Friday, March 28, 2008

You go whistling in the dark, -making light of it



Move: 27 days and counting.
Packing boxes and rummaging through stuff has a way of reminding me of all kinds of other moves God has taken me through in the past- physical, emotional and spiritual. I think change is always a bit scary- even when it's a change you've hoped for.

One of the most profound spiritual exercises I've ever learned, came to me by way of Marian's spiritual mentor--Sister Regina. Marian and I went on a retreat with Sister Regina a few years back. Held in a beautiful and quiet place in the country, the first evening was spent eating together with the group of about 6 other guests and 2 nuns, having dinner and talking about the plan for the weekend. The remainder of the retreat was spent in solitude and silence (even at mealtimes). The only break in silence was for brief sessions alone with Sister Regina.

During this time, her meek and simple questions included something to the tune of, 'So, where is God?,' and 'Is He saying something?' If there was nothing to report, that was fine. You were encouraged to just keep on waiting for Him while quieting your heart and mind.... walking in nature, enjoying the peace and relaxation of solitude.

Based on what you said, she might give you a scripture to meditate on, or an exercise to try. At this particular time, my own little-known and life-long struggle with fear was causing paralysis and indecisiveness. As such, meditating on Isaiah 43 brought me immense peace; a peace based not on any other guarantee than God's promise to walk with me through whatever life would bring. Sister Regina also suggested a simple, contemplative exercise that has been practiced by Christians throughout the ages: loving reflection (den kaerlige tilbageblik). In short, each night, you revisit your day sequentially, reviewing in your mind all of the people, events and things that you encountered, asking God to help you sense which of these brought light and which brought darkness into your life. As you become more aware of what brings darkness, she encouraged to go where the light is and to flee darkness. Also, when you're in the darkness, she advised to quickly call out to God, 'Lord, come to me!' and 'Lord, take me away from here!' It could be something as simple as fearful or negative thoughts, but in this way, God brings us from darkness to light. Which often reminds me of the lyrics from an old Susan Ashton song, 'You Move Me'.

You can also listen to the song here.

This is how it seems to me
Life is only therapy
Real expensive
And no guarantee
So I lie here on the couch
With my heart hanging out
Frozen solid with fear
Like a rock in the ground

Oh but you move me
You give me courage I didn't
Know I had
You move me on
I can't go with you
And stay where I am
So you move me on

Here is how love was to me
I could look and not see
Going through the emotions
Not knowin' what they mean
And it scared me so much
That I just wouldn't budge
I might have stayed there forever
If not for your touch

Oh but you move me
Out of myself and into the fire
You move me
Now I'm burning with love
And with hope and desire
How you move me

You go whistling in the dark
Making light of it
Making light of it
And I follow with my heart
Laughing all the way

Oh 'cause you move me
You get me dancing and you
make me sing
You move me
Now I'm taking delight
In every little thing
How you move me

For some reason, despite our fear and dislike of darkness, we seem drawn to it. Praise God that He promises to go with us through it and lead us into light. And even more than that, how wonderful that no darkness ever veils God's view of things.

There's another kind of darkness that I'd like to address--a different kind that's not 'evil' --it's 'the veil of unknowing'. Which will, hopefully, result in my long-owed book review. Next posting.


2 comments:

DeniseMarie said...

Since you shared this exercise of Sister Regina's with me, I've thought of it many times and had my own "God, get me out of here!" moments.

DeniseMarie said...

New post, please. Preferably with pictures of my angel. I miss you guys.