my near wreck, driving with the brake on is not necessarily a safe thing to do.
Now, don’t misunderstand: Fear can be a good thing. It all depends on what or who I’m afraid of, and how I respond to that fear. Fearing to do evil is a good thing. Fearing to take stupid, unnecessary risks is another good form of fear. Fearing God (in the sense of reverencing God and obeying God) is good.
Fearing anything else is like driving with the brake on. It is not simply that most fear does not help. Most fear is positively dangerous!
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