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Last night as a part of our service of light to dark we dimmed the Chapel lights, lit candles and read slowly through the Passion narrative. I found myself being choked by the power of it, this story I have heard time and time again still stirs my heart and renders me close to tears. I was pleased that as requested everyone left in silence for I don't honestly think that there was another way to respond...
I wish I had allowed that silence to continue and am pondering how quickly I sought to dim the pain and fill the void with noise, I wish I had dared to sit a while longer with the depths of the story, I wish I had allowed my soul the wonder of stilling itself with the love that gave so much...
It would be easy to berrate myself for my rushing, but instead I am marvelling at the wonder of the longing I have woken with this morning, a longing that calls me to connect with the story afresh today, a longing for the Spirit to work in me a deeper truth, and perhaps a deeper healing. For I reflect that we are all wounded by our seperated nature, when we fill the void with noise of activity whether we deem it healthy activity or not ,we are seperated from God, but when we allow and acknowledge the void of our seperateness before God then he will come to fill it.
I am struck again today by Jesus prayer for oneness not only with God but also with us, his desire is to be at one with us, that we might experience the divine life firsthand, that we might enter into the wonder of the relationship we were created for. The music is playing, Father Son and Spirit are dancing, and they are holding out their hands to us, the invitation is given, come, come and join the dance....
I will not hold
back from the
bowl and towel,
will not snatch my feet
from your grasp
or avert my eyes from
your gaze,
though I am undone,
vulnerable ,
needy
before you
I will not hold back,
for I need your healing,
need to be immersed
in your grace,
I need to walk this
path of descent with you,
to give myself
to the story
of ultimate
givenness...
I need to loose mysefl
to be found by you,
so bring the bowl,
bring the towel,
kneel at my feet
(though I still fight
the notion of it),
cleanse me
and make me
truly whole,
one with you...
At the beginning of Lent I set out to write a reflection a day, that lasted for just over 2 weeks and came to a grinding halt. I was ill, fighting off a chest infection and also struggling with a lack of confidence and recurring depression. instead of continuing to read and reflect in the way I hoped to I gave myself points for getting out of bed in the morning! Now half way through Holy Week I find that I am turning a corner, not because of a miracle of healing, nor because of renewed strength and health, but simply in the realisation that I cannot do it.
I do not have life's answers for those who come to me, quite often all I can do is sit with them in the midst of their pain and confusion and allow space for the spirit to work. I don't even have the answers to my own situation, but I am learning that this too is OK, it is OK to simply stop and wait, it is OK not to be doing a dozen amazing things, I have nothing to prove, and couldn't prove myself worthy if I tried. The miracle is that a transformation takes place in the acceptance of that. By accepting that I don't have the answers, but refusing to push myself beyond my limits, by doing the only thing I can do and resting in the love of God, and trusting in that love to hold me I find that I am called worthy by the one who comes to wash my feet.
He calls me clean, he reminds me that I am his, and as I come to him and allow him to wash away the dirt and grime of my days, as I allow the water of the Spirit to bathe me afresh, as I know that there is nothing I can do, nothing I need to do because he has already done all that is needed I am set free. I am set free from my own driven-ness, my own push towards being acceptable and successful, and set free from my fears that I am none of these.
Today I told the story of the servant Christ taking a towel and washing his disciples feet, as he did so he showed both humility and confidence in who he was. He then called his followers to serve one another in the same way, not to think of themselves too highly, but in the confidence that they were loved and accepted by God himself to take up a towel and serve one another in love.
I am struck by the words, serve one another, this is a work of giving and receiving, if we give we must also be willing to receive, Peter struggled with Jesus coming to wash his feet, and then in typical missing the point style went overboard demanding to have his head and hands washed too. Jesus was gentle with him, even knowing that he was about to be betrayed by him for he could see beyond the betrayer to the possibilities that lay within.
Time perhaps to drop our masks of competence, or even our masks of incompetence and simply to accept our humanness, the wonder that we are created in the image of one who knows our weaknesses and flaws and has borne them as his own. Time to turn towards the cross with the one who went there for us, time to let go of our striving and die with him that we might also rise with him.
God was not requiring me to write a reflection every day through Lent, that was my decision, and I failed, but those reflections did not make me worthy, I was not loved more for writing them, nor am I loved any less for not doing so. I can prove nothing to him, earn nothing from him, and I cannot change myself by any force of will, there is one way, and one way only, so I have given myself up to the one who can strengthen, heal and restore my soul.
Lord, so often we forget
You did not want to die.
At the very thought
you were wracked with grief,
Troubled and sorrowful.
We forget how you struggled
As you prayed
With tears and groans,
words could not express.
+
We forget that
You laid down your life in the garden,
Hours before you went to the cross.
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So help us not to see you,
With rose tinted story book eyes,
Help us to understand,
The anguish in your blood stained
Sweat soaked brow,
Show us again
If only in part,
The price you paid,
To set us free.
Hosanna,
Lord have mercy on us,
we cry out in
our need,
Lord turn towards us,
and in your
gentleness receive us,
we cry to you
Hosanna.
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Hosanna,
Lord be gracious to us,
we cry out in
our pain,
Lord reach out to touch us,
and in your
kindness heal us,
we cry to you
Hosanna
+
Hosanna,
Lord set light within us,
where all is dark,
and hope is gone
Lord let your life begin,
and in your power renew us,
we cry to you
Hosanna
+
Hosanna, Lord,
Hosanna
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I am preparing for Palm Sunday and pondering the events leading up to what we so often wrongly ( in my view) call the triumphal entry. The raising of Lazarus, and the annointing of Jesus both speak of life and death, Jesus is heading towards death through which new life would come, but we cannot underestimate the pain or darkness of it. The cry Hosanna reflects this, often misinterpreted as a cry of praise it is actually a cry for release, relief and healing. If Jesus followers kept quiet as the religious leaders demanded he says the very stones of the city would cry out, all of creation is goraning for release. Perhaps Hosanna properly understood should be our deepest prayer as we head into Holy Week.
Jesus rode into Jerusalem on a donkey, this was not a random act and from the scriptures it seems to have been thought out and prepared, he was making a point, the donkey is a beast of burden, and Jesus and his followers would have stood in stark contrast toe the other procession likely to have been entering Jeruaslem that day. Rome was "changing the guard", Pilate would have ridden in on a white charger displaying the might and power of Rome. Jesus power is not of this world, and it is to Jesus that the crowds cried out to for release and healing.
It is sobering to remember that later in the week those same crowds would be crying out "Crucify him". It is sobering to ponder my own fickleness in the light of this.
At the beginning of Lent I hoped to blog a poem a day, and started well, responding to Stephen Cherry's Lent Book, "Barefoot Prayers", but over the last week and a half have hardly read or written anything at all. It would be easy to feel down and defeated but thankfully I don't, I have been suffering from a horrible cold and chest infection and have needed to take care of myself, and if that means that I don't have the energy to do the writing I was hoping to do that is OK. I haven't failed, instead I have allowed myself to rest when I needed to, the same issue arose today when I wanted to help someone in need but knew that if I did that would be a step too far.
Saying no can be so hard, no to my goals, and no to folk wanting help or time or anything really, but I have had to do so, and in doing so I have found a gentle grace with myself that I often don't allow. It may simply be my personality type but I am often driven and don't like to show vulnerability even when I am aware of it, and it might just be that I am human, I suspect it is a mixture of both.
So today I not only said no, but I have also accepted and asked for help, I need to come aside this afternoon, to spend some time in quiet and in prayer, to ponder the coming roller coaster ride of Holy Week. As I did so I began to ponder that exhaustion was a part of Jesus experience, he knew the need to withdraw, to come aside and called the disciples to do the same. He knew what it was to feel overwhelmed and even to want to walk away from it all, just meditating on his experience of Gethsemane helps me to know that even when I come to the end of myself that I cannot come to the end of God, and I remember that his strength holds me in my weakness.
So I have resolved not to beat myself up but rather to be gentle with myself, and today I join Stephen Cherry in yesterdays prayer;
God of the Golden Rule,
let us be to others as we need them to be to us.
And let others be to us as we
seek to be to them.
When we fail forgive us,
when they fail
heal us.
When we hurt each other reconcile us.
And all by your most gentle grace.
deeper and deeper,
down and down,
in the depths
you call me
aside, draw me into
the numinous darkness
where healing flows free,
in the safety of your presence
I let go,
I am known,
there is no holding back here,
no pretending,
masks are laid aside,
forgotten,
unnecessary now
for I am hidden
and fully seen
broken,
yet whole,
empty
but overflowing,
deeper and deeper,
down and down,
I answer your call, and
I find myself
wrapped in your
grace...
This poem came from some of my recent thinking about and reading about prayer, these thoughts from Richard Rhor's meditation yesterday really spoke to me today;
"In many ways prayer—certainly contemplative prayer or meditation—is planned and organized failure. If you’re not prepared for failure, you’ll avoid prayer, and that’s what most people do. Prayer is typically not an experience of immediate union, satisfaction, or joy; in fact, quite the opposite. Usually you meet your own incapacity for and resistance to union. You encounter your thinking, judging, controlling, accusing, blaming, fearing mind. So why pray?
Julian of Norwich, my favorite mystic, uses the word “sin” to mean a state of separateness or disunion. She writes that you become aware of your state of resistance or separateness, and then when you try to sink into the experience of one-ing—Julian’s word for unitive consciousness—you realize you can’t get there by yourself. You can’t make it happen. You can’t make yourself one.
Julian writes in Revelations of Divine Love (Chapter 78), “Only in the falling apart of your own foundation can you experience God as your total foundation and your real foundation.” Otherwise you keep creating your own foundation, by your own righteousness, by your own intelligent and holy thoughts. Julian describes this reality in terms of what God does: God reveals God’s-self as your authentic foundation.
What we’re doing in prayer is letting our self-made foundation (or False Self) crumble so that God’s foundation can be our reality. Prayer is a practice in failure that overcomes our resistance to union with Love. Let’s fall into and rest in that Love one more time. . . ."
There is nothing to
Prove,
I am held,
Nothing to show,
Nothing to,
Show off, for
I am held
In the everlasting arms
Of the one who demands
Nothing of me,
Except that I let go
And be held,
So I am held,
Held in my strengths
And my weaknesses,
Held through joys,
And pains,
Held in my deepest despair,
And highest
Celebrations,
Through storm and calm,
I am held...
I have nothing to prove,
No love to gain,
I am his,
He is mine,
I am held...
Rough copy of painting, "Held".
Pondering the story of Peter stepping out of the boat.
Flashes of compassion
Break through her
Gruff exterior,
A smile, a look,
A gift
Chosen with care
And love...
+
There is such joy
In the giving...
+
An unconscious act of
Rare tenderness
Drawn from a deeper well
Of human care than she has
Ever experienced,
A calloused finger strokes
A babies face,
Gently, lovingly and
With a quiet grief for
All that she has lost...
+
I am humbled by her humility!
And I find Christ in her...
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Ann came to North Shore Methodist Church through the Comfort Zone, a drop in for the homeless and needy folk of Blackpool. When she first came she was all gruff exterior and often getting into fights. We soon understood there was more to her story, and as she shared it we wept with her, now she attends church regularly, and as we get to know her she ministers to us in quiet unassuming ways. She is still gruff, she has had to be, it is part of who she is, but last Sunday I watched her brush an infants cheek with her finger, and what I saw in her face broke my heart. I saw God's love for humankind.
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