Aware

Aware

Today I am aware that a good share of the time I am not. But to the extent that I am, it is generally a good thing.

Perhaps it is because we live in a world of sensory overload, that we become so good at filtering things out. Perhaps it is because we have allowed ourselves to be hoodwinked into thinking that multi-tasking is a virtue that the successful should cultivate, so we learn to dilute our ability to attend or focus on a few things (or just one thing) well, until it seems normal to us to live superficially with our attention disbursed over many things - much like how a stone skipping across the surface of the water may have the illusion that is experiencing the depths of a lake.

It is partially because I am aware that I often am not aware, that I so look forward to the Journey retreats that I get to participate in about 3 times a year. (See note a the bottom of this post). Our first day together always involves spending the major part of the morning and afternoon in unhurried alone time with God. This morning, before getting started with that, we gathered together as a group to reflect on the Psalms as guides to prayer - noting the richness and power of the poetry and its imagery, not so much to communicate information, but to engage our experience on deeper levels - to raise our awareness of the ways God connects with us, and we with God. We were reminded that poetry like this is not just "decorated language," but is something designed to reach in and resonate on levels that we find difficult to access in other ways.

And so begins today's journey for me. With the Psalms in hand, and a newly acquired book on the Celtic Way of Prayer that I had just come across this morning, I have been walking, reading, reflecting, praying and enjoying the un-rushed, unhurried time. And while I am sure there are many important aspects of awareness of which I need to be more aware (stuff for future posts, no doubt), for this particular morning, these are a few of the things that have caught my attention along the way:

First, as I was looking through the book, I was intrigued as I was reminded that central to Celtic Christian Spirituality is also the concept of the journey, (which shares a common metaphor with the retreat experience I am participating in). I am also reminded that, far from this being an image of directionless drifting with no meaningful purpose in mind, the journey metaphor recognizes that life is not the destination we move towards, but what we experience along the way. The process is the destination, and we need to embrace each step for what it is. This involves being attentive and living in awareness of the richness of what we are experiencing along the way - a huge part of which is a recognition of the way God is present and speaking with us, around us, and even within us as we travel.

Second, as I continue to browse through this book, I read about how a profound sense of awareness was something that was already deeply woven into the culture of the Celtic people even before they heard the story of Jesus and embraced Christianity. They already had a sense of the presence of divine power in their world, and had experienced the powerful, enriching, transforming impact that their close appreciative relationship with creation brought them. They correctly discerned the footprints and the sustaining power of the Creator in the midst of creation, even if they erred by mistaking the foot prints for the Person, and as a result failed to fully discern the nature and character of Artist whose work they so deeply appreciated. But even so, they were attentive and responsive to what they sensed around them in amazing ways.

As I thought about this, I was reminded of Paul's experience in Athens, recorded in Acts 17 where, when he found himself in the midst of a culture that had produced many temples to a variety of gods, instead of attacking their idolatry, he acknowledged, and perhaps even affirmed, their religious impulse, and then sought to re-direct it by entering into a conversation with them about the god they did not yet know. Perhaps spiritual responsiveness (awareness) is something we can experience even when our picture of the God is not yet fully formed, or we know that it is the Spirit that we are actually responding to?

Even now, as I am enjoying my walk through some beautiful mountain scenery, I do so with a realization that my level of perceptiveness and awareness is probably much less than than theirs would have been. And so I wonder, if, while we probably do well to notice what ancient Celtic culture may have gotten wrong, it would be sad indeed if we did not appreciate and learn from what they got right. In their attentiveness to the world around them, they discerned and appreciated much that we easily miss.

I also find myself wondering if some sadness is not also appropriate for the way that, over the years, (because some of the practices, customs or patterns of living that reflect a deep respect for nature can be traced back to a time when Christian ideas were either not yet known, or were not flourishing), some have concluded that they are somehow inherently inappropriate or evil -- rather than noticing how these things were transformed once the message of Jesus was received, and difference between art and Artist made clearer? Perhaps it is possible that we don't need to choose between appreciation for the Artist and sensibilities that honor the artwork as much as we may have thought, but only to place them in their proper relationship, preserving the richness and value of both? It makes me wonder . . .

• I wonder if It is when we fail to do this, that we run a significant risk of ultimately diminishing the value and meaning of both?

• I wonder why it is that when some hear an ancient Christian Celtic prayer that uses imagery that recognizes the power and presence of God in the created world, that we can be quicker to point out how the language shows the marks of a pre-Christian past, than we are to see how the sense of awareness this culture has cultivated has been transformed and expressed in response to the Christian God they have now come to understand and serve?

• I wonder how much we, at times at least, suffer from misplaced suspicion that leads us to strain at gnats without noticing that may be choking on camels?

Perhaps the most obvious examples of where, on the one hand, our lack or awareness, or on the other hand, our over-reaction, shows up, is among those whose picture of God and awareness of God's presence in the "natural" world (or lack thereof) reflects a diminished way of seeing? This results in a perspective that discerns little more than crops to be harvested and raw materials to be used and exploited at will -- rather than a precious finely tuned gift that has been shared with us, and which needs to be handled with reverence and care, so that we neither mute the Voice that speaks there, or diminish our ability to see that the hand of the Artist Whose work, even though marred by the presence of sin, still communicates powerfully. Christian stewardship is much more than resource management, but has at its core a deep sense of awe, appreciation and reverence.

And so, as I continue to walk, pausing for awhile to listen to the wind in the trees, feel the sun on my face, noticing both sound and silences, and the intricate artistry displayed in both the large and small things that are alive and growing around me, I am reminded again how infrequently I pause long enough to be as aware as I might be, and how much more I see when I do.

Thumbing through the Psalms, I come across places where this group of Hebrew believers, in a way that expresses not only the cultural heritage that had shaped them, but also the God Whose presence and character had been revealed to them in a more personal way, give expression to their faith. Among them are these:

Psalm 19: 1-4 (NIV)
The heavens declare the glory of God
the skies proclaim the work of his hands
Day after day they pour forth speech;
night after night they display knowledge.
There is no speech or language
where their voice is not heard
Their voice goes out into all the earth,
their words to the end of the world.

Psalm 1:1-3 (NIV)
Blessed is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked
or stand in the way of sinners
or sit in the seat of mockers
But his delight is in the law of the LORD,
and on his law he meditates day and night.
He is like a tree planed by streams of water,
which yields its fruit in season
and whose leaf does not wither.
Whatever he does prospers.

Psalm 36 5-9 (NIV)
Your love, O LORD, reaches to the heavens,
your faithfulness to the skies.
Your righteousness is like the mighty mountains
your justice like the great deep
O LORD, you preserve both man and beast
How priceless is your unfailing love!
Both high and low among men find refuge in the shadow of your wings
They feast on the abundance of your house;
you give then drink from your river of delights.

Psalm 42 1,2, 7 (NIV)
As the deer pants for streams of water,
so my soul pants for you, O God.
My soul thirsts for God, for the living God
When can I go and meet with God? . . .
Deep calls to deep in the roar of your waterfalls;
all your waves and breakers have swept over me . . .
For with you is the fountain of life
in your light we see light

And then, from these Psalms that express such a close connection with nature as a place where God's presence and activity can be glimpsed, looking through the book on Celtic Christian prayer, I find selections like these: (taken from the book mentioned above and referenced below):

Bless O Lord the food we are about to eat and we pray you O God may it be good for our body and our soul and if there is any poor creature hungry or thirsty walking the road may God send him in to us so that we can share the good with him- just as He shares his gifts with all of us.

(And this prayer for cattle)
Pastures smooth, long, and spreading, Grassy meads aneath your feet, The friendship of God the Son to bring you home To the fields of the fountains . . . Closed be every pit to you, Smoothed be every knoll to you, Cosy every exposure to you, Beside the cold mountains.

(and this hymn)
Bless to me, O God The earth beneath my foot,
Bless to me, O God, The path whereon I go;
Bless to me, O God, The thing of my desire
Thou Evermore of evermore,
Bless Thou to me my rest.

Bless to me the thing Whereon is set my mind,
Bless to me the thing Whereon is set my love;
Bless to me the thing Whereon is set my hope;
O Thou King of kings Bless Thou to me mine eye!

It has been a good time for walking, reflecting, praying, and being just a bit more aware than I was when I began, particularly . . .

• of the extent to which I too often live less aware than I should

• of how much there is to notice (and enjoy) when I take the time to pause, listen, and pay attention

• of the reality that those who are willing to pay attention, may actually be more responsive to the recognition of God's presence in the world, than some who may be Christians but live in ways that are largely unaware. (This may mean that there are great opportunities here to both learn a lot about what it means to live with greater awareness from those who do, and to share a clearer picture of the kind of God revealed by Jesus with those who may not know.)

• and maybe even that, among those who fear "end time deceptions" of some sort, perhaps less worry ought to spent over those who seek to focus our attention on a greater awareness of God's gracious presence in the world and inviting us to live in ways that are both appropriate and responsive, and rather be more concerned about those forces than band together to dull those perceptions by offering a "beast like" (in the apocalyptic sense of the term) alternative that invites an entirely different kind of response.
  

• And perhaps most of all, an increased appreciation for what Paul says when he speaks of "
  

  The God who made the world and everything in it [as] the Lord of heaven and earth . . . [Who] did this so that men would seek him and perhaps reach out for him and find him, though he is not far from each one of us. For in him we live and move and have our being." Acts 17:24, 27-28 (NIV)
  

  
  

NOTE ON THE JOURNEY RETREATS: These are a series of two day retreats, which are jointly sponsored by Southeastern California Conference and The Leadership Institute for pastors to have protected, unhurried time to spend alone with God, reflecting on our own spiritual formation, and on how healthy spirituality informs and intersects with ministry - a wonderful gift our Conference provides for us, the value of which I cannot adequately express here . . . but if you'd like to know a little more about it, you can read more here.

NOTE: For those interested, the book I am looking at today is "The Celtic Way of Prayer" by Esther De Waal.

Immigration

Immigration

Visiting Ellis Island last summer with my family provided an opportunity to reflect on what it must have been like to find oneself as a stranger in a strange land, as I walked the halls where so many people had hopefully and fearfully gathered, waiting to be "processed." To be sure, for many, the most immediate issues that outweighed all others were simply those of survival. If you were even allowed into the country, would you be able to get established and "make it"? For those who did, there would be other questions to wrestle with. What were the things that mattered most, that were the core of who you were as a person, that you would cling to, cherish and preserve as you entered this new country? What were the non-negotiables? What would you leave behind as you adapted to your new surroundings and became part of a new community?

Still thinking a bit about the "patriotism" post, I was struck again this week by the way scripture describes the experience of God's people as strangers and aliens (immigrants) in this world with their primary citizenship in another place. In spite of the cultural forces that seek to diminish and suppress other senses of identity (the "become just like us or go home" kind of mentality), Christians, like immigrants, are given the unique task of becoming fully engaged citizens in the world in which they live, while yet preserving, maintaining, and primarily living out of, an identity that is from elsewhere. While Jesus proclaimed that the Kingdom of God had arrived and is indeed among us (as the hymn proclaims, "This is My Father's world"), He was also clear that it was not "of" this world -- a paradox that can leave immigrants feeling very much "a part of things" at one moment, and yet somewhat alone and not really understood the next. For children of immigrants who are born in a new country, and who are raised with the interesting mix of values and perspectives that come both from what has been preserved and newly embraced, the task of sorting may feel different on some levels, but is no less complex.

The context in which I was in touch with my "inner immigrant" this week came in the middle of a conversation with other pastors about, of all things, how finances are allocated in the organizational structure of which our church is a part. As people talked about where cuts could be made in order to be sure the things that mattered the most were properly financed, I was struck by the kinds of things that were considered to be peripheral or somewhat optional (or at least not central), and the things that were not (say a 2-3% cost of living increase). Where I most experienced my "immigrant moment" as someone suggested that one those items to consider that could be cut, along with things like excess postage and printing costs, were a series of retreat experiences that have become known as "The Journey." (This was actually more of a passing comment that a direct proposal, and I mention it mainly because of the thought process it initiated in me, rather than because it was in itself a position being advocated)

(By way of explanation, for those who don't know what "The Journey" refers to -- it is a series of retreats which focus on providing time and space for pastors to intentionally attend to their own spiritual life and how that is expressed in ministry. For further comments on the significance of this process, check out this link (you will need to download it to view the PDF file). . . in fact, you will probably not understand why I found this significant without reading the short articles the link will take you to). What struck such an unusually odd chord in me, was that one of the major (and relativley inexpensive ways) that our church structure intentionally provides resources that directly support the essiential core of what ministry is all about was, at least momentarily in the course of conversation, in the same bin with excess postage.

It felt for a moment somewhat like what I imagine it might be like for an immigrant standing on the shores of a strange land. And, aside from (well, maybe also because of) my personal connection with and investment in the Journey process and what it represents, (again with the caveat that no one was speaking against it here), what struck me was how easily various cultural and ecconomic forces can order and direct our thoughts, energy, focus and resources. In varying degrees of contrast, Immigrants sometimes find themselves ordering things in ways that don't seem to be fully congruent with, or understood by, the conventional wisdom of the culture they are immersed in.

Actually my point in all of this really doesn't have much to do with the particulars of the conversation that stimulated my reflections, but rather has more to do with how it reminded me that, even in the midst of religious vocations (pastors are far from immune to this), the way we order things matters, and does in fact have more far reaching implications that we sometimes appreciate. All of which brought to mind this quote from Eugene Peterson's book Under The Unpredictable Plant:

Spiritual leadership vocations in America are badly undercapitalized . . . The conditions in which we must acquire a spirituality for our vocation -- an interior adequate to the exterior -- are, it must be admitted, not friendly. Our vocations are bounded on one side by consumer appetites, on the other by a marketing mind-set. Pastoral vocation is interpreted from the congregational side as the work of meeting people's religious needs on demand at the best possible price and from the clerical side as satisfying those same needs quickly and efficiently. These conditions quickly reduce the pastoral vocation to religious economics, pull it into relentless competitiveness, and deliver it into the hand of public relations and marketing experts.
It is no more difficult to pursue the pastoral vocation than any other. Vocations in homemaking, science, agriculture, education, and business when embraced with bibilically informed commitments are likewise demanding and require an equivalent spirituality. But each requires its own specific attention. What is essential for pastors is that we focus on our particular "pestilence that stalks at noonday." In our eagerness to be sympathetic to others and meet their needs, to equip them with a spirituality adequate to their discipleship, we must not fail to take with full seriousness our [own] . . . page 3-4

It is remarkably easy to not keep what should be central, central . . . to take for granted what needs faithful intentionality . . . to be seduced by our culture into shifting our focus . . . to make room for Baal next to Yahweh . . . and to not even be aware when we do this . .. which should keep us both humble and gracious.

There are also those moments of clarity, even when walking through the structures we have built to house this thing we call church, that I feel like I have arrived on the shores of a strange land . . .where I may indeed have a place and a purpose . . . and where I may enjoy many new and old, rich and meaningful, relationships . . . but still, for lots of reasons (some more positive than others) I can still feel quite out of place. This keeps us yearning for what is yet to come, and helps motivate us to continue to work towards realizing it more fully now.

Strangers, aliens, immigrants . . . Interesting metaphors scripture uses to seek to capture the experience of what it is like, trying to live the life of the Kingdom while still being fully engaged in the life of our world.