Deep Calling Deep: A Sublime Encounter

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Mick Turner

Come, follow me….

 John Eldredge and the late Brent Curtis, in their book entitled The Sacred Romance, describe the various ways, both vivid and subtle, that the Divine calls to us in his relentless pursuit of relationship:

  Someone or something has romanced us from the beginning with creek-side singers and pastel sunsets, with the austere majesty of snowcapped mountains and the poignant flames of autumn colors telling us of something – or someone – leaving, with a promise to return. These things can, in an unguarded moment, bring us to our knees with longing for this something or someone who is lost; someone or something only our heart recognizes.

 When we find ourselves in earshot of such a calling, we need to recognize that we are both blessed and vulnerable. We are blessed in that the divine source, the creative power that put this awe-inspiring universe together, seeks relationship with us. The incomprehensible intelligence that maintains all that we see and even more remarkably, the mysterious quantum realm that we don’t see, together in harmonious balance desires intimacy with us – intimacy beyond anything we have ever known.

 Yes, friend, God calls to us in a gentle voice that only the mystic can truly hear. And in that persistent calling, the Creator invites us to join in the mysterious dance of spiritual transformation. Unfortunately, far too few of us truly comprehend the critical importance of this divine calling, which often rides in softly on the fragrant breeze of an early summer evening or conversely, in the absolute silence of moonlit midnight in the depth of January. Of those who do hear the sublime calling, even fewer respond and this a tragedy beyond measure, as it often leaves those desperate souls with an incessant pondering of what might have been. C.S. Lewis speaks of this holy pursuit and its profound significance:

 Even in your hobbies, has there not always been some secret attraction which the others are curiously ignorant of – something, not to be identified with, but always on the verge of breaking through, the smell of cut wood in the workshop or the clap-clap of water against the boat’s side? Are not all lifelong friendships born at the moment when at last you meet another human being who has some inkling (but faint and uncertain even in the best) of that something you were born desiring, and which, beneath the flux of other desires and in all the momentary silences between the louder passions, night and day, year by year, from childhood to old age, you are looking for, watching for, listening for? You have never had it. All the things that have ever deeply possessed your soul have been hints of it – tantalizing glimpses, promises never quite fulfilled, echoes that died away just as they caught your ear. But if it should really become manifest – if there ever came an echo that did not die away but swelled into the sound itself – you would know it. Beyond all possibility of doubt you would say, “Here at last is the thing I was made for.” We cannot tell each other about it. It is the secret signature of each soul, the incommunicable and unappeasable want, the thing we desired before we met our wives or made our friends or chose our work, which we shall still desire on our deathbeds, when the mind no longer knows wife or friend or work. While we are, this is. If we lose this, we lose all.

 Lewis is describing that universal “something,” that existential empty spot that Augustine said could only be filled by God. It is, indeed, the call of the sublime lover, the Creator himself, beckoning us to turn and face our true home. It is the baying call of the Hound of Heaven, which is paradoxically both a blessing and an irritant.

 Most amazingly, he is not calling us to go into a monastic hideaway or a hermit’s cave, but to stay put right where we are. And if we stay and we become open and discerning, he will use the mundane events of our daily round as his methodology of instruction. More often than not, God’s classroom is characterized by the pedagogy of the ordinary and it is precisely in the realm of the unremarkable that true divine alchemy occurs. Sue Monk Kidd, a woman who knows this process through personal experience, describes it this way:

 It seems to me that Christ continually calls us through the daily events of our lives…In moments like these God stirs the waters of our lives and beckons us beyond where we are to a new dimension of closeness with Him…God desires to transform certain experiences of ours into awakening events. These may be our most common moments, but if we let them they can become doorways to a deeper encounter with Him. Who knows at what moment we may begin to wake up to the astonishing fact that Emmanuel (God with us) is still God’s name, that every moment the Word of God, Jesus Christ, is coming to us.

 I know that in my experience, God calls me in ways I never expected. I have discerned his voice in the sacred silence of meditative stillness and his message has often slapped me to my senses as it spoke from the pages of Holy Scripture. I have also learned to be increasingly sensitive to his call as manifest in the choreographic harmony of the natural world and especially when it dances in the eyes of a child.

© L.D. Turner 2011/All Rights Reserved

(Excerpted from Sacred Sanctuaries; L.D. Turner; 2010)

Related articles

• The Divine Whisper: Come, Follow Me (lifebrook.wordpress.com)
• A Franciscan Benediction (With Addendum) (lifebrook.wordpress.com)

Wise Words for Today

Silence and solitude both work in hidden ways, resembling the work that goes on during the winter. In the cold months, it appears nothing is going on. Animals hibernate. Nothing grows. Everything is still and at rest. But in the important sleep of winter, life renews itself. In silence and solitude, God works in ways that are hidden, but nevertheles vital to life…….We create a space in which the spiritual characteristics of Christ can grow within us. And out of this growing, transforming spirit, we begin responding to life rather than reacting to it. From our quiet time apart we gain inner silence, and that frees us from the world. It equips us to grow as the person God is forming us to be.

Jan Johnson

(from When the Soul Listens)

Mystical Prayer and Personal Epiphanies

L. D. Turner

For many sincere followers of Jesus, the Master’s words about being with us always and about his love for us are little more than arid ideas with little emotional, experiential impact. This is due to the fact that so many times we are distracted by “busyness” and spend little time communing with the light and love that are the first emanations from Christ’s being. The only way to rectify this and turn God’s love for us into a living, life-changing reality is through regular periods of quiet communion. Contemporary spiritual director Jan Johnson speaks clearly to this issue, reminding us of the importance of our times of spiritual refreshing:

 One of Jesus’ greatest promises was this: “I am with you always.” (Matthew 28:20), but we may not experience this. Instead, we keep praying, “God be with us.” That’s because we are distracted by life’s thousand demands and by our habit of filling in empty time slots with entertainment. Our mind flashes from one thing to another, always occupied. A weekly visit to church can’t begin to penetrate this busyness. Contemplation reconnects us with God in the midst of this scatterdness. Life pulls me in so many directions – between the demands of my work, my husband’s plans, the kid’s needs…..I may say I am “thirsty for God as the deer is for water,” but at the moment I need to get my hair cut. However, when I pause to contemplate and be with God, I sense that this God who holds the universe together can also hold me together. In the quiet, I recall how God has helped me in the past. Without the clamor of demands around me, I remember that I am one God so loves.

  Contemplative practice can be far more than a powerful mode of mystical prayer – it can also be an exercise in healing. This is especially true in relation to psycho-spiritual issues. Jan Johnson discusses a few of the ways in which contemplative practice can help with personal healing:

 The simple practice of contemplation creates a bond with God in which God can heal the scatterdness of our lives and these other unhealthy spiritual states you may be experiencing:

 Spiritual dryness

Guilt and Shame

Lack of Direction and Purpose

 I don’t know about you, but in my life, I can relate to all three of these negative psycho-spiritual states. And, like Sister Jan, I have found that contemplative prayer, in whatever form it might take, can be of immense value.

 Evelyn Underhill, that master of the mystic life, vividly described the nature of her prayer life in its more negative aspects:

 We mostly spend our lives conjugating three verbs: to want, to have, and to do. Craving, clutching, and fussing, we are kept in perpetual unrest. My jabbering prayers have been full of what I want, what I think I should have, and what I want God to do.

 Johnson goes on to describe how our self-absorbed prayers have a tendency to lead us down the road of spiritual anguish and despair. In the end, it results in a sense of hopeless desperation and the irony of it all is that it stems from our own misguided notions of what prayer is to begin with:

 Imagining He has let us down, we become estranged from Him. In a culture that teaches us to perform for rewards, prayer becomes one more place of defeat and God is one more disappointment. We may even keep going through the motions spiritually – going to church, helping others – but in our heart we wonder, “If God is good, wouldn’t He give me the good things I want? Because He doesn’t, either God is not good, or I’m hopeless….We come to a dismal place because we misunderstand prayer as a means to have our desires fulfilled instead of a place to encounter the compassionate, all-seeking God.

 There are times, those special times when I sink deeply enough into the silence, when I come face to face with my own tendency to not pay close enough attention to what is going on in these “quiet times.” I love the way the writer closes out the paragraph with that stinging juxtaposition about whether we see prayer as a place where we have our desires filled or a venue where we encounter the compassionate, all-seeking God.

 Sometimes I think we lose track of how incredible the whole concept and process of prayer is. I know I am guilty as charged. In my work at LifeBrook I once designed a two-day training, not on prayer as many people had asked, but on preparing for prayer. You see, I had come to the point of awareness where I saw that I had not been giving the practice of prayer the place of honor it deserved.

 It is hard to express this in words, but I had a personal epiphany around this issue. It dawned on me, in my gut, that when I went into my prayer closet I was coming into the presence of that very being, that inexplicable intelligence responsible for putting together this incredible universe, with all its complexity, diversity, and finely-tuned balance. Friends, it literally took my breath away.

 What made this prayer experience so profound for me was the reality that God, the divine being and creator of all that is and ever will be, not only wanted to spend time with me, but he actually loved me. And what is even more amazing was the fact that his love was not static, but instead, was dynamic – a genuine affection that provided me with provision, purpose, and passion for life. As I sat there in silence that blessed morning, the words of the prophet Jeremiah jumped off the page and penetrated my heart in a way both novel and life-changing:

 For I know the plans I have for you…They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope. In those days when you pray, I will listen. If you look for me wholeheartedly, you will find me. I will be found by you…I will end your captivity and restore your fortune. (Jeremiah 29:11-14a)

 As I said, this episode literally left me panting for breath, but it didn’t end there. As is my practice, I normally take a book of devotions with me into my prayer sanctuary, just in case the Spirit leads me to open and read, especially if my period of prayer seems do be without direction. I opened the book, a short collection of essays on scriptural themes. It was no coincidence that I opened the book to the page where I had placed book mark, totally at random, prior to beginning this period of prayer. You can imagine what I felt when I began to read these words by Lloyd Ogilvie:

 Talk about a conversation opener! Imagine someone you love and admire and whose thoughts and opinions you cherish, saying to you, “You are constantly on my mind. And when I think of you they are wonderful thoughts of peace and future happiness for you. I’m pulling for the very best for you. What a joy it is to be your cheerleader!” I would not be difficult to find time for conversation with a person like that. Multiply the best of human care and concern for us a billion times and you’ve only begun to fathom God’s love for us as He calls us into conversation. That’s the whole point of time alone with God. It is to allow Him the opportunity to love us.

 Rather than write more about this, let me issue you a challenge. Over the next week, spend a block of time each day, say 15-30 minutes, during which you reflect on just what prayer is and what it is not. Really spend time with this, keep a small journal of your thoughts, and especially consider just who and what it is you are encountering when you go into prayer.

 Don’t approach this as an exercise in intellectual snobbery or any kind of effort at theological description. Instead, let your heart lead you into your response.

Be especially open and sensitive to meeting the incredible being that created all that is, even you, in all its incredible complexity.

If you persist with this exercise over a period of several weeks, I predict your prayer time will be forever transformed. Try it and see.

 © L.D. Turner 2010/All Rights Reserved

Sacred Silence and the Inner Light: Part Two

Mick Turner

As we saw in Part One, the practice of Christian meditation in no way involves emptying the mind. Instead, it is aimed at positioning ourselves in a receptive state whereby we can have a fresh encounter with our Inner Light. The practice of contemplation is central here, however. Through it we connect with the Holy Spirit at the deepest level by entering in through the Sacred Silence.

 

Quaker mystic Thomas Kelly again speaks of the experience of taking the comfort and wisdom we find in the Sacred Silence and carrying it into the cauldron of daily living. Listen carefully to his words:

 

…and in brief intervals of overpowering visitation we are able to carry the sanctuary frame of mind out into the world, into its turmoil and fitfulness, and in a hyperaesthesia of the soul, we shall see all mankind tinged with deeper shadows, and touched with Galilean glories. Powerfully are the springs of our will moved to an abandon of singing love toward God; powerfully are we moved to a new and overcoming love toward time-blinded men and all creation. In this Center of Creation all things are ours, and we are Christ’s and Christ is God’s. We are owned men, ready to run and not be weary and to walk and not faint.

 

Notice here how in very potent language Kelly alludes to Christ’s great prayer in John 17. Jesus prayed that we be his, just as he is God’s. When, through the grace of God, the work of the Holy Spirit, and our own diligent practice of entering into the Sacred Silence, we become more and more capable of abiding in our inner sanctuary we make manifest that chain of possession spoken of by Christ. Kelly tells a poignant truth when he says “we are owned men.”

 

In another relevant passage Kelly states:

 

Continuously renewed immediacy, not receding memory of the Divine Touch, lies at the base of religious living. Let us explore together the secret of a deeper devotion, a more subterranean sanctuary of the soul, where the Light Within never fades, but burns, a perpetual flame, where the wells of living water of divine revelation rise up continuously, day by day and hour by hour, steady and transfiguring.

 

Kelly’s teaching here is most profound. Beginning with the reality that only regular, repetitive practice of Sacred Silence can give us “renewed immediacy of the Divine Touch.” Unless we are diligent and consistent in our pursuit of this sacred sanctuary and its inherent blessings, we run the risk of letting the experience of the Divine become little more than a quickly fading memory.

 

Kelly then goes on to reiterate the fact that it is in this Sacred Silence where we find not only the Inner Light, but also those ever-flowing wells of living water Christ spoke of. Further, he reminds us that these waters are more than refreshing, although they are certainly that, but also emphasizes that these wellsprings are “transfiguring.” These blessed streams are capable of changing us at our core. These waters of healing and transformation have their source in God’s unlimited gift of grace.

 

In order to get a firm grasp on these issues, it is important that we have a deeper understanding of a pair of key principles. The first is related to the various methods of meditative tradition in our faith that are conducive to the kind of receptivity that was described above. Second, we need to have a least a modicum of insight into the concept of the Inner Light.

 

In terms of Christian meditation, space does not permit a detailed explanation of the different meditative practices. The context of an article or a blog entry is much too brief. However, we can at least look at a few of these beneficial methodologies.

 

I have personally found meditation, especially Christian meditative practices, to be among the most spiritually lucrative practices I have ever undertaken. Spiritually, my walk of faith grows stronger, deeper, and more stable when I commit myself to regular periods of meditation practice.

 

In terms of technique, among the more popular forms of Christian meditation are the following:

 

John Main’s Christian Meditation

 

The Prayer of the Heart

 

Centering Prayer

 

Ignatian Meditations

 

“Christian Meditation,” aside from being a generic term, is also the name of a specific meditation technique developed by John Main, a Benedictine monk who was stationed primarily in India and was a disciple of the great Catholic genius Bede Griffiths. In brief, this meditative practice is similar to “mantra meditation” whereby a word or phrase is repeated in order to quiet the mind. The word selected by Main is the four-syllable word “Maranatha.” Maranatha end the final book in the Bible, Revelation, and is Aramaic for “Come, Lord.” In Christian meditation, one repeats the word with equal time and stress on each syllable, Ma-ra-na-tha. When thoughts intrude on the mind, one does not suppress the thoughts, but instead, allows them to pass gently as one returns to the word. According to Main, the word Maranatha was used extensively as a prayer tool, especially in the Fourth Century works of John Cassain.

 

The “Prayer of the Heart” or the “Jesus Prayer” is from scripture as well. The practice itself involves repeating the phrase of scripture in coordination with the breath. The scripture in full is “Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me a sinner.” Often the phrase is shortened over time to Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me,” or “Lord Jesus, Have Mercy.” The technique was developed in the Eastern Orthodox Church and is still widely practiced in all Orthodox traditions, especially the Russian Church. The prayer’s popularity in the West spread with the appearance of the anonymous spiritual work entitled, The Way of a Pilgrim.

 

“Centering Prayer,” developed and popularized by Thomas Keating and Basil Pennington, both Catholic monks and writers, is based on instructions given in the 14^th Century Christian Classic The Cloud of Unknowing. The technique involves choosing an appropriate word to use as sort of a ‘hitching post” for the mind. Whenever the mind begins to wander from the silence, you gently return to repeating the word. Once the mind is again brought back under control, the word is dropped until the mind wanders again.

 

The Ignatian Exercises, developed in the 17^th Century by St. Ignatius, founder of the Jesuits, involves visualizing basic scenes from the gospel stories and putting ourselves in the image.

 

Whatever technique one chooses as the focus of their meditative practice, the important principle involves the training of the mind to be still. This is no small task, as anyone who had tried meditation well understands. The mind is like a chattering monkey that resists all efforts to bring it under control. Still, with persistence, diligence, and the help of the Holy Spirit, the mind gradually but surely comes under increasing control.

 

(c) L.D. Turner 2008/All Rights Reseved