Afraid of God

normal_FrightenedLady001 I was speaking with “Gwen” not that long ago, and she was telling me about an emotional subject. The words, “Oh my God” escaped her lips. She stopped. She looked around, and then with a look I would have to describe as panicked, she said, “I’m so sorry. I know God doesn’t like if I do that.”

I didn’t want to make anything of it, so I encouraged her to continue her story, but later I starting thinking about what happened. She was feeling afraid. It was fear she felt toward God when she apologized. 

 

Because God made us as relational beings, I wonder if we need to do better than being afraid of God. I know as a parent, I want to love my children and have them love me, not fear me. I want them them to respond to me and with me, not just respond out of fear of something happening to them. I enjoy my place as parent, rather than their peer. I do want honor and respect, and I try to offer that to them. But, if they operate in a way where they look over their shoulder every time they do something, I think I sense I have failed in some major way in relating to them, and parenting them. I will not have established a relationship of trust, and healthy love and caring.

I wonder if Gwen will feel close enough to God to feel unafraid one day. I wonder if she will feel he loves her dearly, and knows all about her, and still loves her just exactly the same. The fear comes from her own expectations, and probably what she has been told about God, but not God’s nature, and what God desires for her. He wants closeness, intimacy, and free reciprocal communication. He doesn’t want a cowering servant, always afraid to do or say the wrong thing that may displease him. Pagan gods were temperamental, but in contrast, Yahweh was and is not. I think the God image in her mind might look close to the dad she had, or some authority figure. But, the Lover of her soul, cares for her so deeply it would blow her mind.

Have you been afraid of God? Do you know someone who is? What has been the effect?

Art-the universal human language of connection

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=518XP8prwZo]

Art isn’t a segment that involves a certain branch of the population, it is a part of the human spirit itself. Through it, the connection, and language under, deeper than words expresses more than linguistics allows. Without forms of art we seem like mere brutes, animals, or machines, hardly able to get past our own shallowness or insufficiencies. And with it we struggle through the same, and grow into fuller humanness, which is the point.

Ukrainian sand artist, Kseniya Simonova depicts her people and their struggles following WWI and into the Nazi takeover in this awing artistic performance. She gets to the root of the human experience, and in my opinion, the place of greatest need where God always is.

Please, tell me what you think of this video.

prayer/scripture/meditation: Lectio Divina explained- Part II

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This is an edited excerpt from a paper I did on this topic. It involved my  research of the discipline (history, background, and details), and personal use of the discipline, as well. I will be making a reference piece available that can be kept in one’s Bible, and used for personal or group purposes. (Please keep in mind the following is ©Lisa Colón DeLay, 2008, and cannot be reproduced in any form without my written permission.) If you wish to share this with others, please link here, or pass along the URL. Thank you.

Please enjoy!

And God be close to you.


Lectio Divina

(Lectio-pronounced: LEX-ee-o)

Lectio Divina as a practice harkens back into early Christianity, to the desert fathers and mothers who practiced meditation on biblical texts.[1] In about 220 A.D., Origen, an early church father, who first taught in Alexandria, and then later in Caesarea, extolled the advantage of combining Scriptural reading with focus, regularity, and prayer–hallmarks of lectio divina.[2] An Eastern dessert monk, John Cassian in the early fifth century introduced the practice to Christians of the West. The Cistercian monks have traditionally combined reading, study, and meditation of scripture through the ages.[3] In the sixth century monasteries that followed the Rule of St. Benedict formally practiced the discipline as a normal rule of daily monastic life.[4] Benedict of Nursia, Italy (ca. 480-ca. 550) left Rome for the village life of Subaico, and built monastery life around community, encompassing manual labor, prayer, and scared reading at worship, and at meals.[5] Of course, attention to Scripture, for followers of Yahweh, is nothing new. For millennia, Jewish tradition has been renown for valuing the copy and preservation of Scriptural texts, meditation on God’s scared Words, and Scripture reading as a normal part of public and private life. Christian tradition follows in this stream as well, with reverence for the Word of the Lord.

In  the 12th century, Ladder of the Monks by Guigo II created a schematic pattern to lectio divina of four movements still commonly used: lectio, meditatio, oratio, and contemplatio.[6] Lectio divina has everything to do with listening. Whether we hear the Scripture when read repeatedly corporately, or we read it out loud several times, or we hear it in our minds, as we read repeat it–we are careful to listen. Lectio divina centers on reading and receiving from God. It also journeys into the contemplative tradition of Christianity as it involves much “prayer of the heart.”[7]

 Lectio

The first movement of lectio divina involves lectio–reading the text. The text is usually not very long, and is most often Scripture. However, some also dwell on passages of spiritual writing, by devout Christians, to draw them to deeper thought, prayer, or devotion.[1] In this movement, one reads the text several times carefully with “wide eyes”, but also, with the whole mind. With active reading and awareness, one reads the text cognizant of God’s power at work through the text.

Meditatio

After a deliberate reading of the text, one moves into meditatio. St. Benedict mentioned that one listens to the Word of God “with the ear of the heart.”[2] In meditation one ruminates, or chews on the text–digesting it, and working it over. One may find an association, poignant word, or image on which focus. In this way, he or she receives from Gods Word. Some present day applications of meditatio exemplify an intellectual preference. They involve consulting commentaries, digesting relating liturgy, or reading relating texts to study the sacred text more fully.[3]

 
Jean Leclercq explains medieval universities, unlike monasteries, differed in their use of lectio divina. Scholastic students approached Scripture as an object to be studied and investigated by subjecting questions to the text. This seems analogous to some of our contemporary Evangelical tendencies. In medieval times, a scholastic pupil questioned himself to the subject matter, and he “sought science and knowledge” in his quest. These students sought discovery remaining more “objective, theological, and cognitive.” Monastic disciples were content to stay more “subjective, devotional, and affective” in their habits.[4]

 Oratio

The meditatio movement flows into oratio–prayer that may be much like dialogue–both speaking and listening. Prayers of praise, worship, thanksgiving, supplication, confession, and so forth, may be a part of oratio.[5] Lectio divina ends in a contemplative phase, though it is sandwiched by meditative prayer and contemplative prayer. Some of this prayer is cerebral and responsive, but it gives way to “prayer of the heart.” Kenneth Boa describes meditative prayer as a more “intellectual exercise.”It engages us more actively as we become thoughtful, vocal, and imaged based compared to contemplative prayer.[6]

Contemplatio

In contrast with the meditative prayer of oratio, contemplative prayer is far more mysterious. One finds it in silence, and in the loss of activity and images. In this stage, one abides and receives from God with “interior stillness.”[7] The contemplatio movement of the lectio exercise exists beyond words. One may discover the deep knowing of the Almighty God who is within, as well as strength, comfort, and a rich and powerful feature of the discipline. Thomas Merton beautifully describes the conversation with God thus: “God takes care to provide [the soul] with everything it desires, and to such an extent that it often finds within itself a very savory, delicious nourishment, though it never sought nor did anything to obtain it, and in no way contributed to it itself, except by its consent.”[8]
This contemplative way is so reflective and quiet as to be rather counter-cultural, existing against our noisy and fast-paced times. In this movement, our thoughts dim, our intellect releases, and we rest in God’scomfort, presence, and power. Our hearts find him, and he fills our hearts. This contemplative movement is a passive way. Why contemplate God in such a way? Thomas Merton answers this question well in following quote:
“What is the purpose of meditation in the sense of “prayer of the heart”? In the ‘prayer of the heart’ we seek first of all the deepest ground of our identity in God. We do not reason about dogmas of faith, or “the mysteries.” We seek rather to gain a direct existential grasp, a personal experience of the deepest truths of life and faith, finding ourselves in God’s truth.”[9] As we center ourselves in God, we may more easily perceive Reality, as God is the source and the fullness of Reality itself.Practical uses in the contemporary church:

Tony Jones notes that lectio divina is gaining in popularity in contemporary churches worldwide.[10] Certainly within the Emergent church movement in North America, the practice has growing appeal, and a number of recent books have come out on the topic. Perhaps the postmodern love of mystery coupled with the renewed interest in ancient church practices has piqued the level of interest. Various contemporary churches are reintroducing the practice into facets of worship and prayer venues.

Lectio divina has various specific practical uses in the contemporary church, some of which have already been mentioned, such as devotional or inspirational Christian writing, group prayer and worship, and bible study. Sarah Butler notes the practice of lectio divina has allowed her to better hear the rhythm of the people entrusted to her ministerial care. The practice of listening and trusting God, in this way, has grown a deeper place in her heart for her people, and a greater compassion for them. She elegantly describes that lectio divina also increased the ability to experience “God’s embrace in the midst of suffering.”[11]

Gregory Polan explains that lectio divina is of particular contemporary benefit for spiritual nourishment in Eucharistic Liturgy at the “Table of the body of the Risen Christ.”He finds lectio divina exceedingly rich for the church to bring added meaning and reflection to this corporate event.[12]

This is only a small blurb on the topic Lectio Divina, and its uses and benefits. My experience of the regular practice of it reaped a spectrum of interactions with God from vivacious jubilation, poignant insights, and gentle comfort, to awkward silences, and even periods of dryness. I write about it now, not so one can inject another quick tactic into one’s life to see spiritual jackpot. In reality, the spiritual journey consists of varying terrain. I present this information now so those desiring to ready themselves more for God’s gracious work can yield and place themselves in a better spot for the seeds of grace he alone plants and nourishes.

If you have any questions about Lectio Divina, or would like to share your experiences (whether positive, or negative) I welcome your comments.


 


[1] Jones. The Sacred Way, 54. 

 

 

 

[2] Gregory J. Polan. Lectio Divina: Reading and Praying the Word of God. Liturgical Ministry, no. 12 (Fall 2003): 203.

[3] Schneiders. Biblical Spirituality,140.

[4] Boa, 175.

[5] Schneiders, 140.

[6] Boa, 182.

[7] Ibid., 182.

[8] Merton, Contemplative Prayer, 40.

[9] Ibid., 82.

[10] Jones, 54.

[11] Sarah Butler. Lectio Divina as a Tool for Discernment. Sewanee Theological Review, 43:3 (Pentcost 2000): 303.

[12] Polan, 206.

Coming Soon…

My August project will be to summarize some helpful spiritual disciplines, and design some easy-to-understand materials. Tell me what disciplines or spiritual formation topics you’d like to know about, for yourself, your small group, church, family, or other uses. Different forms of prayer? Lectio Divina? Meditation? Fasting? Sabbath? Examen? Spiritual Direction? It’s time to put all these graduate school studies to good use!

Lost Dog Tootsie

tootsieJumpy, foolish, and run amuck. That was Tootsie. I didn’t know her name, but when a skittish dog weaved up the center of my street towing a 20 foot chain, I called out to her, and tried to help.

She was friendly, but fearful. She panted and started for me, but when she realized I might end her dash toward total independence, she started to scoot away–her long chain clattered behind her. Instead of heightening my urgency, I scaled it back, and made my tone friendlier. “Come here, it’s okay!” I tapped my leg in what is a sort of international signal for dog to come. She perked up her ears, and darted around, still unsure of her next move. She was going to bolt. The long muddy chain was her foil. I edged after her, and she made a break for it. Then, I stepped on the chain, and used it to reel her in. Once arrested from flight, she was friendly and excited. With a hyper spirit only a very inbred dog exhibits, she jumped, and spun, and zipped about. My daughter was delighted.

Now to find the owner. The last thing I wanted was to keep a dog like this for too long. I sighed relief–her dog tag had a phone number. I phoned–the number was disconnected. She began barking, and jumping, popped two of our plastic balls, and knocked over her new water dish for the fourth time. I hoped there would be a big reward for finding her.

About an hour later, three children who had heard familiar barking came to get her. They said her name was Tootsie. Their gate was open, and they didn’t know how she got away.

I got to thinking about Tootsie, and her recklessness. Her ignorance of her freedom, and the danger she didn’t know she was in apart from her caretakers. The wild look in her eye, and the confusion of being on her own–excited, yet quite lost, and ultimately alone. Until I stepped in, her fate was dubious.

I wonder if we think of people with the same kind companion we do for animals. When someone has lost their way, feels alone, or is out of the watchful care they need, do we hurry to help them? Or do we size up everything first? Do we decide if it’s worth it, or if they are worthy of the work we’ll have to put in?

Maybe it’s easier to help an animal because we assume they are quite helpless, but people can do far better helping themselves. But, the truth is, no one can go it alone. Not Tootsie, not me, not you, not anyone. Reaching out is the only way things genuinely improve. And I don’t mean reaching out just any way, but with true graciousness. Real compassion, and the kind of love we hope is shown to us, or those we love.

How do you feel about it?

And have you ever rescued a person or animal?

Go ahead and talk about it in a comment. :)

Thanks for reading.