Spiritual Guidance

So much of the training for a pastor and the expectations of many, at least in the past, have revolved around “doing,” rather than “being” when exploring spiritual wholeness.

Someone comes to the pastor with a need or a hurt or a hope, and the pastor tells them to “do this or do that” because Jesus did it, or because the seminary professor said this is the best way to fix it, or because the latest seminar sponsored by the hierarchy had a sale on spiritual tools.

An unhealthy cycle is promulgated when, for a moment of varying intensity, relief is experienced. The pedestal is erected for the pastor’s ego to be placed upon and the next person with a need or a hurt or a hope is offered the same fix.

Henri Nouwen wrote in Reaching Out:

"The real spiritual guide is the one who, instead of advising us what to do or to whom to go, offers us a chance to stay alone and take the risk of entering into our own experience. He[she] makes us see that pouring little bits of water on our dry land does not help, but that we will find a living well if we reach deep enough under the surface of our complaints." P.36

Who Knew?

I am on a spiritual retreat and during one of our times of worship, just before communion was shared, a story was told of a group of war orphans who, barely existing because of harsh conditions and little food, were quite naturally having difficulty sleeping.

Their caretakers decided to give them each a loaf of bread to sleep with. Assured of food for the next day the children began to sleep soundly each night.

Our spiritual director shared many possibilities from the story related to the experience of God and suggested that we consider which character resonated with us. Which person we felt identified with our own soul. Did the fear of the children touch us or perhaps the caring act of the orphanage workers? What about those who warred against each other?

My imagination transported me to the village where the bread had been baked. I began to remember the time when the door of my bakery was opened and a fragile, limping, old woman entered interrupting the afternoon coffee that my friends, the miller and the wheat farmer, and I had each day. She was asking for donations of food and I simply gave her some misshapen loaves to take with her.

Who knew that lives would be changed? God knew. Who knew that the grain that was grown and ground and baked would have such a comforting effect on those children? God knew. Who knew that the work of our hands would have such an impact on the lives of those children? God knew. Who knew that misshapen lives and misshapen loaves would be turned into such a sacred event as life? God knew.

God knows that it happens all the time.

Awareness

“My essence is not hidden from you, Lord.”

Using a paraphrase of Psalm 19 from Psalms for Praying by Nan Merrill:
“My essence is not hidden from you, Lord.”

It is refreshing to my soul to know that my essence, my very being, is not hidden from God’s Presence. And, that my essence, like the most fragrant, aromatic herb offered in worship as incense enters God’s nostrils and the Lord is pleased with my offering of self. I don’t need to be concerned with who else might or might not recognize my essence, my worth.

That God does is enough.

A Morning Run

O God, my God, how excellent are all your works. Sitting in your Presence I am amazed at the beauty and the absurdity. That I should be a part of Your creation leaves me humbled.

This morning a bit before 6:00 I went for a run on the grassy trails of Mt. Olivet Retreat Center just south of Minneapolis. It is so remarkable to experience the early morning arousing of the world. A raccoon shuffled past exploring the possibilities as a flock of wild turkeys ignored me. A young deer, too old to be a fawn and too young to be an adult, cautiously stepped into the shelter of some evergreens as I trip-tropped along the path. Every footstep, every breath, every creature a wonderment, a miracle, a reflection of The Presence - everything, including me. Such beauty and such absurdity.