Talk of Heaven

I have a tough time whenever I hear people discussing "heaven." My little brain goes into a tailspin. It conjures up a myriad of images: angels strumming harps on puffy clouds, cherubim flying among the stars and seraphim protecting God's throne, St. Peter waiting to sign me in or kick me out, and so much happiness and joy that one might opt for the other place. What was it that Mark Twain said?  Heaven for climate, hell for companionship?

Of course, I'm being silly here, and what happens to us after we die is of great interest and concern to those of us who are still among the living. As Christians we hear a lot of talk about the Kingdom of God, and eternal life, and many other phrases that may be meant to bring us peace, but in my case, sometimes cause anxiety. Heck. You're reading a post by someone who looks for her phone and her glasses while talking on that phone and wearing said eye gear.  Heaven is way too big of a concept for this little mind to wrap itself around.

So, instead of attempting to wax eloquent on a subject I know nothing about, let me instead share a wonderful post by Derek Olsen that I found on The Episcopal Cafe blog.  He says it all so much better than I could.

May you find it helpful in your musings about life, death, and the beyond...In the meantime, I hope your today is filled with purpose, joy and boundless love.

http://www.episcopalcafe.com/daily/theology/salvation_what_it_isnt.php

Peace and all good things...

Every Bite

Food and I have always had an interesting relationship. I was very fat as a child, and many of my memories are of making sure I was sick on weighing day at school, being called Fats Finney (my maiden name) and always being picked last for softball, even though I was a good runner. I think the teachers thought I couldn't run because of my weight so they made me catcher, since the catcher often gets hit by the ball and they figured I'd have enough natural padding to keep me from getting hurt.

At 14, as many adolescent girls do, I started dieting and basically went into starvation mode. I was never anorexic, but came very close. I lost weight and suddenly became popular, something I harbored a secret resentment about for long time. I hope my being overweight as a child has helped me be more compassionate to children who are on the outer fringes of the social strata. I know what it feels like to be ostracized for one's physical appearance.

Throughout the years, the ghost of that chubby little girl haunted me; I was forever obsessed with my weight. Although I've never been obese, a couple of times I've come close, but always lost the weight through exercise, sheer will and near starvation.

I'm older now and the weight doesn't come off as fast as it used to. I'm 20 pounds overweight and would like to lose the fat. It dawned on me that perhaps I could use prayer to help me eat healthily and care for my body with respect and even a sort of reverence. I'm not talking about wanting to look beautiful for others as much as for myself these days. And when I say beautiful, I mean a type of beauty that originates inside and can be seen on the outside. It's about balance, and discipline, and living in the present moment.

It's true that I don't have to lose weight to find that beauty, but I feel that anything that governs me and trumps God's importance in my life is something I need to take a close look at. In my case, I have used food in an addictive way for years. My obsession with my weight has been part of that addiction. It's time, I think, to turn to God to help me overcome this self-absorbled behavior.

Even though taking a spiritual approach to my eating seemed like a good idea, I found myself wondering if it was "okay" to pray about a behavior. I understand praying about staying sober because that, in my mind, is an illness. But being overweight? Isn't it supremely vain of me to think about food and weight and God?

Here's where my previous Buddhist training kicked in. Pema Chodron, a Tibetan Buddhist monk, writes about how to eat with reverence. I know that in many religious traditions, including Christianity, it is customary to bless the meal and thank God before we eat, but Chodron, as a Buddhist, takes a different approach. She suggests that when you sit down to a meal, you dedicate the first bite to someone who has taught you something in your life. You dedicate the second bite to someone who gave you something, and the third bite is for everyone who is not fortunate enough to be partaking of a meal such as the one you are eating.

I love this approach, and have incorporated my religious practice with hers. Before I take the first bite, I bow my head and thank God for the meal. I do the three bites according to Chodron, then I concentrate on where all the food has come from. THAT can really be an amazing experience. I also look at labels of what I'm cooking to see where the food has come from, and then I think about all the beings, animals and people, who have made it possible for this meal to come to my table.

When I am out with friends I don't usually pray over my food publicly. I do say a prayer silently, and I bless the meal for the unity it has brought in my life. As I eat each bite, I think about the people I am with and I listen, I really try to listen to what they have to say. At the end of the meal, I thank God for the blessing of friendship and family.

So, what about praying to lose weight? I think this is a fair request. I do it like this: "Dear God, please help me be present when I eat the food you have given me today. Help me remember all the people who are doing without food so that I can take in just what I need with reverence and love." I'm not asking to "lose" weight. I'm asking to treat the food and my body with respect, and I am treating it as an offering to God.

I do the same with exercise. I ask God to help me move forward in my day, which includes taking a walk. I have made the walk easier for myself by taking the dogs. That way, I am responsible to them and it holds me accountable. On rainy days I used to tell myself "Do I really want to have to walk in the rain and then have to clean the dogs off when I get back?" Now I say, "It's raining. So what. Rain is good for the flowers. Walking is good for the dogs and for me. God, help me please, do what is healthy for my four-footed friends and for this most imperfect two-footed creature, too."

Do I practice eating and exercising in a healthy way 100 percent of the time?  No, of course not. I strive for 80/20. It's about making it a habit. It's just like a habit of starting your day with prayer. Stopping to remember the three bites rule is probably the biggest challenge, though when I do, remembering those who have helped me and those who have given me something and those in need, has given my eating experience a depth it's never had before.

I don't know how long it will take to lose weight, or whether I'll even succeed. What matters is putting God first. It sounds so easy to do, but my humanness is forever putting a foot out in my path to trip me up. That's why committing to daily prayer and going to church weekly have become essential parts of my life.

I also love the fact that Christ had us remember him through a sacred meal. I try to remember that every time I sit down to eat.

I hope my discussion about food and God has been helpful. May every bite of food you eat nourish and fill your spirit with the loving presence of the blessed Trinity.

Peace and all good things...Amen

Rocks in My Shoes

It was bound to happen on this journey. It always does. I find an answer or begin a certain path and then I have one of "those" days and my serenity goes out the window.

The fundamental problem with my basic understanding of spirituality has been this confused notion that I'm supposed to be serene all the time, that uncomfortableness should not be part of the process.

It's simple. You meditate, you pray, you go to church, you study the Bible, you take communion, you do service, you try to be a relatively good person... so things should be nice and tidy, right?

Well...no, they aren't. I'm finding out that this Christian journey is anything but tidy. I'm this messy, blurry-around-the-edges human being, who sometimes wakes up in the morning feeling anxious about how the bills are going to get paid, or whether or not someone likes me, or wondering what the meaning of this very existence is all about. And these kinds of thoughts creep into my doubting mind even before my feet have hit the floor.

Then there are nights like this one. It is now 2:15 a.m. and here I lie, feeling a vague sense of ennui. I'm not depressed, just a little lost in it all. What is it that can turn a day around from one full of promise and hope to one of fear and doubt?

I would like to tell you that I haven't been praying or meditating, and that is the reason for the shift in mood. In fact, I have been diligent about my meditation and prayer, and therein lies the very answer to my question.

Somewhere along the line I got the notion that meditation and prayer were designed to make me feel calm and in control, and that I would feel this guru-like serenity that would carry me through the day on a comfy pink cloud.

What I am discovering is quite the opposite. The deeper I go into meditation and prayer, the more I see of myself and my behavior, and the more aware I become of my shortcomings and character defects. This was not what I set out to do in pursuing spirituality. My hope was that I would suddenly be enlightened and start feeling more sure of myself. Instead, I've come to realize that the spiritual path is not going to be an easy road. Worldliness, cynicism and desolation are the easy paths, often disguised by the acquiring of things, of prestige, money, notoriety, power, etc. The spiritual path, if begun with a sincere heart, always leads to a tearing away of the mask, of having to take a deeper look into oneself. I'm not suggesting that going to church is a therapy session. The Bible is not a self-help book. What church and the Bible give us is a way to plumb the deepest, and sometimes darkest parts of ourselves.

The saving grace of meditation and prayer for me is that it is a constant reminder of the bigger picture. I have come to believe that this force of love, which I choose to call God, permeates every living, breathing thing on earth and actually loves me, despite all my imperfections and defects. This Creative Force, so magnificent that I cannot even begin to fathom Its essence, in some remarkable way cares about me, just as it cares about all other humans, even those who are most despised. That in itself amazes me, that this God not only loves children, and the poor, the weak and the lowly, but also loves criminals and dictators, the insane and those scorned by society. This God loves everyone. I get so analytical sometimes when contemplating God's unconditional love, that I start to feel overwhelmed by it. But do I really need to understand it to trust it, and can I even begin to comprehend the vastness of this source of absolute love?

I have recently replaced the words faith in God to trust in God. I am building a relationship based on trust, and I think I am getting there through what I am learning about this fascinating, very human and yet divine entity named Christ.

His is not a pretty story. The nativity leads directly to the cross. It's a sad tale from the get go because this God incarnate is completely the opposite of what I think a God on earth should be. Yes, Christ supposedly performed miracles, and he could turn water into wine, etc., etc. But his teachings are not about how to be miraculous and a crowd pleaser. He is asking me and he is asking you to turn your life completely around to follow Him. And the pay-off? You get to maybe understand what He is all about. You start to experience a connection with the Creator that goes beyond words. You begin seeing people and situations differently. Looking in the mirror becomes an act of expecting more out of yourself instead of an act of vanity.

To follow Him requires a boldness and a courage that I'm not sure I'm capable of. But for some strange reason I want to follow Him today, in spite of my fears and misgivings. The little voice inside me says "run away" while the Big Voice inside says, "Stay and dare to go on this adventure. You will be in pain sometimes, physical and emotional, maybe even often. You will be frightened and want to escape, but if you get past the uncomfortableness and the doubt, the ultimate gift is authenticity of spirit, of truly knowing oneself, the good and the bad, and learning how to be of ultimate service to others.

As I said, this path is not the easiest one, especially in the short run.  In the long run, however, I believe the experience is ultimately transcendent. And it is comforting to know that even though I sometimes want to ignore the fact that Christ is walking right beside me, I believe that He is with me every step of the way. Maybe this realization is part of my uncomfortableness. Now that I've begun this pilgrimage, there are expectations on me to go the distance.

Travelers depend on each other: they trust each other to watch each other's backs. Christ is depending on me not to let Him down on the journey, though I am sure I will, many times. But His hand, if I am willing to take it, will always be there to raise me up when I fall.

So even though I've got a few rocks in my shoes right now, I choose the adventure of staying on the path. After all, it's not so bad when your traveling with Christ..and, oh yeah, with the rest of you, too.

Peace and all good things...Amen

A Melting Taking Place

I've always thought of myself as a caring, emotional person. But the truth is, eight years ago I walked away from God and instead of putting a wall around my heart, I made sure a thick layer of hard ice surrounded it to keep Him out.

Last year I lost three people dear to me--my best friend of 33 years, my mother-in-law, and my dearest colleague who died in a hit and run motorcycle accident at the age of 39. I was an unaffiliated practicing Buddhist at the time. Yet no matter how much I meditated and how much I studied, I could not find peace. It was not until I went back to church that the shift began.

I have said several times in past posts that my Buddhist practice added much to my life. It taught me the value of going into silence, much about having a compassionate heart, and how to work at living in the present moment. What it lacked for me was a power greater than myself, outside of my "self". The whole time I practiced, I was aware of God, the God I had abandoned, lovingly waiting for my return.

I do believe that Christ dwells in us as well as outside of us, but in Buddhism I seemed only to get to the void. I now believe that beyond the void is God, an entity I cannot truly fathom, a being I am wholly at a loss to describe or explain. But Christ, Christ I can relate to. For me, Christ is the bridge to the Father. Why and how, I don't know. I dont understand it. I just know.

Recently, I got some distressing news about some family members who are in crisis. In the past, I would have detached from it all, smugly protecting myself from my feelings by saying "It's not my problem." It is true that there is very little I can do to improve the situation, but I was suddenly overcome with compassion for those who were suffering. I didn't like the feelings. Smug is so much easier than the pain involved in feeling compassion. Compassion puts you right there in someone else's pain. It is visceral and often highly uncomfortable. But for the first time in a long time, I allowed myself to feel it. Another family member asked me how I could love the person causing so much chaos. I answered, "I don't know how. I just do."

When I was a child I cried a lot. I was often told that I was overly sensitive and that I'd better learn to be tougher if I was going to "make it" in this world. For years I hated that part of me that felt everything so keenly. Since returning to church I feel a lot of that sensitivity resurfacing. I'm not talking about taking offense at what people say to me. I did that a lot when I was little because I was very overweight and was often teased about it. But I also had the capacity to care about others, even back then.

What I am experiencing today is a return to a childlike sensitivity, after years of trying to deny who I really am. I'm moving into the Easter season with a renewed hope that I can let myself feel Christ's suffering, and perhaps get a little closer to what it means to love others.

I believe that God came among us as Christ to experience what it means to be human, and to suffer for us so that we might be redeemed in Him. I find it fascinating that I am learning what it means to be fully human by opening my heart to Christ.

As this melting continues I am aware of a deep sense of gratitude for being more in touch with my feelings in the present. For this and for the many gifts I have been given in what I like to call "my goofy little life." I am so very thanksful to God. My heart's a little messy around the edges at the moment with all this melting going on, but with every passing day, things are warming up quite nicely.

Peace to you and may all good things come your way.

Awaiting the Precious Birth

I've always had difficulty with the Easter story, but never the birth of Christ.  Only recently have I been able to make any sort of connection between the two.

As a child growing up in the 50's, I loved singing Christmas carols and hearing the story about the Baby Jesus.  Interestingly, I learned those songs and the story of Christ's birth not at church, but at school.  Back in the 1950's, life was a little different.  The US was predominantly Christian, so it wasn't unusual to talk about Christmas in school.  I don't believe that we should do that in schools in this day and age, considering all the different faiths represented in our country today. (That's a topic for another posting.) But that's how the story reached me.

As a child I was not allowed to attend church, even though my mother was a Spanish teacher at a Catholic school.  My father was a "devote" atheist and forbid me to attend church until I was "old enough to make a decision about God on my own."  Much to his dismay, I made the choice to be baptized at the age of 14. Even so, I got pretty lost along the way.  If you've read my posts, you know that my odyssey to find Christ again has been incredibly circuitous.  I consider it a miracle that I have returned to my original faith, maybe not with open arms--I was highly skeptical upon my return--but with a heart that is learning how to stay open and willing to hear the Word.

This year, maybe because I've returned to church, I am experiencing the birth of Christ on a new level.  It does feel as if the Child Jesus is being born for the first time.  Every part of the story is touching my heart--Joseph and the very pregnant Mary searching for a place to sleep that night in the town of Bethlehem, the shepherds with their sheep and cattle present at the Savior's birth, and the Wise Men who followed a star that led them to a child they believed to be the Messiah.

Is the story true? Was Mary a virgin? Did it really happen this way?  I used to make myself crazy pondering these thoughts.  My pastor helped me look at Christ's life from a different perspective.  He told me about a Biblical scholar who, when asked, "Do you really believe the story of Jesus?" answered, "Well, it's the best story around."

It is the best story.  If you have misgivings as to the veracity of every single moment of Jesus's life, stop a moment.  Look at the story.  Look at what it tells us.  It is a story filled with hope, and it starts with the birth of a tiny, innocent babe.  I believe that God loved us so much that He wanted to connect with us in a way that would be visceral for Him.  He came into the world as one of us, to experience the full range of what it means to be human, and that includes pain and suffering.

Now the connection between the Christmas story and the Easter story makes more sense to me.  This God of ours, who love us so deeply, came among us to understand us better.  And in that understanding wanted to show, through his incarnation as Jesus, the way back to Him.

Whatever you believe, it is joyful to celebrate the coming of a child, any child into the world.  There should always be rejoicing at the birth of a precious infant.  That isn't always the case in our world.  We must remember this sad truth, and love all children everywhere, and pray for their safety and good health in the name of Jesus Christ.  The beauty of Christ's birth is that we can celebrate, knowing that this birth changed mankind forever.

When I attend the 11 p.m. service on Christmas eve at my church, I want to receive the Baby Jesus as the shepherds did that night so many centuries ago, with reverence, awe and a sense of hope that maybe, just maybe the birth of this Child, could bring peace and love into the hearts of all the peoples of the world.  Alleluia!*

*This word comes from the Hebrew "hallelu yah".  "Hallel" means "praise" in Hebrew, and "Yah" is short for "Yaweh".  Alleluia, therefore, means "Praise the Lord!"

I Need the Answer NOW!

I'm not an overly patient person, though I do believe I've gained a bit of it over the years--as a wife, a mother, and a co-worker--mainly out of necessity.

One area in which I still struggle with working at patience is when I am feeling an emotion whose source I can't immediately identify. I don't know if is part of our American culture or just a human trait, but I've noticed that so many of us become self-involved in needing to know why we are feeling some emotion at a particular moment. "I'm not happy today. I wonder if it is because it is cloudy outside, or because I'm facing a big challenge at work. Or maybe it's because my spouse isn't paying enough attention to me, or maybe I ate something that didn't agree with me, or (my favorite) maybe I'm just depressed." (I'm not talking about clinical depression here.) It's only recently that I've come to realize that trying to figure out through my intellect why I am feeling something isn't always the best way to find an answer.

Please understand, I am not minimizing feelings. They are a gift from God and are an essential part of our humanness. What I am talking about here is the ego's need to be in charge of our feelings. It becomes, in fact, a way to get up in my head and not really be aware of what my heart, body and spirit are trying to tell me. When I let my intellect take over it becomes the great "I" trying to figure out what's going on instead of getting quiet and opening myself up to experiencing what is passing through me.

I have always loved the phrase "Be still and know that I am God." (Psalm 46:10) When I find myself trying to "fix" the particular place I happen to be in, I sometimes stop and say this phrase. I believe it is God telling me to "Quiet down that over-active ego of yours, get calm and breathe into My loving stillness."

It is in the calm solitude of silence that I begin to accept my feelings and discover that I don't always need to over-analyze where I am at any given moment. The clarity will come if I allow myself to feel the feelings without having to understand them that very instant. I would even suggest that sometimes a feeling is occurring because God is loving us and guiding us in ways that are far beyond our comprehension. And if the feeling happens to be because we are going against our principles, or we are turning away from God, we are far more likely to be aware of what is going on if we stop and let God be in the silence with us.

I had what I consider a "God moment" with this particular Biblical phrase just this past week. I had started writing this very blog post about being still and being with God a few days ago, but had stopped writing to attend one of my 12-step program meetings. During the meeting someone said, "You know, when I get all caught up in my head and try to figure things out, I often say 'Be still and know that I am God' and I calm down immediately." I found that an interesting and inspiring coincidence.

The very next day, after another one of my 12-step program meetings, for some reason I was compelled to do my noontime prayer and meditation outside. You need to know that I hate being cold, and even though it was sunny, it was a chilly day in Charlotte, with a brisk little wind thrown in to add to the cold. I thought about where I could go to pray, and remembered that the church I recently joined has a prayer garden. I had walked through the garden several months ago, but not to the particular area I found myself drawn to on this visit. I kept thinking, "It's just too chilly for me to sit out here and pray. I don't want to do this.  Am I going nuts, or something?"

Just then I saw a large gray wall with a cross nearby. As I approached the wall, I read the inscription and gasped. It read: "Be still and know that I am God." I sat down on a bench that faced the wall and that thankfully was in the sun. This was clearly where I needed to be, so I pulled up the hood on my parka, rubbed my hands together, took out my kindle and started reading my prayers. It turned out to be one of the most peaceful afternoons I've had in a long time.

Prayer Wall in the Garden of

St. John's Episcopal Church, Charlotte, NC

The point of my story is simple. When the sound of my own voice fills my head with a myriad of whys and wherefores, I can't make room for God's presence in my life unless I get quiet. Being still gives me a chance to "get empty" so that God can, as the St. Francis Prayer so aptly puts it, "make me an instrument of His [your] peace."

May you have a deeply meaningful Advent season, filled with love, enlightenment and anticipation for the coming of our Lord.

Forgetting to Remember

Lately, I've been making a concerted effort to increase the number of times I pray during the day. To do this, I've found several books that I'd like to share with you:

The Divine Hours, Pocket Edition, by Phyllis Tickle.  It is a rather traditional prayer guide with different Offices of Prayer.  This, if I understand it clearly, is in the monastic tradition of praying several times a day. All of the offices are done on the hour or half hour.

The first office is "The Office of Midnight" between 10:30 p.m. and 1:30 a.m. The next one is the "Office of the Night Watch" between 1:30 and 4:30 a.m. This is followed by the "Office of Dawn" between 4:30 a.m. and 7:30 a.m. The next is the "Morning Office" between 6 a.m. and 9 a.m. Then there is the "Midday Office" between 11 a.m. and 2 p.m. After that is the "Vespers Office" between 5 p.m. and 8 p.m., followed by the "Office of Compline" "To Be Observed Before Retiring." There are different prayers for each day of the week.

Yes, this is a great deal of praying, and I'd like to tell you that I achieve perfect adherence to this book's suggested prayers.  I don't.  But I do have a place to go at a particular time of day when I remember to pray.  It's funny...I NEVER forget to eat or take a shower or brush my teeth, or to feed the dogs or take out the trash or do my laundry and all the other actions of daily life.  And I never seem to forget to obsess about the day ahead of me and all the "important" things I have to get done. But prayer is something I tend to forget to remember. That's why books such as the ones noted are wonderful for stopping me in the chaos and reminding me to connect with God.

Another wonderful book, along the same lines, is called The Book of Hours. It is a compilation of writings by the monastic mystic priest Thomas Merton fashioned into a book of prayers for particular times of the day. There are readings for each day of the week, but prayer is done only four times a day, at Dawn, Day, Dusk and Dark. Merton's prose and poetry are exquisite, although definitely mysterious at times, and always thought-provoking. One special aspect of his contemplative works is his attention to the practice of Silence. It is an important part of his message in how we empty ourselves to receive God's grace, and how we keep ourselves open as a channel of God's power working in us and through us, often in ways that we cannot even comprehend. I find Merton's writings the most soothing to my spirit and the silence, a new friend in a busy, oftentimes noisy world.

Lastly, I recommend another book by Phyllis Tickle called Christmastide: Prayers for Advent Through Epiphany from the Divine Hours. It, too, is divided into the Daily Offices, but it is divided into the weeks of Advent; for example, there are prayers for each of the four weeks leading up to Advent and each week is divided by the days of the week. There are a wealth of excerpts from the Bible and prayers that help me focus on the coming of the "incarnation." I have a real sense of reverence when I follow these readings.

Again, the trick is to remember not to forget to pray. I have all three books because I know that while I probably am not going to read out of all three every single day, chances are good that at some point in the day I am going to pick up one of these books and read.  It helps that they are on my Kindle.  Actually, I have the Kindle app on my phone so the prayers are available to me 24/7.

Now if you'll excuse me, writing this post has reminded me that I ought to say some prayers and do some meditating before I go to sleep tonight. The trick will be getting from the computer to the bedroom without forgetting my great resolve!

Peace and all good things to you this holiday season as we await the coming of God, disguised as a tiny babe in a manger.