Encountering God in the Dark Zones

I have to admit I don't especially enjoy the unknown, uncertainty.  I'd rather have a clear picture of where I am and where I'm going.  My strengths of vision and strategy tend to compel me to always want to be moving toward clarity and purpose.  Looking through blurred lenses doesn't appeal to me.  In fact, when I wore eye glasses, I was always cleaning the lenses as the day progressed (kind of like I do with my iPhone).  I just happen to like to see things clearly.  I'd prefer not being in dark zones where I can't see very well. And then I read the following profound statement from the Buddhist teacher Jack Kornfield.  It challenged me and immediately brought to mind some powerful scriptures that reinforce this truth.

"It is the basic principle of spiritual life that we learn the deepest things in unknown territory. Often it is when we feel most confused inwardly and are in the midst of our greatest difficulties that something new will open. We awaken most easily to the mystery of life through our weakest side. The areas of our greatest strength, where we are the most competent and clearest, tend to keep us away from the mystery."

Jesus and Seeds

Jesus used seed planting as a spiritual metaphor.  And when you unpack it, the similarities of what Kornfield is suggesting are striking.  The seed is planted under ground--it lives in the deep dark place of the unknown--seemingly entombed in a coffin of nothingness and insignificance and apparent defeat.  And right there, in this dark zone, is the essence of life.  The seed has within it the entire and ultimate fulfillment of life.  And in time the seed begins to sprout--new life emerges--and the plant pushes through the dark dirt out of the unseen into the seen and vibrant life above ground.  As Jesus said, unless the seed falls into the ground and "dies," it remains alone, unseen, unfruitful.  (Matthew 13)

Life comes into being in the unknown territory where we are in what appears to be great difficulties and confusions, operating in our weakest side, in what feels often like defeat and despair.  But that's when we encounter the Mystery.

Creation and the Void

In fact, that is the Hebrew picture of the creation story that sets up the earthly paradigm of how God operates.  "And the earth was empty, a formless void and mass cloaked in darkness."  (Genesis 1:2)  Do you ever feel like that's your life--a void, devoid of meaning and purpose and expectant shape--where you wonder where in the world God is?

But as this story of origins continues, it's in this dark nothingness that the Divine Wind (the Spirit/Breath of God) is blowing as it is "hovering over [the void's] surface.  Then God said, 'Let there be light,' and there was light."  (Genesis 1:2-3)  And God continues to breathe words into this void so that even in the nothingness--this unknown territory--life is present.  And because of the Sacred Wind, life emerges, takes shape, is formed into the most amazing realities.

God hovers in the middle of the dark, formless voids in our lives, too.  If we can become still enough, and with courage peer into our dark places, we will encounter that hovering Spirit--we will feel the very breath of God blowing Presence and Life there.  We will encounter the Mystery in our unknown territory.

No wonder the Hebrew poet said, "Be still and know that I am God."  (Psalm 46:10)  As it turns out, according to the poem's context, this intentional stilling of one's self occurs in the midst of terrible upheaval, trouble, and dismay.  The poet is reminding us that even in this "darkness" and void, "The LORD Almighty is here among us; the God of Israel is our fortress."  (Psalm 46:7, 11)

We encounter God in the middle of what we so often feel are circumstances devoid of the divine presence.  No matter how unknown your territory might seem, God is still there.

Paul's Weakness

Paul says, "When I am weak, then I am strong.  So now I boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may work through me ... Because this Jesus told me, 'My grace is sufficient for you.  My power works best in your weakness.'"  (2 Corinthians 12:9-10)

In our weaknesses, in our difficulties, in the unknown territory that makes us feel out of control, over our heads, unable to navigate well, even feeling like failures--that's when we encounter the power of God that produces life.  If, as Paul quotes here, God's power works best in our weaknesses, than why are we so quick to get rid of them?  Why do we tend to run from them or even sweep them under the rug?

Encountering God in the Dark Zones

Maybe we shouldn't run so quickly from our weaknesses and difficulties.  Maybe we should learn to stay put in those painful places.  Not because we need to love pain and hardship.  But because we can encounter the Divine there.  We can experience a side of ourselves that God chooses to show up in even when we're trying to deny it.  God brings grace to our places of greatest need.  Strength doesn't need grace.  Need needs grace.  Weakness needs grace.  Uncertainty needs grace.  Anxiousness and lack of clarity need grace.

That's why, if you look at the symbol of the Yin and Yang (in Chinese Taoism), which represents the polarities of life that exist together and come and go in cycles, within each side is a small circle of the opposite.  A piece of darkness always exists in light, and a piece of light always exists in darkness--you cannot have one without the other--or another way of saying it is, you can find one while in the other.  At night you still have the stars in the sky.  During the day, you still have shadows.  And in the transitions between those cycles, both exist in varying degrees.  So in Taoist philosophy, you needn't be afraid of or run from the other.  You learn to embrace the whole cycle and rhythm of life as bringing necessary transformation and depth.

"My power is made perfect in your weakness," Jesus told Paul.  "And the Spirit of God was hovering over the dark, formless void," describes the creation story.  God lives even in the darkest voids of our lives.

So maybe we shouldn't be so quick to try escaping from our dark places lest we miss out on the profound, life producing, strong and empowering presence of divine grace.  God operates in a very counter-intuitive way:  it's in the dark zones God is breathing life and we inhale that Life and we are brought to greater life.

Mindfulness in the Sanctuary of Jiffy Lube

[Please SHARE this blog with people who might be interested!  Invite them to subscribe and receive every new post via email – hit the button on the right to subscribe.] There's a Zen story about an old zen master who was dying.  All of the monks gathered - in a kind of restrained eagerness  - around the deathbed, hoping to be chosen as the next teacher.

The master asked slowly, "Where is the gardener?"

"The gardener," the monks wondered aloud.  "He is just a simple man who tends plants, and he is not even ordained."

"Yes," the master replied.  "But he is the only one awake.  He will be the next teacher."

Apparently there's something about working in and being present to the natural world that produces a kind of "awakeness" toward Life.  The famous painter Vincent Van Gogh expressed this same reality:  "All nature seems to speak ... As for me, I cannot understand why everybody does not see it or feel it; nature or God does it for everyone who has eyes and ears and a heart to understand." (The Complete Letters, 248, I, 495)

There's something spiritually stimulating about being in nature and allowing it to speak to your heart and mind and soul.  There's something powerful about getting close enough to creation to hear its song and listen to its rhymes.  Every major religion in the world recognizes the spirituality of nature and provides various ways to become more "awake" to the voice of the Sacred that speaks from the world all around us.  It's pretty amazing what we begin to notice when we're being more mindful and aware of everything we see, hear, and feel.

I was sitting in the waiting section of the oil change garage off of the busy Van Ness Ave. in San Francisco last week.  My chair was close to the garage entrance so I could see the street.  I was thinking about the upcoming spiritual retreat we were taking with my Second Wind spiritual community, the retreat theme this year being on the spirituality of nature.  My initial response to what I saw and felt in the midst of my very urban environment was to heave a sigh of relief knowing that it wasn't much longer until I was going to finally be out of the city into "real" nature where I could hear God's voice and feel closer to the Spirit of life.  But then, as I looked outside the huge garage door and saw the cars driving past, hearing the traffic sounds, I was suddenly struck by a significant reality:  I was surrounded by "nature" right there in the middle of my huge city.  It wasn't just the green trees on the median of this busy boulevard, or the birds I saw flying overhead.  The heart and soul of nature was also evident in the awe-inspiring creative spirit that went into the design and construction of today's modern vehicles - the intricate, micro "creation" of computer chips and boards running the cars and trucks, the impressive design of the engines propelling vehicles toward their destination, the guys changing the oil in my car, running back and forth, using their appendages skillfully to service my amazingly constructed automobile (even though I kind of hate my old car these days and wish I could get a nicer new one).  Even the sounds that we so much associate with "anti-nature" (car horns, exhaust pipes from loud buses and trucks, traffic, construction sites, loud voices) are in fact the sounds of life, all of which involve the divine spirit of creativity, artistry, invention, passion, desire for the best in life).  And when that perspective hit me, I became aware of "nature" in the middle of my city in new ways that led to a deeper appreciation of God's Spirit all around me.  I had a very meaningful spiritual epiphany right there on busy Van Ness Avenue - I encountered the God of life in the sanctuary of Jiffy Lube!

Living with our "eyes" more open wherever we find ourselves, suggest the spiritual sages of all time, produces a deeper experience of life and an increased connection with God.  Nature is where life is; and life is everywhere.  I do realize, in addition, that being in environments that are more silent and quiet and environmentally natural is extremely conducive to spiritual depth and connection, as well.  But it's amazing how often even when we're in those settings we simply don't see or hear the Sacred Spirit of life very deeply - we're too busy "doing" instead of simply "being" attentive.  Intentional mindfulness helps make the connection.

The Hebrew poets in Scripture manifested this intentionality with nature so profoundly in describing their experience of God.  Their poetic similes and metaphors were filled with an environmental awareness that opened their hearts to the Divine Creator.  One pointed to the other.  God was both in His creation and the Master of Creation.  Looking at one was like looking at the other.  They facilitated experience, one with the other.  Notice this example:

"O my soul, bless God! God, my God, how great you are! beautifully, gloriously robed, Dressed up in sunshine, and all heaven stretched out for your tent. You built your palace on the ocean deeps, made a chariot out of clouds and took off on wind-wings. You commandeered winds as messengers, appointed fire and flame as ambassadors. You set earth on a firm foundation so that nothing can shake it, ever ... What a wildly wonderful world, God! You made it all, with Wisdom at your side, made earth overflow with your wonderful creations ... The glory of God-let it last forever! Let God enjoy his creation!" (Psalm 104)

There is a profound spirituality associated with nature that is accessed by developing a greater mindfulness or awakeness or awareness of what you're seeing and experiencing.  That's why, at Second Wind, we value the natural world and desire to enjoy it, honor it, respect it, care for it, and share it often.  And we also value the city we live in as a place where God's breath blows and moves and stirs up life, too.  As urban dwellers, we're learning to feel the divine breath energize us and bring us to life in the middle of our urban "forests," where the voice of God sings to our souls the music of life.

This last weekend, on our Second Wind retreat, our closing "ceremony" was to write a collective psalm of praise to God, each one of us writing two lines describing our personal experience of the weekend, and then putting them all together into one song.  After taking a few minutes to compose our two lines, we stood in a circle and read our lines in one complete collective psalm.  I'm telling you, it was a profound experience for me as I listened to the richly diverse and meaningful ways everyone had encountered God and experienced the depth of life through the retreat time, described in some wonderfully poetic tones.  Our intentional experiences of heightened awareness and awakeness, including times for reflection upon and observation of those experiences, revealed a significant spiritual epiphany for all of us.  The power of keeping our eyes, ears, hearts, spirits, and bodies open to Life!

As Van Gogh once said, "Oh! My dear comrades, let us crazy ones have delight in our eyesight in spite of everything - yes, let's!"