friday five: holy help

At RevGals Sophia writes: It's the last week of the semester here so I offer another very simple Friday Five in honor of the past, present, and eschatological dimensions of this powerful season of the church year....

Please share five ways that God has come to you (your family or friends, your church or workplace, our world) in the past year, that God is coming to you right now, and/or that you are longing and looking for God to come.

This last year has been one that has seriously challenged my coping skills. I’m faced with behaviors of and choices by others than run counter to my norms and experiences, as well as what I have learned, integrated and affirmed about living a healthy life (in all the senses of that word). Even though I have resources for dealing with these challenges I have felt isolated and alone more than is comfortable or consoling. God’s presence has not been overwhelming, nor has it been detectable through the dusk of my days. Like the sun on a cloudy day, however, I do know that God is there. The connection has simply been weak (and we won’t go “there,” just now, to discuss how to interpret that!).

Even so, there have been glimpses of divine presence that have helped me to limp along. Those have been:

1) My goddaughter. She is a source of amazing spiritual wisdom and insight, and has offered guidance and accountability that has helped push me through stagnancy and break into the light.

2) Dreams. One very profound dream contained images of Christ’s life and death and involved a player named Rami whose name, I learned, means “loving.”

3) The icon-writing workshop I took last spring. That was a week of grace and growth spiritually, sacramentally, and creatively.

4) Breath Prayer, offering me a way to include Christ differently in my quest for peace and wholeness.

5) A holy trinity of women are helping me to heal some old wounds that interfere with the health of my marriage. These professionals—a pastoral counselor, nurse practitioner and physical therapist—have opened the door to hope on a path I thought I was traveling alone. Their singular talents are gift enough, but the combined effect of what they offer incarnates salvation. This might just be the greatest gift God has bestowed this year.

flashing forward, not back

A few weeks ago as I was celebrating Eucharist on Sunday morning I experienced an odd, unexpected commentary emerging in my head. As I read the words of thanksgiving--words I have read hundreds of times, words rooted in nearly 2000 years of ancient tradition, words reflecting the deeply held beliefs of millions, words that echo in hearts around the globe--they seemed out of sync.

It was as though the crafting of those words were half a beat behind the pulse of the day. Rather than speaking to the anxiety of the times and the dissonance of competing rhetoric, the words of the liturgy streamed with a thinness of irrelevance. The daily concerns of the people in the pew had outpaced the eloquent phrasing, and the burdens of a community hungry for solace and delivery on biblical promises flattened the hope carried by generations of the faithful.

It was an experience that, rather than causing distress within me, opened a door of opportunity to consider a new way to understand the holy promise that in Christ God makes all things new. In that moment of awareness, acknowledgement and clarity light splashed on a path previously unseen. It was barely perceptible, shadowed as it was by traditions groaning under the weight of repetition. The God of surprises was lost in the fog that passes for familiarity, and the mystery of the Word made flesh was hidden from view by the petty concerns of the powerless seeking a foothold in a world where power is all. And then, the glimpse was extinguished by the need to continue the pattern of words and extend the invitation to the table.

Until yesterday. As I listened to NPR's On Point and the wheels began to turn in response to the inspiration flowing up from within, the prescient liturgical moment returned for consideration. This time it came with a framework and a language, although the "how to" manual was conspicuously absent. No matter. Once is an occurrence, but twice, anchored in the composition of a blog post, is on its way to becoming a pattern.

What lies before me is vast and overwhelming, but likewise it is breathtaking and life-giving. Now to hunker down and dwell with the Spirit and let prayers rise like incense. Holy Moly.