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.

Three Lessons From Geese About Spiritual Sustainability and Endurance

INTRODUCTION Bar-headed geese are some of the most remarkable birds in nature.  It’s estimated that at least 50,000 of them winter in India.  And when summer nears, they undertake the two month 5000 mile migration back to their home in Central Asia.  What makes this trip remarkable is that the route they choose to take every year is the world’s steepest migratory flight—they fly over the highest mountain in the world, Mount Everest in the Himalayas.

Amazingly, this route is where the air is thinnest and oxygen level lowest.  What’s more, the thinner air means that less lift is generated when the birds flap their wings, thereby increasing the energy costs of flying by around 30 per cent.  And yet they still fly the same route over the highest place on earth.

Scientists now find that these geese do not make use of tailwinds or updrafts that could give them a boost up the mountain.  They choose instead to rely on several other remarkable resources:

(1) Muscle power—these geese have a denser network of capillaries that reach oxygen-carrying blood to the cells.  So their blood is capable of binding and transporting more oxygen to where it’s needed most, their wing muscles.

(2) Large lungs—they also have larger lungs for their size and breathe more heavily than other waterfowl. Unlike humans, bar-headed geese can breathe in and out very rapidly without getting dizzy or passing out.  By hyperventilating, they increase the net quantity of oxygen that they get into their blood and therefore into their muscles.

(3) Team work—geese are famous for utilizing in flight the V-formation which helps reduce individual energy consumption by up to 30%.  The whole flock gets over 70% better mileage than if each bird flew solo.  When the lead bird gets weary, it drops back and a new one takes the lead.  As the birds vigorously flap their wings, it creates lift for the bird behind.  These geese actually choose to fly over Mt. Everest at one time rather than breaking up the trip, typically a grueling eight hour marathon.  And in addition, if one of the geese gets too tired or gets injured or sick, two of the other geese shepherd the weaker one back down to the ground and stay with it until it either gets stronger or dies.  Then they rejoin the group or find another group to fly with to complete their migration.

(4) External conditions—many scientists had thought the geese were taking advantage of daytime winds that blow up and over mountaintops. But recent research showed the birds forgo the winds and choose to fly at night, when conditions tend to be relatively calmer.  They're potentially avoiding higher winds in the afternoon, which might make flights more uncomfortable or more risky.  The birds could potentially head east or west and fly around, rather than over, the mountain range, but this would add several days to their trip and would actually use up more energy.  So they go straight over the highest point on earth in an attempt to manage their energy as efficiently as possible.  It’s counter-intuitive.

So what can we learn from these geese about how to develop a strong, sustainable, enduring spirituality—the kind that can face great risks and obstacles and complete the journey well?  What does it take to enjoy spiritual sustainability?

THREE LESSONS FROM GEESE ABOUT DEVELOPING SPIRITUAL SUSTAINABILITY

Lesson One, Maximize your spiritual oxygen—breathe deeply.  Like the geese, we all have the inner capacities to develop spiritual sustainability—we have good muscles and good lungs.  But for those to be maximized, we have to breathe deeply to get the most amount of oxygen possible to our spiritual muscles.

These geese have the lung capacity to be able to hyperventilate when they need it for Mt. Everest.  When they’re at home, they certainly don’t spend all of their time hyperventilating.  But when they need it the most, facing their arduous migration, they’ve developed the capacity for it.

So how can you and I increase our lung capacity to breathe deeply and get life-giving oxygen to our spiritual muscles?  This is what spiritual practices are all about—engaging regularly in activities that involve spiritual breathing, breathing deeply of the divine Spirit, accessing the power that is greater than ourselves—Prayer, meditation, scripture/inspirational reading, journaling [for example, the direct method of communication with your Trusted Source—based upon Carl Jung’s model of active imagination], spiritual conversations, sacred rituals, sacred objects, building altars of remembrances, nature immersion.  This is about engaging in ways to “wake up” to God’s presence in you and all around you, ways to “pay attention” to That which is greater than your self, ways to “breathe in” the divine spirit.

PERSONAL APPLICATION:  What do you currently do spiritually to breathe deeply?  What sacred rituals do you intentionally engage in?  What kind of plan do you have for regular spiritual breathing?

Lesson Two, Exercise your spiritual muscles—act on faith.  I love this definition of faith:  “Faith is daring the soul to go beyond what the eyes can see.”  William Newton Clark

Spiritual teachers remind us that faith is the language of the soul.  And the soul is what both holds our life purpose and catapults us towards it.  Our egos care most about happiness, security, safety, success, status.  The soul cares about aliveness, courage, purpose, effectiveness, faith.  And faith is the language of the soul.

So, when you act on faith, when you intentionally choose to take a step forward in your spiritual quest, when you say “yes” to faith, your spiritual muscles strengthen, and new resources become available.

That’s why, in the story of the Hebrews needing to cross the flooded Jordan River in order to get over to the Promised Land, God gave instructions for the priests carrying the ark of the covenant to lead the way into the river.  And it wasn’t until they stepped into the river that the waters parted all the way across.  Those first steps were steps of faith—choices to follow God’s instructions even when their eyes couldn’t see the way.

Indiana Jones, in the movie “Temple of Doom,” had to step out in faith, putting his foot out into the nothingness, the chasm of the abyss, in order for the bridge to appear so they could cross it to the other side where the coveted Holy Grail was hidden.

The way many people live is by playing it safe, or shrinking from difficulty, or refusing to act unless all the ducks are lined up in a row or the future can be clearly seen.  It’s true, we need to be smart when we’re faced with choices.  But sometimes, the counter-intuitive smart choice is to act even when you can’t see the end.  Our paralysis of fear atrophies our spiritual muscles.  What you don’t use gets lost.  Muscles get flabby and lose their resilience and strength.

We can breathe deeply all we want, we can learn to hyperventilate and get rich oxygen to our muscles effectively all we want.  But if we never use those oxygenated muscles, none of that makes a difference.

When you act in faith, taking a step forward, new resources become available.  And that courageous act strengthens the spiritual muscles, empowering you to take the next step.  Faith is acting on the belief that you have what you need, like the geese, the necessary equipment and inner capacity, to fly over the Mt. Everests of life.  So use it!

I can honestly tell you that when I look back on the crises I’ve gone through and see where I am today, I am in awe of the inner resources I was able to call out of myself that I didn’t even know I had.  That awareness has helped me to learn not to be afraid of or to avoid the Mt. Everests because it’s only in flying over them that we can see what our spiritual muscles are truly capable of.

PERSONAL APPLICATION:  So what steps of faith are you being called to take these days?  How is your soul being dared to go beyond what your eyes can see?  What is one step forward you can take right now to exercise your spiritual muscles?

Lesson Three, Leverage the support of others—ask for help.  The genius of the geese’s V-formation flying style is the way it leverages the power of team effort.  Getting over Mt. Everest is almost impossible solo.  Drafting with others maximizes energy and productivity.

Richard Bolles is the author of history’s best-selling book about job hunting and career change, What Color Is Your Parachute.  He was interviewed once about the subject of being self-employed.  He said that self employed people can hire out just about any skill, even, to some degree, discipline; you can get someone to call you every week to help keep you on track.  But, he said, the only trait you cannot hire out and without which you’ll “die on the vine” is the willingness to ask for help.

Trying to go it alone in life is, as one author described it, like “stringing beads without tying a knot at the end.”  Without having the help of other people to secure the end, we simply keep slipping away.

Spiritual sustainability, the power to endure in the long run, requires asking for the support of others—inviting trusted people into our lives for accountability, vision, wisdom, encouragement, strength.  We have to be willing to ask for what we need and want.

I remember when I first moved here to San Francisco all by myself—after having gone through a huge personal crisis that shattered my self confidence and sent me into what I was tempted to see as a fatal tailspin—I called up three guys who had been my friends for years—they all lived in different parts of the country—and I asked each of them if they would “fly the V-formation” with me for a long while—“Would you be willing to call me every week and talk with me, encourage me, support me, and let me draft you.”  That was one of the most spiritually strategic steps of faith I could have taken during that Mt. Everest time for me.  I had to summon enough courage and initiative to ask for help.

Percy Ross authors a column called “Thanks A Million” that is syndicated in more than seven hundred newspapers around the country.  This Minneapolis millionaire is trying to dispose of the fortune it took him nearly 60 years to accumulate by working to redistribute his wealth among people who write to him with their stories of need and sometimes greed.  He gets 2000 letters a day.  Those that touch him he responds to with a check.

In an interview, he talked about the importance of asking.  He said, “Asking is in my opinion the world’s most powerful—and neglected—secret to success.  I certainly wouldn’t be where I am today if I hadn’t convinced many, many people to help me along the way.  The world is full of genies waiting to grant our wishes.  There are plenty of people who will gladly give you a hand.”

Knowing what you want is one thing—a very important thing, to be sure.  But that doesn’t really matter in the end unless you learn to ask for it.  As Richard Bolles said, the willingness to ask for help is a nonnegotiable component of successful living.  Spiritual sustainability and strength require us involving others in our lives in crucial, significant ways.  There’s no such thing as a spiritual lone ranger.  The mighty Lone Ranger had Tonto.  Even Jesus the Son of God had Peter, James & John (and nine others to follow him around).

PERSONAL APPLICATION:  Whom do you have in your life to draft with, to fly in V-formation with?  Who do you need to ask?  What do you want for your life and are you asking clearly and confidently for it, asking for help?

SUMMARY

So what does it take to develop spiritual sustainability, a spirituality that endures the long run with strength and vitality?  What lessons can we learn from the barheaded geese?  First, Maximize your spiritual oxygen—breathe deeply.  Second, Exercise your spiritual muscles—act on faith.  And third, Leverage the support of others—ask for help.

CONCLUSION

One of the Old Testament stories that provides a sort of comic relief to the serious messages of the prophets and yet offers a deeply encouraging view of the divine reality swirling around in the midst of our stories—one of the ultimate resources for spiritual endurance--is the legend of Jonah.

God calls him to go to the fierce people of Ninevah—the most feared enemies of his Jewish people—and preach a message of impending divine judgment.  Now preaching judgment to anyone is uncomfortable.  But to the Ninevahites?  Considering that these fierce warriors skinned their enemies alive, I can understand Jonah’s immediate hesitancy to accept this calling.  He doesn’t just say No to God, he jumps on a ship that is sailing in the opposite direction from Ninevah to try to outrun both God and his mission.

No one ever promised there would be no risk in following our spiritual destiny.  In fact, truth is, there is always fear involved in flying over Mt. Everest.  Our temptation is to capitulate and cave in to the paralysis of status quo.

On the way to far away, Jonah falls asleep in the bowels of the boat.  A fierce storm comes up.  The captain finds Jonah and wakes him up.  “Better come on deck with the rest of us—we’re trying to decide our fate.”  The sailors cast lots to see who among them is bringing on this wrath of the gods.  That’s when Jonah speaks up with his story of fear and failure, saying, “I’m the one at fault here.  Throw me over board and that’ll solve your storm problem.”

He’s thinking that he’s not even safe from God and his calling on a ship going in the opposite direction from Ninevah.  If he’s thrown overboard, at least he’ll drown and never have to worry again about facing God or the Ninevahites.

But when he’s sinking to the depths of sea, God sends a huge fish to swallow him to keep him alive and save him for his mission.  “Thanks, God!”  In the belly of the fish, though, Jonah recognizes what God is calling him to do, accepts God’s promise to empower him with courage and strength, and repents of his cowardice and fear.  “If this cup cannot pass from me, Your will not mine be done,” he utters.

After three days and three nights, the fish spits him out onto the beach nearest Ninevah, wouldn’t you know it.  And he marches into the city and ends up causing a massive revival among those enemy people who end up treating him like a hero who has saved their lives from judgment.

Spiritual sustainability, spiritual strength and endurance, take place not just from us breathing deeply, acting in faith or even in fear, and asking for help from others—but also from a Divine Presence that swirls and blows and moves in the midst of our stories, a Divine Presence that believes in our destiny even more than we do, who believes in us even when we’ve given up.  That Sacred Spirit breathes into our lives hope and courage, engaging other players on our behalf, turning failure into fertilizer, redeeming our cowardice for courage, staying with us until we fulfill our holy destiny.  It’s the Wind beneath our wings, the Oxygen streaming into our muscles, that empowers us over Mt. Everest safely to our promised land.

Now that’s a Resource to keep holding on to!

Developing A Faith That Works: What Is Trust?

[Please SHARE this blog with people who might be interested!  Hit the button on the right to subscribe or to share the post] Marcus Borg, a professor of religion and culture at Oregon State University and a prolific author and speaker about the importance of a progressive Christianity, was on a plane trip sitting next to a woman who said, "I'm much more interested in Buddhism and Sufism than I am in Christianity."  When he asked her why, she said, "Because they're about a way of life, and Christianity is all about believing." She continued:  "I don't think beliefs matter nearly as much as having a spiritual path and following a way."

He commented later in one of his books:  "I understood her comment, even as I silently disagreed with part of it.  To begin with the disagreement, Christianity is about a way of life, a path, and it has been from its very beginning.  At the center of Jesus' own teaching is the notion of a 'way' or a 'path,' and the first name of the early Christian movement was 'the Way.'  Indeed, seeing Christianity as a 'way' is one of the central features of the emerging paradigm." (The Heart of Christianity, p. 31)

The woman's statement does reflect the most common understanding of the word "faith" in modern Western Christianity:  that faith means holding a certain set of "beliefs," "believing" a set of statements to be true, whether cast as biblical teachings or doctrines or dogma.  If you possess this faith, you're even called a "believer."

As a result, this concept of faith as primarily an intellectual exercise has turned faith almost exclusively into a matter of the head.  But significantly, that was not the central meaning and use of the word "faith" in scripture and among followers during the centuries from the time of Jesus to the Enlightenment.  Faith was not a matter of the head but a matter of the heart - that deep level of life below our thinking, feeling, and willing (intellect, emotions, and volition), deeper than our conscious self and the ideas we have in our heads.

And faith was always seen as central to experiencing the God-life, accessing the divine spirit and allowing It to transform existence.  One of the authors of the Christian New Testament even stated this spiritual reality in strong terms like this, “Without faith it is impossible to please God.” (Hebrews 11:6)  He’s not suggesting that God hates us if we don’t have faith, or that if we don’t believe the right things God thinks less of us.  No, he’s saying that “faith” is central to the spiritual journey – it’s a key to accessing the divine life and living a transformed life.  In fact, that verse is in the context of a whole chapter that tells the stories of how various people in the Bible journeyed with God – some of them knew a lot about theology, others knew very little.  But all of them chose to stay on the journey with God through thick and thin, successes and failures.  That was called “faith” – the willingness to be in presence (in synch) with the divine spirit

OVER THE NEXT FEW BLOG POSTS, we'll take a look at four words that are translated as "faith."  We'll unpack each word and explore what it means and what the differing nuances suggest about developing a faith that works in real life, a faith that transforms life, a faith that helps define ourselves and produces a rich and deeper experience of both God and Life.

TODAY’S WORD: “fiducia”

This is the Latin word for “faith” which literally means trust, confidence.  It's where we get our financial word “fiduciary” - a person to whom property or power is entrusted for the benefit of another. Of, based on, or in the nature of trust and confidence.  I mean think about it - if you're going to give another person access to all of your money and estate, you want to be able to trust that person.  Right?

In a biblical context, this word for “faith” is describing a radical trust IN God.  This trust "faith" may not mean you know everything there is to know about God.  There will still be lots of questions, maybe even doubts about the metaphysical issues surrounding the divine, the universe, how it all came into being, who or what started it all and how everything is sustained.  But faith as trust is the willingness to connect with God (as you know It/Him/Her) and has a degree of confidence that this Divine Force is, as Albert Einstein put it, a friendly Universe - that God has your best interests in mind.

So let’s look at a couple of metaphors and illustrations of what TRUST is – how TRUST relates to our experience of God and the spiritual life – what are some of the dynamics of TRUST?

Floating in Water:

Soren Kierkegaard, one of the pre-eminent existentialist philosophers and spiritual writers in the 20th century, described faith like this:  “Faith is like floating in seven thousand fathoms of water in the ocean.  If you struggle, if you tense up and thrash about, you will eventually sink.  But if you relax and trust, you will float.”

So, if God is the water, and we’re floating in It, what does this metaphor mean?  Floating in water (without struggling and thrashing about) describes a kind of relaxing quality to trust – you can hold your life without struggling – you relax with yourself and with the Unknowns in your life (after all, you don’t know or understand everything about the fathomless ocean you’re floating in but you can still be there) because you’re being “held up,” supported – the physics works whether you understand everything about the principles and dynamics or not.

Fighting and struggling and thrashing about only tire you out and facilitate your sinking.  Trusting means letting go of your fears and anxieties and uncertainties and simply letting yourself live life in the embrace of God and God’s love; relaxing in the truth that the Universe is friendly and is on your side and will bring what’s good to you and will redeem what’s painful and evil and bad by bringing good growth to you.

So would you describe your personal spirituality or style of life with the word "relaxed?"  Would your faith be described as a "relaxed confidence" in Life or God or Goodness?  Do you feel that the Universe is fundamentally friendly (as Einstein once said, the most important question we'll ever ask ourselves is, Is the universe friendly?).  Faith as TRUST is about relaxing, holding life with an open hand (rather than a clenched fist that tends to signify our desire to control, to hang on for dear life from fear of losing something).  A relaxing confidence!

Rock and Fortress:

The Hebrew poets of sacred scripture, especially in the book of Songs (Psalms) often used two other metaphors to describe faith as trust:  God is both Rock and Fortress.  Notice this piece of poetry:

⁵ Let all that I am wait quietly before God, for my hope is in him. ⁶ He alone is my rock and my salvation, my fortress where I will not be shaken. ⁷ My victory and honor come from God alone. He is my refuge, a rock where no enemy can reach me. ⁸ O my people, trust in him at all times. Pour out your heart to him, for God is our refuge. (Psalm 62)

What do these metaphors – Rock, Fortress - say about trust?  God is secure, solid, able to be counted on.  What’s that insurance company that uses the “rock” in their advertisement?  Prudential.  What’s their point:  you can count of them when you need to – they’re reliable – “rock solid.”

Notice the phrases about “trust” in these verses:  waiting quietly before God, putting hope in God, not being shaken, resting in a safe place, pouring out our hearts to God.  The poet's point is that he can trust in God as the one upon whom he relies, as his support and foundation and ground, as his safe place.   A solid confidence!

Does this kind of "solid" trust mean that you never have any doubts about God?  That God always comes through for you by protecting you from evil or harm or danger or pain and suffering?  This is certainly the kind of theology (picture of God) that many religious people have - it's very simplistic though real to them.  But, as I've experienced personally, the danger of this belief is that when you go through the storm, the tendency is to question God and wonder what the heck is going wrong?  Where is God?  Why am I going through this?  God really must not care about me after all!  When I lost my job, went through a divorce, experienced great failure in my life, I wondered where the Divine Rock and Fortress were for me.  Either I had failed so miserably that God had left me and wouldn't have any more to do with me or God simply wasn't going to come through for me and couldn't be expected to.  Either way, I was on the losing end!  There wasn't much solid in the swamp I was in.

The psychiatrist and spiritual writer Gerald May once wrote:  "I know that God is loving and that God's loving is trustworthy.  I know this directly, through the experience of my life.  There have been plenty of times of doubt, especially when I used to believe that trusting God's goodness meant I would not be hurt.  But having been hurt quite a bit, I know God's goodness goes deeper than all pleasure and pain - it embraces them both."

The naive belief that if God is truly good and solid in that goodness then your trust in God will be rewarded with lack of pain and trouble and suffering.  God's goodness = no pain.  I learned that, as Gerald May wrote, it isn't true.  God's goodness, God's solid rock and fortress, can be counted on to be a reliable presence in the midst of ALL of life's experiences (self-imposed or externally imposed).  God showed up for me during those dark times most often through other people who chose to come along side me and support, love, care for, and journey with me.  And as the dark tunnel finally emerged into the light, I saw that God's goodness was involved in helping to redeem the pain in my life by ultimately bringing good out of it, by doing a work of transformation in me, maturing me, establishing my confidence in myself, in others, and ultimately in God.

So would you use the word "solid" to describe your confidence in Life or God?  What would you use the words "rock" and "fortress" to describe in your life?  What power outside yourself can you count on to bring you redemption and transformation or is it just up to you alone to muddle through the swamp?  Is God a "safe place" (as the poet described) you can be with or be in?

Faith is about trust; and trust is about both a relaxed and solid confidence in Another.  And that kind of trust can only come from a journey ... together ... through the bumps, bruises, hurts, joys, sorrows, ecstasies of life ... where you begin to discover that nothing you do minimizes or maximizes the Divine love or Goodness for you.  It continues flowing like a River all the time, in you, around you, through you, enveloping you, embracing you.  Trust is about choosing at some point to relax, to give in to the Flow and embrace It back and let it carry you along the winding waters until It empties out into the boundless and deep Ocean.

Stay tuned to word two for faith.

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!"