Of course there will be. There's always a war. You go off and you see a beautiful flower. You say, "I want that flower." But if you pick it, it will surely die. If you don't pick it, it will die anyway. But if it dies where it is planted, it will go to seed...and from the seeds we can grow many, many flowers.
Often, we don't want to wait for the seeds. Hence, the wars. Long ago, when I began my contemplative life, God 'messaged' to me the word, "Enough." Two hours of prayer and that was the result: Enough. But I knew what the one word meant. It meant I wasn't going to starve. I didn't need to worry. It meant that there was enough for all of us. In fact, there was more than enough. I've written about this before. God seemed to tell me so much back then. And I ran away to seminary, trying to make sense of it all. I wanted to know I was not crazy. Or I wanted to know I was crazy. I just wanted to know.
I was yelling at God in Perkins chapel. I was saying something like, "Okay I'm here! Now what? I've come to learn and I feel so out of place. What the hell do you want from me?" (I know I said a bit more, and I think I may have been swearing a bit...) A little man...oh hell, my New Testament professor, was sitting behind the pulpit, invisible to me until he stood up and coughed.
I stood mortified. In his usual polite, respectful manner, he said, "If you've come for the service, we are meeting in the back room."
I kind of thought my whole career in seminary had ended in those few moments. My humiliation was deep and I deserved it. But there was more...I was interiorly exhuberant that I was working on a graduate degree in theology. At long last, I was finally doing something that I wanted to do instead of all the things I did because I thought someone else wanted me to do.
That was worth the humiliation of a prayer heard by a stranger. It was worth this professor minister knowing that perhaps I was a colorful character. I went to the back room...wondering if would ever speak to me again...and if he would ever be curious about the madness that brought me to Perkins.
And you know, he did. He cared deeply. He cared honestly. And he found me a spiritual director. A Catholic of all things. A curious beautiful Catholic woman, who, after two meetings, told me I was a Catholic and to return to the Eucharist. And I decided to never visit with her again.
The messages come from strange places...strange in my mind at least. And always with much drama. Most of the messages, I resist...I know immediately what they mean and my response seems to always be, "Oh, hell, no!" But like a woman deeply in love, after a bit of a struggle, I always give in. But never without a struggle. I'm not like Bernadette in the movies. I do not have a gentle manner. I am a fighter, kicking and screaming still for my own way...why am I so resistant? Why must I do everything the hard way?
So God brings these messengers, encounters with the Divine...and I laugh because I see that He is wooing me over and over again...why does He bother, when there are so many others who would play the Bernadette role...and look pretty and smile and be glad that...that they actually like that Ephesians 5 passage in the Bible. I would rather be dead than submissive to a man...one who was probably not even as strong as me...just because he is a man does not give him the right to tell me what to do...and I get all fired up and bothered. Ain't nobody going break my heart again. Ain't nobody gonna slow me down...
And then, in the midst of the Mass...all my logic evaporates...and I realize all I want to be is submissive...to God. Completely and totally insane. And perfect. And nothing like all the things I have experienced in this world. Surrendering to an invisible being that seems to enter every cell of my body and calm me down. I rock in his arms and there is no greater peace. I have become Jello...and I protest, even as I rest inside this amazingly perfect love...I'll never give in...
Stumbling to Bethlehem...
Oh God, you have ravaged me...and you are all that I want...Oh God, would that you rescue me from this love, this power you hold over me...never.
No one is going to understand...I don't understand...I write because I am in love...and I want you to be in love, too. Let this world's noise become a whisper in your ear. Get up and hold out your hand, and He'll take it and press it into His heart. He will fill you with all you need to be happy, no matter what is happening. Feel His heart beat, allow your heart to beat with His. You will have all your need to do the work, you will find peace, you will see beauty and you will love without bounds.
Where did this come from? I don't know. Words really don't help much, but they are all I have.
Love, Cindy
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