What is a sacred space?

I think creating "sacred space" is different from what I used to think it was.

Isn't it this space, this special place set aside for meeting God, a place reserved for Him, for encountering Him? Isn't it this mindset of quiet and rest that is ushered in with the lighting of a candle and the rehearsing of my heart's preparatory prayer? Isn't it the time each day that I settle into who my God is and who I am in relation to Him?

Or is there something more?

What if these things make it easier for me to recognize a sacred space but they do not make the space sacred? For is it not the presence of Jesus, the fragrance of his very presence permeating, filling this place that makes it sacred? Have I not in fact made the mistake the Pharisees did in thinking that the things here or my actions here serve to set aside and sanctify this place; but instead, it is the very presence of Jesus meeting with me, his beloved, that makes this place special. Is it not so in the everyday of life?

Just as a candle burning in a room even when unseen can permeate it with its fragrance, the frangrance of my God can (and does) fill the air of my ordinary day. And if he is there, then that place is just as sacred as my special place at home. And if this is true, my lack of awareness of his presence means I am missing opportunities to experience his presence, to see his work, to join in when invited, to know him better.

O, Jesus, my Lover-God, open my heart's eyes to see and know you throughout this day.

What keeps me from expressing my creative voice?

The following is a result of a writing prompt at tonight’s Reflective Souls gathering:

It is interesting that not creating, not being creative, causes such tension inside of me. I notice it as a physical change with a short-tempered response to life. I think engaging in the creative process of writing is freedom that comes like a deep breath followed by the slow exhale of release. When circumstances, people, schedules, other’s demands box me in, imprison me, the confines of it all comes out in physical ways (muscle tension, body aches, a sense of anxiety, edginess).

So, what keeps me from expressing my creative voice? Time demands and schedule restrictions limit my freedom for time to be creative.

Expressing this part of me feels like freedom in other ways, too. When I write, when I am creative, I feel validated; I feel connected with the One who made me, placing this bent in me. And when I don’t express this part of me, I am denying me, denying the me that God, my Creator, made me to live as His image bearer.

So, what keeps me from expressing my creative voice? Sin.

A schedule of over commitment, failing to say, “No” to other’s requests; all because of fear of letting others down, disappointing them, or fear of losing their acceptance/friendship/love.

The primary sin is that of failing to keep my focus on Jesus and His call on my life to live my values – my value of sacred margin, my value of intimate relationship with Him as my Priority.

Thank You, Father, for me; for who you have made me to be, all You have placed in me to live into, all You desire me to express as Your daughter.

What love, what boundless love that has shaped this creature!

Lord, cause me to not deny You by denying me.

Thank you to the other Reflective Souls present tonight that encouraged me to post this and therefore more deeply consider the longings of my heart.

learning to be

As the wick of a candle
so let me be,
present,
surrounded by You
the source of all power, light, meaning.

As the wick of a candle
so let me be,
changed,
even scarred by the work,
the flame of circumstances.

As the wick of a candle
so let me be,
essential,
fulfilling my role
a light for a dark world.

As the wick of a candle
so let me be,
engaged,
mysteriously involved
apart of the ongoing work of God.

affirmation

The Dark Night of the Soul, Gerald May – As our dark nights deepen, we find ourselves recovering our love of mystery. When we were children, most of us were good friends with mystery. The world was full of it and we loved it. Then we grew older, we slowly accepted the indoctrination that mystery exists only to be solved. For many of us, mystery became an adversary; unknowing became a weakness. The contemplative spiritual life is an ongoing reversal of this adjustment. It is a slow and sometimes painful process of becoming “as little children” again, in which we first make friends with mystery and finally fall in love again with it. And in that love we find an ever increasing freedom to be who we really are in identity that is continually emerging and never defined. We are freed to join the dance of life in fullness without having a clue about what the steps are. (Mystery becomes no longer something to be conquered but rather to be explored.)

My prayer of longing breathed two weeks ago, affirmed in the above reading today.
Now, oh Lord, may my ache for you that is beyond description find its rest within the embrace of your mystery, and may I live into the uniqueness of me within your tapestry of transformative community synergistically influencing this world.

It is sometimes good to see that in the midst of things and feelings and knowings that you cannot find words to explain, you have not gone off the spiritual deep end.

Gnats have to be part of the Fall, right?

Today seemed like a good day to get outside; and so, I decided to walk one of the trails at Rocky Ridge – soon after starting on my chosen route a gnat joined me. I didn’t pay too much attention to him as I was enjoying the various shades of green, the bits of sun peaking through the trees, the squirrels and chipmunks. It was great! A real gift from God after such a hard week of struggling with my lack.

But as I continued, my little gnat friend called some of his friends to join us, and then a few more, and then a few more, and before I knew it there was an entire gnat party circling my head. I don’t know what they were discussing, but it must have been important because it just kept getting louder as they continued to dart past my ears, zooming past my nose and playing dodge ball with my eye lashes.

What began as a small little speck of a bug, more of a necessary annoyance here in the woods became a total intrusion on my solitude and SILENCE! There is NO WAY this pesky mob was part of God’s creative plan. They must have come along with the Fall, and I can’t imagine there being any redemptive potential in them.

And so, by this time I’m trudging up a hill, hot, dripping sweat and trying to fan off the increasingly dense mist of gnats when I suddenly remember that I’m the big noisy monster trekking through their quiet, peaceful homeland. Maybe this is their way of saying hello, or perhaps they find my scent attractive, ya know, like those flies on the two piles of horse droppings on the trail I am passing as I think about this. Although I disturbed the flies as I missed their prize, thankfully they didn’t feel compelled to join the party (some hope that my stench hasn’t reached that level, although I have to wonder the way I’ve been at work lately).

Soon the trail takes a turn leading me into an open area where the sun is shining brightly, and the light breeze that previously could only be seen over head is now gently hitting my face. I soon realize my entourage has dissipated.

Is this not the way it is in life – at least in mine? The small nuisances can be tolerated in the beginning but they always seem to multiply. I start to wonder if they are ever going to get the idea that they are not welcome, and as the personal struggle becomes more intense, the pesky little irritations also increase. And in this case at least, I wonder if the issue is that I am the one intruding where I don’t belong.

As the change in direction and therefore the change in environment forces the gnats to stay behind, perhaps some of my current irritations that daily bite and pester and buzz in my ears will be forced to remain behind as I take a new path. I know that there will always be some (and at times many) points of irritation because there is a stench in me that draws them out, but perhaps I will begin to be more like a flower drawing a bee than evidence of a horse’s path wooing a fly.

Darn, I'm going to have to admit God DID create gnats since He just used them redemptively in my life.

Beyond

The light of day is growing and as the darkness fades I am startled to realize you aren’t there. My gaze shifts like darts trying to pierce the remaining darkness, hoping the veil will lift so I can find you, to know again that you are with me as you have been all these dark days.

Fear begins to cast its shadow over me. (How strange to now in the light sense fear, fear that was not there when I sat in the darkness of uncertainty.) I feel like I need to stand, to move on, but how?

Where are you?!

Move? How can I move? I don’t know the way. What if I choose the wrong direction and I don’t find you, then what will I do?

Besides, I want to stay in the peace I had known before, your love surrounding me as before. Staying here seems safe, comfortable. Everything else is uncertain, too many choices, too much doubt. I can’t risk it. Too little time to be wrong.

Coming up behind me, you brush against me as you pass on into the underbrush along a path just before me. I suddenly realize this is the ONLY path, the only way to go. Yet, is this real? Can this be true? After all of this time are we really moving on? That path seems too good to be true, it must be false. Shouldn’t I stay and wait for your return so I can be sure?

Just before you disappear into the shadows cast by the light of the breaking day, you look back to catch my eye and call, “C’mon, deb. Let’s go.”

Like a shot I go scrambling after you. The path of calling has become clear and it doesn’t even matter where we are going. The context doesn’t matter, only the living. Even as my pace quickens to catch up, the joy of this new life overwhelms me and the tears begin to flow. As all you have created me to be meets all you have for me to do, I am undone. Words fail me. Emotions are insufficient. There is nothing to express all I feel as I am enveloped by the flood of a love so abundant, so gracious, so personal.



True to your word, you let me catch my breath and send me in the right direction. . . . [For] your love chases after me everyday of my life. - - Ps 23 from The Message

When your longing becomes a prayer, expect an answer

Reviewing my journal I found the following prayer, quoted from The Sacrament of the Present Moment, recorded on January 6 of this year:

Mystify me, arouse and confuse me. Shatter all my illusions and plans so that I lose my way, and see neither path nor light until I have found You.

Light darkness

I have been walking through a place of darkness. My surroundings obscured, but my progress unhindered by the lack of definition as a light has been continually cast before my steps leading me on like a flashlight beam directed at the stepping stones of a path through a darkened wood. During this time I have learned to trust the goodness of the one holding the light to continue to lead, continue to guide although the clarity of my way has recently been diminishing. The light has become ever softer, the darkness denser around me, my pace slowing. I found myself straining to see the next place my foot was to go as the strength of the light faded; yet amazingly I remained as rest, peacefully focused.
And now I find myself seated in a deep, starless, moonless darkness, held in place by a lack of direction, a lack of knowing the way for all lights have gone out, and I cannot even make out the rough outline of my closest surroundings. With this, there is a deep stillness, a quiet that is equivalent to my ears as the darkness is to my eyes.
Something brushes past my arm creating a stirring of air across my cheek, a movement from an unseen source, but as if expected, it does not startle me. I strain to see, but only the dark. As if with intention after a time, I feel this one again passing close enough to touch my still form, and this time not only is there no fear, but instead a glimpse of joy.
The deepness of this dark is impenetrable. No hint of form or shape, path or direction. I close my eyes, allowing my other senses to more fully engage, and as I do, I find that I am surrounded by brightness. Quickly, I open them again and find the darkness is still all around me. Again, closing my eyes, the light returns. I allow myself to stay this time, and I begin to feel a warmth like a midday sun falling on my face. Settling into this warmth, it envelopes me like a blanket on a cool day.
Again one brushing past me, but this time before moving on, a hand briefly caressing my face, it takes my breath away as I sense the touch of perfect love.
Opening my eyes to see who is there, finding again only the deep dark. I remain still, quiet, at peace, aware of the activity of love.
The darkness, the lack of direction, the questions of uncertainty remain, but in the midst of this is the bright light of a presence beyond description, a tangible, absolutely real experience of Jesus I could not otherwise know.
Is this the Dark Night of the Soul of which I have heard?

Being mentored by God

aware
no doubt
He is present.

can you hear Him?
really hear Him?
active listening.
listening in action.

darkness
impenetrable.
is this also good?
bright circumstances turned dark.
His character?
in all still good.

aware
no doubt
He is present.

like a fountain, a river, an ocean
Love flowing free
unhindered.
His conduit of love.
am I?

a light breeze
coming,
going.
breathing in,
out.
a steady rhythm.
soothing,
peaceful,
pulsating.
Life so close.
His life so near.
an embrace
beyond description.

aware
no doubt
He is present.

Inspired by the photographic artistry of Lynn Royer

Yellows and browns, their lines streaming upward toward the sky – speckled with blue green mist. Lines reaching downward with grace flowing toward the earth below – a beautiful pattern drawn by “chance” on this canvas of nature. A golden yellow canvas spattered with paints of aqua, fine as lace.

Do you not see my artwork, how I have made you?

Beautiful!

A dead leaf? No, colors of brilliance! The colors of a sunrise and the misty green of the sea or of a forest, full of life and expectancy for a new day.

Is this not my life – redeeming – reclaiming that which has fallen as dead becoming the background for a work of beauty of the master artist.

Know you are mine, my work of art, not yet complete but already appreciated – cherished – valued – worthy – loved.

His will

God's order, his pleasure, his will, his action and grace, all these are one and the same. . . . What he ordains for us each moment is what is most holy, best, and most divine for us. . . . What was best a moment ago is so no longer. . . All we need to know is how to recognize his will in the present moment. --de Caussade

My desire

to learn to wait

to be fully present

to be

Clouds of Life

. . . sanctification consists of enduring moment by moment all the trials and tribulation it brings, as though they were clouds behind which God lay concealed.

Often I have considered the circumstances and struggles of the day to be these clouds that obscure my site, hiding the One I desire to see clearly, frustrated and even angry at the situation or myself for allowing such things to keep me from Jesus. These are times of longing, desiring my vision to be made clear. As I sit and wait there are no solutions, no answers. I long for the One in whom all peace and contentment and joy are found. My thoughts wander, anticipating the future, anxious for the present to be gone, for these obscuring clouds to be blown away, for the next moment to come, to have time with Him, to rest.

. . . since it is God’s work, if allowed to take its course, it will justify the consequences. . . . We must therefore allow each moment to be the cause of the next; the reason for what precedes being revealed in what follows, so that everything is linked firmly and solidly together in a divine chain of events.

What if, I choose to embrace the moment instead of wishing for its passing? Despite my inability to see, is not God right there although obscured by this mist? Am I willing to risk grasping air? Am I willing to reach into and through the pain, the struggle, the circumstance and situation into the unknown and possibly touch Him for whom my heart longs? Is it not worth the risk? What if through the engaging of the moment in active pursuit of his presence, that the priceless jewel of the present moment is discovered? Could it be that the blind reach of faith reveals truths of Him not otherwise known?

The Choice – sit passively waiting and longing to see him when this current struggle passes and my vision and time are again clear, or – actively engage this present moment, reaching into the unknown, risking injury and pain, but knowing that if I can but touch Him I will be made whole.

Quotes taken from The Sacrament of the Present Moment by Jean-Pierre de Caussade