presence

Ruach

I know. It’s true. I talk a lot about breath. I first became fascinated with breath as a way to understand God. The Hebrew word for breath, ruach, is also the word for spirit and the very first time it appears in Scripture is in the very first chapter of Genesis. It’s one of my favorite verses because it so accurately describes what the creative process feels like inside me:

And the earth was without form and empty, and darkness was over the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters.—Genesis 1:2

Spirit of God there is Ruach Elohim, the breath of God exhaled over the deep. So often the pieces of an idea are churning within me, but I don’t know exactly where things are going. For me, inspiration feels like a breath into the deep, a moment of stillness in the churning and then—LIGHT! It is a prayer.

And so I wanted to explore the ways that understanding breath could help me understand God. Then my father was diagnosed with lung cancer and breathing became something he had to think about all the time. Then my own medical professionals helped me to see the connections between breathing and panic, post traumatic stress, anxiety and healing. Somehow all these things have overlapped: anatomy, physiology, compassion, empathy, poetry, art and prayer.

And because I talk about it so much, I wanted to give you a glimpse into someone else’s process with this. I’ve been working with a lovely woman, an authentic soul, who has given me permission to share some of her words and art here:

April Near, 2019, mixed media and acrylic paint on 24”x40” wood board

April Near, 2019, mixed media and acrylic paint on 24”x40” wood board

Recently I was challenged to “draw my breath” ... I didn’t know how to do this but over the course of 3 weeks I wrestled, pondered and asked questions about my breath.

Then... after days of wrestling, thinking, pondering, praying I saw a picture of my breath; it was a picture of wind unfurling through the air so I dared to paint what I was seeing. When I allow stress and worry and control to dominate my heart and mind, my breath is shallow, constricting and dark which doesn’t allow the full unfurling into the air. But when I pause and remember that every breath I breathe is a gift and each encounter and circumstance in my life is a gift, I can give thanks and I realize that all that God’s given me can be gifted to the world around me and I can breathe deeper which gives me strength and freedom which eventually leads to a deeper experience of “life” which I in turn can give to others - like the pearls in the painting being released, sharing their beauty with the world. So it is with all of us. God gave us breath and our very breath and existence impacts the world around us. We alone get to choose the level of impact. So when we breathe deep and accept all that comes our way as a gift, we in turn are able to be a gift to those around us. (To read April’s entire post on her website you can click here.)

To draw means to pull. What we refer to as “drawing” in art came from the act of pulling a pen. When we draw our breath we are pulling in, inhaling, and considering the gift of Life. I love that ruach emphasizes the exhalation of God and drawing breath emphasizes the inhalation of man. God breathes out of Himself and into us.

I need to ponder that a bit…

You Catch My Tears

Towards the end of the summer this year it I felt like so many were carrying so much and the verse from Psalm 56 kept rolling around inside me:

You have collected all my tears in your bottle—Psalm 56:8

I thought maybe…maybe if we could see a tangible representation of that verse people might remember that with God nothing is wasted. It might encourage the hearts of my dear people in this time. I called a young glass blower I know and asked him if he could make me one tear catcher. “Maybe,” he said. “What’s a tear catcher?”

And so began our research into the little glass bottles used by a variety of peoples and cultures throughout the centuries. A few weeks later William, young glassblower extraordinaire, showed up at my house with a box of tiny bottles. “I didn’t know how to choose, so I brought what I’ve been working on. You can pick which one you like.” Honestly, I couldn’t choose either. Each one had it’s own personality. I took all twelve.

I have heard your prayer; I have seen your tears—2 Kings 20:5

There were more stories than I can tell here, but I’d like to share one:

Hi, Michelle,

At our event last Thursday, a young girl of about 8 or so was dropped off by her dad, and they had some discussion about getting her a snack for during break time.  She headed off to class, and her dad dutifully purchased a couple of snacks, but then took them to his car to save for her until classes were over.  At break time, she came to the snack table expecting to find something waiting, and was notably disappointed when she learned what had happened.  She went and stood in a corner, and out of the corner of my eye, I could see her slowly crumbling into teary sadness.  I went and spoke with her, and we finally agreed that it might help to get a drink of water since she couldn't have her snack until later.

On the way to the water fountain, she looked up through her tears and saw the tiny glass bottles on their shelves in the hall.  "What are those?" she asked.  I explained to her what the sign described, and the scripture verse that provided the inspiration.  She was so captivated by this idea!  She got a drink, and came back and looked again as her tears began to dry...

"I wonder why God wants to collect our tears?

Does he save them up and drink them when he gets thirsty?

Or maybe he uses them to fill up the clouds to give us rain!"

And her small sorrow was turned to wonder at the loving care of our creative God.  She ran off refreshed and joyful, and my heart was so thankful that our church embraces art. 

The tear catchers attracted a lot of attention and within a week they had all sold. People who bought them all had intensely personal reasons and I know some bottles traveled across the country to those who were grieving. This is one of the ways God uses artisans to draw us back into His beautiful heart.

The psalmist in Psalm 56:8 uses the image of God catching our tears in a bottle to proclaim God's holy concern for every single moment of our lives. Nothing is wasted. No one is unseen.

Many thanks to William McBride who said yes without knowing what was being asked of him.

The Breath Giver

God breathed Life into me, and yet I know His Presence by the way He steals my breath: 

  • at the beach
  • during a sunset
  • beside a waterfall
  • during a meteor shower
  • at the birth of a lamb
  • when my husband puts his arm around me
  • when my kids laugh

Evidence of the Breath Giver is breath-taking.

You know those moments, you stop for them. You allow yourself to experience the wonder. You receive the gift. These are moments we can't control or command, we can't take them. They are moments that are given and we receive them. This is the foundation of faith--wonder. This is the heart of the psalms, and the heart of so much poetry. We notice the ordinary and we wonder at it.

And that impulse to stop, to breathe it in, to write it down? Another name for that is worship.

I looked up the definition for wonder and it is this:

to be surprised by beauty

And that is exactly what wonder feels like isn't it?

We have been keeping a list of what we notice to be sacred. We started it on the first day of this month, and it is good, right? To unclench ourselves and open our hearts and eyes? To receive the gifts already given? The practice alone is good.

But perhaps we might use our list to write some poetry. Ummmmm, won't that be good too?

Noticing the Sacred

I went for a walk in September last year. I walked and prayed for over 200 miles.

And I wondered, What if Jesus Christ really is The Way?

Not just the goal. No. What if He is the road we walk? What if He carries us continuously? Wouldn't that mean that everywhere I step is Holy Ground? What would my life look like if I lived that way?

Today is the first day of National Poetry Month. I challenge you, and I challenge myself, to notice the sacred in today. The essence of poetry is the same as the essence of prayer--paying attention with your entirety. What if you are standing, right now, on Holy Ground? What if you treated the person in front of you as Holy? What if this moment, this object, this...This was sacred?

My Sacred List for the month of April begins with these:

1. Warmth and the smell of applewood just beginning to push back the cold in the morning, thanks to the hands of my beloved who rose before me and braved the cold floor to make a fire.

2. A text--a smiley emoticon from my 19 year old son away at college.

3. My yoga mat. It used to belong to my father, now I use it to connect my spirit to my body and to pray for the people with whom God populates my heart while I'm stretching.

What's on your list? I would love a glimpse into your sacred life if you are willing to share in the comments.

Thank you. And. Happy National Poetry Month!

Presence and Solitude

"The basic revelation of the Gospel is the overwhelming, penetrating presence of God. It is a call to encounter God, and God allows himself to be encountered only in solitude.
It would seem that this solitude is something that those who live among the people of the world have to forego. But this would be to believe that we precede God in solitude, while on the contrary, it is He who waits there for us, to find God is to find solitude, because true solitude is spirit, and all of our human solitudes are merely relative approaches toward the perfect solitude that is faith.
True solitude is not the absence of people, but the presence of God.
To place our lives before the face of God, to surrender our lives to the movements of God, is to roam free in a space in which we have been given solitude.
If the eruption of God's presence in us occurs in silence and solitude, it allows us to remain thrown among, mixed up with, radically joined to all of the people who are made of the same clay as we are."
-Servant of God Madeleine Delbrêl