by Liz | Jun 18, 2008 | main
In Kings I there is the story of Elijah looking for the Lord to pass by his cave – there’s a fierce wind, but the Lord is not in the wind, then there is an earthquake that shakes the earth, but the Lord isn’t in the earthquake. After the earthquake is a great fire, but the Lord isn’t in the fire. Finally, there is a tiny whispering sound, and Elijah knows that is the Lord passing by.
For the past week, I’ve been trying to hear the whisper mostly by pausing and checking “Am I still breathing?” — in the quiet space that creates, I can sometimes hear the whisper. I can rest there and know that God is present. I discover the I am present in the moment.
What calm, what joy comes from those few seconds of resting in the Presence. It seems to permeate the rest of my day (granted, I’ve been doing this like once an hour for a week as it only takes a few seconds.) It’s a way to hear the music that “How can I keep from Singing?” refers to. It calls me to sing along long after the moment.
The hardest part is remembering to actually pause and listen. So far, it’s been well worth the effort.
by Liz | Jun 17, 2008 | main
There’s an old (Shaker?) hymn that has been keeping me company of late:
My life flows on in endless song;
Above earth’s lamentation
I hear the sweet though far off hymn
That hails a new creation:
Through all the tumult and the strife
I hear the music ringing;
It finds an echo in my soul—
How can I keep from singing?
What though my joys and comforts die?
The Lord my Savior liveth;
What though the darkness gather round!
Songs in the night He giveth:
No storm can shake my inmost calm
While to that refuge clinging;
Since Christ is Lord of Heav’n and earth,
How can I keep from singing?
I lift mine eyes; the cloud grows thin;
I see the blue above it;
And day by day this pathway smoothes
Since first I learned to love it:
The peace of Christ makes fresh my heart,
A fountain ever springing:
All things are mine since I am His—
How can I keep from singing?
Usually I sing the modified words that Pete Seeger wrote, where the Savior is Truth, Christ is Love, and the refuge is rock, etc. But the essence if still the same and it leads me to that quiet place where I am in touch with Love and Truth and the powerful Presence (of God) that is the underpinning of all creation. Once there, How can I keep from singing?
by Liz | Jun 15, 2008 | main
The day started with noticing that my freshly printed boarding was for a different flight that I thought I was on, followed by leaving my cell phone on the shuttle bus. Add in a crowded train because two cars were “dark” (no lights, no AC). A cancelled flight, weather delays, you name it — sitting in the Newark airport for 7 1/2 hours, then flying 2 hours to Atlanta, having the slip from Park & Ride that said Lot A, but the car was in Lot C, and a 2 hour drive home translates into many opportunities to Practice the Presence of God.
I’ve been reading Ekhart Tolle’s New Earth lately. I was working on it in the airport. And so, I decided to “practice.” How many times did I pause, step back and focus on “Am I still breathing?” Add in the repetition of “This too shall pass” augmented with remembering Julian of Norwich’s declaration of “All shall be well. All manner of things shall be well.” A good day all in all.
It’s much easier to survive such a day if you can rest in the present moment. Learning to accept what is, right now and not try to drown that sucker seems the better way through.
As I write this, I think of Jesus’ words in Luke 11:
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“When an unclean spirit goes out of someone, it roams through arid regions searching for rest but, finding none, it says, ‘I shall return to my home from which I came.’
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But upon returning, it finds it swept clean and put in order.
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Then it goes and brings back seven other spirits more wicked than itself who move in and dwell there, and the last condition of that person is worse than the first.”
It seems that if all you do is turn that devil out by ignoring it, or placating it or ignoring it, it will come back with reinforcements. It seems that spirit is looking for rest. So, instead of driving it out, put it to rest. Embrace it, shine the light on it, transform it. Let it rest — or rather, put it to rest. That way, you can be done with it.
And so, as each problem reared its ugly little head yesterday, I found that it was best to just go ahead and put it to rest. Look at it – observe it, refuse to give it power, tuck it in, put it to bed. Put it down.
Now – I wonder if I can remember that today…
by Liz | Jun 7, 2008 | main
When we name something or someone, it is an attempt to capture it in a way. To name someone or something is to label it so it can be filed into its proper spot. A name gives us some control
It seems that naming God is an attempt to capture the essence and put it into our own limited framework. That is indeed useful at at times – it’s really difficult to talk about something or someone without naming. But, it can be deadly. My name for God (God) might be different than your name for God – Allah. Division erupts. I had the right name. You have the wrong name. How can we both be right?
When Jesus taught us to pray, he started “Our Father in heaven. Holy is your Name.” While Father could be construed as a “Name” to me it seems that is really is a handle on a relationship. It proclaims the sacredness of the Name – without using a name. There’s a difference between my saying “Mama!” and when I called my mother “Martha.” One is her relationship to me, the other is her name. “Mama” implies what she means to me, “Martha” is far more objective.
The Our Father or Lord’s Prayer, continues in an intimate person to person relationship: Thy will be done, [You] give us this day our daily bread, [You] lead us not into temptation… it’s a prayer of relationship. It’s a prayer that where we lay out our needs and desires and trusts the other to provide.
I can never capture the whole of God in a name, but I can stay in the relationship and learn more about the other. That’s even better.
by Liz | Jun 1, 2008 | main
I love my deck. When we rebuilt the house after a fire 8 years ago, we changed a window in our bedroom into a door to the backyard and added the deck. It’s a good size – 20×20 or so, with benches on two sides, and a sort of table in the corner where St. Francis lives. The trees, a maple, an oak, a pine and some crepe myrtles offer shade as they creep into the space around the edges. In the mornings, especially this time of year, it’s not exactly a quiet peace due to the sounds of birds that inhabit the various trees in our yard and the neighbors. But, it’s a deeply peaceful place.
How lucky I am to have this space to step into. I seem to be the only person who really uses it. I can sit on the bench and listen to creation all around me. I can see the day lilies, the gardenias, the azaleas, the iris and the camelias which all bloom at slightly different times.
My friend John might refer to this spot as my “flee to.” Yeah… everybody needs a “flee to.” A place to go and just get away. A place that calls one to prayer. A place that shouts “Welcome! You belong here!”
I love my deck.
