It's been a difficult August. Been wandering through the swamps of sadness, feeling used and abused by the ones who I thought were supposed to help me along the path. It is hard to wake up to the truth that your first impressions of people, places and things and most often the correct ones. I wonder though, sometimes, if that is just self-fulfilling prophesies: what I have always claimed: we see only what we want to see.
I wonder today, if I should just put on the blinders again...and settle for something less.
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Started with these words over a week ago. Nothing has changed. Listening to the documentary on how and why the television show "Joan of Arcadia" came into being. The creator Barbara Hall, spoke about trying to create the series:
"A million things went wrong, but we made it anyway."
"I knew what I wanted but I didn't know how to get there."
"I needed a natural warrior (her father) and a supernatural warrior (Joan)"
"11/11/2001 changed everything, people wanted to know"
including
including
"Why does it [life] have to hurt so much?"
"There was nothing simplistic about it [the show]."
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So I ask God again: Why does it have to hurt so much?
There have been some very challenging moments this summer. Things I expected and things I did not. I see I have done good work for others. I am sure I've done some good internal work, but I can't see it. Must have, because I know I am ready to do the next thing. But it still hurts.
Joan: "Why does it hurt so much?"
God: "Because you feel it, Joan."
In the show, God explains to Joan that all this mess of feelings is what makes us human, what allows us to love. The pain now is part of the pleasure later. The pleasure now is part of the pain later. There is no escape.
And I realize this reflection contains nothing new.
Life is pain. Anyone who tells you different is selling something--Princess Bride
"What if this is as good as it gets?"--from the movie with the same name.
"The Uncertainty Principle"
And I realize this reflection contains nothing new.
Life is pain. Anyone who tells you different is selling something--Princess Bride
"What if this is as good as it gets?"--from the movie with the same name.
"The Uncertainty Principle"
This was my favorite episode, because God asks Joan to do something totally outrageous...and not until the "deed is done" does God explain how and why what she did worked.
I am right there today. I am pissed at God, not for what I've done...or perhaps didn't do...but because it hurts and I don't understand why. No, that's not completely true. I know why it hurts. I even told God it was okay. "Use me anyway you want." I said. But I didn't say I would like it. And I didn't say that I wouldn't pitch a fit.
That's one reason why I love Teresa of Avila so much. She is so honest in her writings about her conversations with God. Much more human, not all that Hollywood style of saintliness. I think real saints have a large range of emotions...and God taps in and uses every single one of them.
So now, added to my usual visiting is an unusual visiting. A young mother with cancer. This is a real growing edge for me...and tapping into a multitude of emotions that I didn't expect to access in my chaplaincy. Ha! The reality that every aspect of our lives works into our ministry is kind of the first rule of being an apostle, a minister, a servant. A servant means being the property of the one you choose to serve. It means you don't really get answers to all those questions you might have when asked to complete a task. It means not always understanding, but doing anyway. It means trust and it means love. How creepy to me to think that I have a "master" that I obey. Human beings are a bit more challenging to embrace. I have let a few into my inner being...and some of them have let me down. While that depresses me, I must remember that I am answering God's call, not some man's call. I have wounds that I wonder if they will ever be healed. I even spend time thinking that perhaps they are not meant to be healed, that I might lose some of my mojo if I were suddenly healed.
It is always a challenge to stay the course. Especially when you are uncertain if you are staying true to the initial call, the initial commitment, the initial love. And then there's that whole human body thing that can rear up it's head and say, "No! You must pay attention to me!"
Stay the course. A thousand years ago, God called my name and I said yes. A thousand years ago, He knew I would be here...and He knew I would be given choices...and that I'd do some things right and some wrong...and that my being here, in this moment of time mattered. A thousand years ago, someone else said yes...and now I am here. And a thousand years before that, someone said yes, so that a thousand years later, another yes; a thousand years and another yes...and that one was mine. I have always held in my heart the idea of eternity going in both directions, before me and behind me. I have always known that now is so very small, but that now matters.
I try to keep humble, in the sense that I am needed and not needed, in the big scheme of things. But humble takes on an immense role when it is fully realized. It doesn't mean being quiet, or obedient to the things of this world...for me, it is a submission only but totally to God. Yet, in this small dot on the timeline of eternity, I still get upset and anxious about so many little things. That reminds me how much I am not humble.
I watch a priest friend play with the trappings of his profession and I judge. He reminds me too much of my mother, who had the most beautiful house she could have on her budget...and I lived in it and I was miserable. It was pretty. But there was no family, no love...just pretty. I wonder why a man with so many spiritual gifts would choose things over people. I am judging. I don't know what he is thinking. It is none of my business. So I have sinned. Sinned in judging and sinned in wasting my time thinking about it. I am not humble. And I do know a clean house is needed to think, to pray. To be inspired. To be proud....and there you go...there is no real escape from our humanity.
Nor should there be. It's all part of our gift. Something was said, or I heard...about truth this week. Our brains are good for so much, yet we use them to justify our position, our choices, our actions...not always to our own good nor for the good of others. I was trying to read Aristotle again this week...and I kept thinking outside the words I was reading: Why is he choosing these words, these examples, when he could write more clearly? And then I thought about the translator, gifted with a particular education, and how he took Aristotle's words and did the best he could to translate them into a language I could read...and still it made no sense to me.
I read different theologians. Some speak to my heart and others drive me batty. How could someone with a good brain come up with "that" conclusion? I start thinking about the female perspective on creation, Christology, mythology, systematics...and I start to realize it's all babbling. Some people hear and some do not. Absolutely nothing in linear. Absolutely nothing is simple. There may be a perfect truth out there, but human beings, in this form, will never know what it is. Such a thought brings on so much despair.
We can never figure it out. So why go on living? Why try, when people are so mean to each other? Why they hate? Why they kill? Why they destroy each other's souls, creativity and life source? Why go on living, when only suffering and old age lie ahead for the survivors? Why can't I have it (my life) my own way?
Then my mind goes back to the image I have inmy head from the last retreat. What was supposed to be a beautiful experience that evening, a selfish man chose to write his wife a letter: "I do not love you. Your son does not love you. Why won't you listen? We are divorced now. Let go." I sat in that circle, across the room from her, watching her shoulders rise and fall with her sobs. I watched the arm that was placed around her, as she silently wept. I knew from where I was, it was not my place to go to her again...now...but merely to witness...and then suddenly, in my mind's eye, I saw Jesus again on the cross. Hands bound my nails so that his body could not move...as He watched the crowd before him.
I remember my vision from so long ago...that odd moment when I saw Him die on the cross...and I watched Him watch the crowd of people...and, in my head, I kept trying to sort it out for years later...so confusing, I wondered if I should try to forget... Why was this happening? Why am I seeing this? He was watching...all of us...his lovers and his betrayers...and all the ones who were so confused...and He knew...He was dying for all of us: the good, the bad, the ugly.
I looked at that woman, with whom I had a commonality: ( I too was told, "I don't love you anymore." by the one person I believed would never leave me...I knew the betrayal...and the hate...) And I knew Jesus knew it all...in those moments on the cross.
The pain of the physical death was harsh, but temporary. The suffering He knew in his body was completely overshadowed by the suffering of the knowing of how horribly we treat each other. How we judge and condemn and isolate...and kill love at every turn. He knew the abuse and the wars and the horrors, the big things and the little things...breaking a toy rather than sharing it with your brother...beating up a man because...he's different...raping your wife...because you can...telling a lie about your best friend...not forgiving someone for not saying hello...and for writing your wife a letter so that she can read it again and again "I don't love you."
As a spiritual director, I was aware of many of the sufferings that at in that circle...many wounds that would take longer than one retreat to heal. And I was there, also, in that moment, with Jesus on the cross. He was so close to me, I could smell the wood and blood before me. And I wondered, 'How did you endure it? This knowing...when I know only a few small things...how did you endure it, knowing all things? Only God could stay on that cross and take it to Himself. Only a God who loves would be willing to do it. Only a God could stay the course and see it to it's holy conclusion. To die, so that we might stop hurting each other.
This is the God I love. This is the God I serve. This one. Who did it all...for me...and for all of us.
I'm drawing close to another blue moon. I thought, if this is the time to let go...then I should do it now. But the closer I get to trying to go back to an ordinary life, the more strongly I realize the love that has been given to me. Part of me just wants to run away. Part of me is so ashamed of my own selfishness, and of my own sins.
But if He stayed the course...then so will I.
Because I love Him.
Because He loved me first.
Love, Cindy
Stay the course. A thousand years ago, God called my name and I said yes. A thousand years ago, He knew I would be here...and He knew I would be given choices...and that I'd do some things right and some wrong...and that my being here, in this moment of time mattered. A thousand years ago, someone else said yes...and now I am here. And a thousand years before that, someone said yes, so that a thousand years later, another yes; a thousand years and another yes...and that one was mine. I have always held in my heart the idea of eternity going in both directions, before me and behind me. I have always known that now is so very small, but that now matters.
I try to keep humble, in the sense that I am needed and not needed, in the big scheme of things. But humble takes on an immense role when it is fully realized. It doesn't mean being quiet, or obedient to the things of this world...for me, it is a submission only but totally to God. Yet, in this small dot on the timeline of eternity, I still get upset and anxious about so many little things. That reminds me how much I am not humble.
I watch a priest friend play with the trappings of his profession and I judge. He reminds me too much of my mother, who had the most beautiful house she could have on her budget...and I lived in it and I was miserable. It was pretty. But there was no family, no love...just pretty. I wonder why a man with so many spiritual gifts would choose things over people. I am judging. I don't know what he is thinking. It is none of my business. So I have sinned. Sinned in judging and sinned in wasting my time thinking about it. I am not humble. And I do know a clean house is needed to think, to pray. To be inspired. To be proud....and there you go...there is no real escape from our humanity.
Nor should there be. It's all part of our gift. Something was said, or I heard...about truth this week. Our brains are good for so much, yet we use them to justify our position, our choices, our actions...not always to our own good nor for the good of others. I was trying to read Aristotle again this week...and I kept thinking outside the words I was reading: Why is he choosing these words, these examples, when he could write more clearly? And then I thought about the translator, gifted with a particular education, and how he took Aristotle's words and did the best he could to translate them into a language I could read...and still it made no sense to me.
I read different theologians. Some speak to my heart and others drive me batty. How could someone with a good brain come up with "that" conclusion? I start thinking about the female perspective on creation, Christology, mythology, systematics...and I start to realize it's all babbling. Some people hear and some do not. Absolutely nothing in linear. Absolutely nothing is simple. There may be a perfect truth out there, but human beings, in this form, will never know what it is. Such a thought brings on so much despair.
We can never figure it out. So why go on living? Why try, when people are so mean to each other? Why they hate? Why they kill? Why they destroy each other's souls, creativity and life source? Why go on living, when only suffering and old age lie ahead for the survivors? Why can't I have it (my life) my own way?
Then my mind goes back to the image I have inmy head from the last retreat. What was supposed to be a beautiful experience that evening, a selfish man chose to write his wife a letter: "I do not love you. Your son does not love you. Why won't you listen? We are divorced now. Let go." I sat in that circle, across the room from her, watching her shoulders rise and fall with her sobs. I watched the arm that was placed around her, as she silently wept. I knew from where I was, it was not my place to go to her again...now...but merely to witness...and then suddenly, in my mind's eye, I saw Jesus again on the cross. Hands bound my nails so that his body could not move...as He watched the crowd before him.
I remember my vision from so long ago...that odd moment when I saw Him die on the cross...and I watched Him watch the crowd of people...and, in my head, I kept trying to sort it out for years later...so confusing, I wondered if I should try to forget... Why was this happening? Why am I seeing this? He was watching...all of us...his lovers and his betrayers...and all the ones who were so confused...and He knew...He was dying for all of us: the good, the bad, the ugly.
I looked at that woman, with whom I had a commonality: ( I too was told, "I don't love you anymore." by the one person I believed would never leave me...I knew the betrayal...and the hate...) And I knew Jesus knew it all...in those moments on the cross.
The pain of the physical death was harsh, but temporary. The suffering He knew in his body was completely overshadowed by the suffering of the knowing of how horribly we treat each other. How we judge and condemn and isolate...and kill love at every turn. He knew the abuse and the wars and the horrors, the big things and the little things...breaking a toy rather than sharing it with your brother...beating up a man because...he's different...raping your wife...because you can...telling a lie about your best friend...not forgiving someone for not saying hello...and for writing your wife a letter so that she can read it again and again "I don't love you."
As a spiritual director, I was aware of many of the sufferings that at in that circle...many wounds that would take longer than one retreat to heal. And I was there, also, in that moment, with Jesus on the cross. He was so close to me, I could smell the wood and blood before me. And I wondered, 'How did you endure it? This knowing...when I know only a few small things...how did you endure it, knowing all things? Only God could stay on that cross and take it to Himself. Only a God who loves would be willing to do it. Only a God could stay the course and see it to it's holy conclusion. To die, so that we might stop hurting each other.
This is the God I love. This is the God I serve. This one. Who did it all...for me...and for all of us.
I'm drawing close to another blue moon. I thought, if this is the time to let go...then I should do it now. But the closer I get to trying to go back to an ordinary life, the more strongly I realize the love that has been given to me. Part of me just wants to run away. Part of me is so ashamed of my own selfishness, and of my own sins.
But if He stayed the course...then so will I.
Because I love Him.
Because He loved me first.
Love, Cindy
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