The Contemplative Cottage

“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life? And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these.” Matthew 6:25-29

At some point in my past, I learned a strange lesson:  if I worry, I can prevent something bad from happening.

Worry keeps me focused on what could happen so that I am prepared, so that I’ve thought through and scripted every eventuality.

But life just doesn’t work that way.  Ninety-nine percent of the time, all the contingency plans are unnecessary, and the 1% of the time a prediction comes true, the moment itself provides many more surprising and often grace-full resources I could never have anticipated.

A friend of mine once said, “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over, expecting different results.”   Worrying doesn’t make my life any safer or happier, yet I have kept at it, convinced it will.

And I am convinced, more and more, that worry and joy don’t play well together.

Joy lives in the moment, in the sudden smile, the laugh, a loving touch, the sung harmony, the quiet evening, the sparkly snow.  Relationships thrive in the present, watered and nurtured by the unfettered and unexpected joy of simply being together.

One cannot plan or force joy, only be attentive when it happens.  When I am lost in future plans, it’s hard to see what’s right in front of me.

I’ve been told a few times that life begins at 40.  I’m coming to understand this better.  As I get older, I’m less willing to waste precious time on behaviors or patterns which don’t make sense.  As I leave my thirties, I’d like to leave worry behind.

” And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.”  Colossians 3:14-17

Today this verse brought conviction.

To do something in someone’s name is to have the authority of that person for action, but also to act on their behalf–actions that they themselves would do.  “Do everything” is quite explicit–everything I do each day, how I spend my time, is to be done with both a sense of Christ’s authority and on Christ’s behalf.

The still small voice has been gently suggesting over the past year for me to consider how much time I give to screen living–internet, social networking, and Hollywood media.

As I sought God for help discerning whether I am hearing his voice or my own driven perfectionism, the phrase came to mind: Guilt is a bad motivator for change, but a feeling of conviction is a good reason for repentance and prayer. The first puts all the power of change on me, the second puts me in partnership with God. It has helped to take my feeling of conviction to God and pray, rather than embark in my own strength on “10-steps-to-a-new-and-improved-Susan.”

I do not begrudge small doses of  quality entertainment (I have enjoyed excellent series like “Cranford” and “Emma”), but I can see that in my life, it can seep in through the cracks  of loneliness and promise a false sense of connection. And then an hour or hours later, what was gained?

Instead, God whispers:  Come to me, Susan.  Write, sing, pray, call a friend, send a letter, take a walk, take some photos, have a party.

Does this mean I give up all screen life?  No.  But it does mean that I want to prayerfully consider, with God’s help, alternatives and have them at the ready.

Romans 12:1 comes to mind.  “Take your everyday, ordinary life—your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life—and place it before God as an offering.”

God, I give you my time in front of any screen. Help me prune it so that it becomes life-giving and honors your Name.

Good Morning

I often wish I knew how to respond with life-giving and healing words, so as I read through Colossians the past two days, Colossians 4:6 jumped out at me. During lectio divina, a key moment is when a word or a phrase seems to come off the page and my own heart answers with a little flutter, “Yes, I want to know more.”

Let your speech always be gracious, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how you ought to answer everyone.

The English translation is curious, because the direct suggestion “Let your speech…” seems to be followed by an effect, “so that you…”  This didn’t make sense to me—how could I practice a certain kind of speech that would in turn provide knowledge about how to speak?  But looking at the Greek, I realized that I was interpreting “gracious” as a human quality,  akin to cordial or courteous, or hospitable. These are good qualities for conversing, yet knowing how to practice them appropriately in a given situation is tricky.  

Gracious in this context is actually grace, or charis–a divine influence upon the heart.  For me, grace is not an obligation, or something earned, or a gold star for good behavior, but the gift of God’s own presence saying, “I love you.”

The text suggests that the first step of speaking is my heart listening to God’s love for me and for the person with whom I am conversing; that speech flowing out of conversation with God, flowing out of a heart itself salted by God’s “I love you,” will be life-giving and tasty.

Lullaby

I recently read a book called Theological Reflections: Methods, a wonderful exploration of various ways people in the Christian tradition think and feel their way into wisdom as they place life and faith into conversation.  One of the interesting parts, reading excerpts from original sources, was how people use scripture in times of stress or discernment.  I already knew that Augustine’s life changed drastically after hearing the child’s voice in the garden calling, “Tolle lege!”  Take up and read! He opened to a bible verse that acted as a lightning rod for his determination to live differently, and due to his subsequent theological writings, impacted Christianity is enormous ways.  What I did not realize was that this scriptural “casting of lots” was done by two other big names in history.  Francis of Assisi prayed and then opened to a scripture text which led him to begin the Franciscans.  John Wesley of the Methodists notes in his journal how he opened his bible to specific texts that spoke to his situation, went to a service and heard more pivotal texts and found “his heart strangely warmed.”  Wesley’s life changed that night.  While some people may inwardly cringe at this seemingly magical use of scripture, the influence of a specific text at a particular time on a person is undeniable, and can drastically influence the course of history.

Using scripture like this is common in the communities in which I have been a member, even alongside an awareness of the contextual nature of the text and a historical critical approach.  In my own devotional life, there have been a few pivotal moments where I randomly opened to a particular text and found surprising synchronicity.

Last night, after discovering I had missed a crucial source in my dissertation research, I was incredibly discouraged.  While I’m still uncertain how much I will need to change my own proposal, the horrible sinking feeling drove me to prayer and to scripture, and Augustine, Francis, and Wesley were on my mind.   I closed my eyes and opened to 2 Corinthians 1, to a passage I had marked a number of times over the years:

“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and the God of all consolation, who consoles us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to console those who are in any affliction with the consolation with which we ourselves are consoled by God.”

I had already studied this passage before.  Consolation in these verses is paraklesis in the Greek and means  calling to one’s side, giving aid, advocate, interceding, encouraging.  It is also a familiar word, Paraclete is a name for the Holy Spirit.  So we have been consoled not just by God, but with God’s presence, and we can, in turn, console others.  Whatever happens with my topic, the reality is, I can walk through this, and whatever consolation that I’ve received in the process, I can share.  Often, I am my own worst judge when it comes to mistakes, but I believe this passage suggests that God acts as advocate and encourager.  God walks alongside and comforts us in trouble, even when we can’t be kind to ourselves.  The Paraclete God models walking alongside others and gives strength for us to be an embodiment of God’s consolation for those we love.