O Rod and Root of Jesse

This is the third night of candle lighting and those three candles are starting to drive the darkness back. We can see by them now. The first candle was lit on the 17th, the candle for Wisdom. The second, the Lord candle was lit on the 18th. The third candle is for the Rod and Root of Jesse. Traditionally these are both sung on the same day. We like to separate them so that we can ponder each one a little longer.

The Rod of Jesse and the Root of Jesse are two sides of the Messiah. He will be the Jewish Messiah, coming through the lineage of Jesse. He will be a branch on that family tree. Isaiah uses the Hebrew word netzer for branch in Chapter 11:

A shoot will come up from the stump of Jesse;
    from his roots a Branch will bear fruit.
The Spirit of the Lord will rest on him—
    the Spirit of wisdom and of understanding,
    the Spirit of counsel and of might,
    the Spirit of the knowledge and fear of the Lord—
 and he will delight in the fear of the Lord.

He will not judge by what he sees with his eyes,
    or decide by what he hears with his ears;
but with righteousness he will judge the needy,
    with justice he will give decisions for the poor of the earth.

As I understand it, the word netzer+the feminine ending designated by the letter Tav, is the word Nazaret (or Nazareth). This is a sign to the Jewish people. Your God will deliver you. He is sending you a Branch of Jesse's tree to save you.

O come, Thou Rod of Jesse's stem
From every foe deliver them
That trust thy mighty pow'r to save,
And give them victory o'er the grave.

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel!

The Root of Jesse's Tree is the Source, God Himself. Messiah will be Before All Ages, the Root. This is Messiah for the Gentiles. Those who do not understand the lineage come to Messiah because He is also the Root. God of all. He will be a banner for all peoples, calling them to Himself. And this Root will also reclaim His lost remnant in the same way, calling them to their Source.

In that day the Root of Jesse will stand as a banner for the peoples; the nations will rally to him, and his resting place will be glorious. In that day the Lord will reach out his hand a second time to reclaim the surviving remnant of his people from Assyria, from Lower Egypt, from Upper Egypt, from Cush, from Elam, from Babylonia, from Hamath and from the islands of the Mediterranean. ~Isaiah 11: 10-11

And so tonight and tomorrow, we call to Him who is the Beginning and the End. Come soon!

O come, Thou Root of Jesse's tree,
An ensign of Thy people be;
Before Thee rulers silent fall;
All peoples on Thy mercy call.

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel!

O Adonai

Yesterday was the First Day of the Last Week. It was the night we cried out for the Messiah to come, calling Him by His Name, Wisdom From On High. Tonight we call him by His Name, Adonai, Mighty Lord. We also thank him for giving us The Law. Why would we do that? Why celebrate The Law when the One Who Set Us Free is so close?

My family hangs apples on our Christmas Tree. Each year each person takes an apple, to symbolize his or her sin. Each one asks the Holy Spirit to bring to mind sins we need to confess. We discuss The Law. It is important to know. It was given to us so that we could see more clearly the difference between the holy and the secular. We need this yardstick to measure our distance from God so that The Bridge can be appreciated. We then each hang a Melba toast, one for each of us, to symbolize The Bread of Life. The apple is death, the bread is Life.

Tonight we will light the second candle and sing:

O come, O come, Thou Lord of might,
Who to Thy tribes on Sinai's height
In ancient times once gave the law
In cloud and majesty and awe.

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel!

This stanza reminds us of God's unfathomable power. He brought then and brings still, the slaves out of captivity. It also reminds us that God keeps His Promises:

 “For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and … he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God.” ~Isaiah 9:6

   
Behold the days are coming, says the Lord, when I will raise up to David a righteous Branch; As king he shall reign wisely, he shall do what is just and right in the land. In his days Judah will be saved and Israel will live in safety. This is the name by which he will be called: “The Lord Our Righteousness.” ~Jeremiah 23:5-6

"The Lord will be our Mighty One; for the Lord is our judge, the Lord is our lawgiver, the Lord is our king, it is he who will save us." ~Isaiah 33:22

The Last Seven Days

During the Dark Ages, well before 800 AD, a monk reading in Isaiah was inspired to write some poetry. He wrote seven stanzas of longing for the Messiah. Each stanza addresses the coming Messiah by one of the names recorded in Isaiah. Monks began to chant his poem. Eventually, each stanza became associated with one day of the last seven days before Christmas. To this day, they are sung each night from the 17th to the 24th around the world. They are often called the O Antiphons, because each stanza begins with O. In the 1800's the poem was set to music and we know it as the beloved "O Come, O Come Emmanuel," the most ancient Christmas carol that still survives.

Today we enter the final phase of Advent. The waiting is almost over, and we begin to rise. The King is close, oh, so very close. Our yearning for Him is more insistent. We beg him to come. And the O Antiphon for today is:

O come, Thou Wisdom from on high,
Who orders all things mightily;
To us the path of knowledge show,
And teach us in her ways to go.

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel!

Isaiah often calls the coming Messiah "Wisdom."

“For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and … he will be called Wonderful Counselor.” ~Isaiah 9:6

"The spirit of the Lord will rest on him—the Spirit of wisdom and of understanding, the Spirit of counsel and of power, the Spirit of knowledge and of the fear of the Lord—and he will delight in the fear of the Lord." ~Isaiah 11:2-3

“All this comes from the Lord Almighty, wonderful in counsel and magnificent in wisdom." ~Isaiah 28:29

Tonight we will light one candle against the darkness. That flame will stand for our hope in the Promise of God, that He will send Himself, that He will be the Lamp. That lone flickering candle that gives us just enough light to ask for Wisdom enough to follow Him. For His Presence to grow in us a thirst for more Presence. O come Wisdom from on high!

And He Was Filled With the Holy Spirit

Nine months of silence. That's a long time. That's enough time to stop struggling against it, and accept it. It's enough time to go beyond acceptance to appreciation. It's enough time to learn to listen, and to observe. Yes, that's enough time to allow the silent exterior to permeate the noisy interior. It's enough time to settle your spirit and become silent in your soul.

And what evidence do we have that Zechariah did just that?

Immediately his mouth was opened and his tongue was loosed, and he began to speak, praising God.

~Luke 1:64

Zechariah's first words after nine months of silence? Praise. And his next words? Blessing. He blessed the nation and then he blessed his son.

Today I feel my heart turn towards my children. I want to intentionally bless them this Advent season so that they, too, are prepared to enter Christmas. I want to build them up, encourage them towards the way they should go. My list for this week: listen, observe, bless.

Shhh...

When Zechariah saw him, he was startled and gripped with fear.

Yep. That would be me, too. My stumbling faith, my inconsistent trust, it is hard for me to imagine that I wouldn't be startled at the sight of an angel of the Lord. Hard to imagine being fearless before him. And I don't think I could immediately toss aside my fear when told: "Do not be afraid." No, I'm pretty sure I don't know how to do that.

Zechariah asked the angel, "How can I be sure of this?"

And there I am again. The angel of the Lord saying that God has heard my impossible prayer and is answering...so many times I have seen God answer impossible prayers, and I find those answers to be terrifying. Terrifying in power. Terrifying in what the answered prayer requires of me. I too prayed for children. For nine years we begged God to send us children. When He answered I was overwhelmed with the gift but also the weight of responsibility. He gave us three children in 18 months and I wasn't sure how I would survive all this blessing. Of course, the only way was on my knees, but I feel for Zechariah. I would have questions too. Questions about details, about outcomes, assurances and I'd wonder what exactly I had just signed up for.

"And now you will be silent and not be able to speak until the day this happens, because you did not believe my words, which will come true at their proper time."

I used to think that the angel was punishing Zechariah, the way this sentence is constructed seems to imply that silence is a consequence for unbelief. But now I think differently. I think that silence is an antidote for unbelief. Big things come out of silence. In the beginning, Light and Life were born out of silence. Silence is not Nothing. Silence is Presence. Creation was not birthed from Nothing, it was birthed from His Presence. God is giving Zechariah a chance to keep silent, a chance to experience His Presence. He is preparing him for the Gift. The gift of fatherhood, as well as the gift of the coming Messiah. Just like the season of winter is not a season of Nothing, but a season of flickering life deep within the ground, so silence guards that flickering Life, that flickering Faith, and allows the Spirit to breathe it into flame.

Listen to the rest of the song and album here.

The End of the World

This is the season of the Little Apocalypse. The word apocalypse means "unveiling," and for a few weeks at this time of year the readings in many churches revolve around the end times. Even churches that do not use a prescribed reading program often preach sermons on the End Times during this season. Not everyone notices that, but it is purposeful. We end the year with the end in mind, with our eyes on the far horizon. I love that the American holiday of Thanksgiving falls at the end of the Church Calendar. The metaphors are so fitting, and I am a lover of good metaphors. We gather together and share a feast just as we will gather in Heaven around the Wedding Feast. We speak aloud our gratitude for the mercies of the previous year, just as we will be overcome in the Presence of the Beautiful One and shout aloud our gratitude and praise. 

And it will be good.

This morning I opened my eyes to a new day and a New Year. It is the first day of Advent. But this day is also a part of the Little Apocalypse. The readings for this day are from Jesus' last discourse:

Jesus said to his disciples: Be watchful! Be alert! You do not know when the time will come. It is like a man traveling abroad. He leaves home and places his servants in charge, each with his own work, and orders the gatekeeper to be on the watch. Watch, therefore; you do not know when the lord of the house is coming, whether in the evening or at midnight, or at cockcrow, or in the morning. May he not come suddenly and find you sleeping. What I say to you, I say to all: "Watch!"

So, we start with the end, with an unveiling. Really, isn't everything an unveiling? God is always opening our eyes, always connecting dots for us. Our lives are filled with endings, that turn out to be beginnings, that turn out to be unveilings. I know (and love) so many people who have struggled this year with endings, truly devasting endings, and I have seen God unveil Himself to them, I have seen the green shoots of beginnings growing through the ashes. This turn of the seasons reminds us to hope.

And speaking of watching and gatekeepers, there was a gatekeeper assigned by blood to keep the watch at the temple gate. He was a righteous man. When it fell to him to burn incense and offer up the prayer for the nation of Israel, he took his job seriously. He entered in and fervently prayed for his people and begged that the Messiah would come. To this prayer he joined his wounded heart. He was childless and he knew the ache of desire for a son. He prayed from his belly, from the very depths of himself. He cried out for them all, "Send us a Child!" I don't know if Zechariah knew he was praying two prayers, one for himself and one for his people, but God answered both of them.

I am fascinated by this Advent-man, this Preparer of the Way. We know from Psalm 50 (among many others) that a man the Bible calls "righteous" has offered his heart to God along with  obedience and gratitude. I read through several chapters in First Chronicles to see what Zechariah's duties might have been. Here are some of them: he was to keep watch at the gate, to share duties with his brothers, to burn the incense, to hold the key, to take care of the linens, care for the flour, wine, oil, incense and spices, to mix the spices, bake the bread, and sing day and night. I see many of my daily chores in this sacred list.

What if I who am also called out of my endings to keep watch, what if I also blessed each moment? What if I said Grace, or said a blessing before getting out of bed, before washing the laundry or the dishes, before baking and cooking? What if I sought to make each moment sacred by offering up my thanks and praise throughout the day? What if I sang day and night, the song of longing, the song of the redeemed, a song of sorrow, a song of hope and thanks. Would my heart then be prepared to receive the Gift that is coming? This is my intention this Advent season. I will fail often, but I am overwhelmed with need for the Beautiful One to unveil Himself and make a beginning from my endings, so I look forward to this Advent, following in the steps of Zechariah.

Lectio Divina

It is my practice to prepare for Advent by reading through the beginning of Luke, specifically everything leading up to and including the birth of Christ, before Advent actually begins. The kind of reading that I do is called Lectio Divina. I thought this might be the time and place to discuss it.

There are so many books written about this ancient practice. Theologians of many denominations and God-followers for well over 2,000 years have engaged in and attempted to teach lectio divina. I suspect that might be the problem. Lectio Divina is very simple but it is remarkably deep and I think that theologians with over 2,000 years on their hands have perhaps given the impression that this technique is either difficult or irrelevant. It is neither.

So here it is, all you need to know about lectio divina:

In order to successfully engage in lectio divina it is necessary to believe these things:

1. The Word of God is alive.
2. God has something to say to you.

And it is necessary to do these things:

1. Read with alert attention.
2. Listen for God's heart speaking to your heart through His Words.

This type of reading is different from studying in that the goal is not to pick apart the text, to analyze or explain it. The goal is to listen. When I start, I settle myself prayerfully. I let go of distractions so that I can listen with alert attention. I bow my heart and whisper, "Speak Lord, your servant is listening." Then I begin to read. I am reading with alert attention, looking for something that jumps out at me. Christine Valters Paintner says, "listen for a word or phrase that beckons you, addresses you, unnerves you, disturbs you, stirs you or seems especially ripe with meaning--what I describe as a word or phrase that 'shimmers.'"  I am asking the Lord to teach me this Advent by giving me some aspect of the season on which to focus, meditate and grow.

When I am finished reading, I usually sit silently before the Lord waiting for Him to make connections for me. Then I read the text a second time and tuck the stirrings into my heart to ponder throughout the season. Henri Nouwen says, "A listening heart therefore means a heart in which we stand open to God with all we are and have." This is how I want to spend my Advent, standing open to God with all I am and have so that on Christmas Day my heart will be a manger-throne.

At this point, I commit myself to learning the lesson I am asking the Lord to teach. Throughout the season I will go back often to that part of the story that called to me to see if I notice anything new. I will live alert to any lessons He might have for me. I will also consider ways to incorporate what God is teaching me into Christmas this year (as decor? family devotions? gift­ giving? in interactions with family?).

Everything else written about lectio divina is extra stuff meant to help define the experience, or help you to enter in and process the experience more fully. It's all good stuff. St. Benedict organized the practice into 4 steps that basically emphasize the give and take of divine conversation. He (and many theologians after him) recommend reading the text 4 times and listening in a different way each time. Perhaps we will look at those in the future.

For now, the bottom line is that:

1. Lectio divina=reading with a listening heart.
2. Advent=readying my heart to receive God-With-Us.

To Everything There is a Season

To Everything there is a season, and though the seasons repeat, there is an opening and a closing to each cycle. There is a rhythm, a breathing in and a breathing out. I am grateful for the rhythm and the repetition. Each time through, I learn something new, I grow in a new way.

The Church Calendar begins with Advent--the expectant waiting for the Promised One. It is a time for opening arms wide so that we can hold the Christ Child close when He arrives. The Church Calendar ends in November with the emphasis on remembering those who have come before and gone on ahead. This is the time to think about what we need to let go. The year has been full and now we remember that the striving and the establishing were not the goals--no, they were never the goals--but merely the work of a season. Now we bow to the Mystery, to the One who has a plan we can't yet see clearly, to the One we trust anyway. It is a time for opening hands and arms wide so that we can hold God's Hands as He extends them to us.

Opening arms wide. When we do that we expose our hearts and leave them vulnerable. So, here in this last month of Ordinary Time, at the end of the Church Year, we practice vulnerability and letting go. Then we enter Advent, the beginning of the Church Year and practice waiting with hands and arms open, we ready and expose our tender hearts to receive Him.

Here is a poem for this season:

The Armful by Robert Frost

For every parcel I stoop down to seize
I lose some other off my arms and knees,
And the whole pile is slipping, bottles, buns,
Extremes too hard to comprehend at once.
Yet nothing I should care to leave behind.
With all I have to hold with hand and mind
And heart, if need be, I will do my best.
To keep their building balanced at my breast.
I crouch down to prevent them as they fall;
Then sit down in the middle of them all.
I had to drop the armful in the road
And try to stack them in a better load.

We can't carry it "all." That's not what we were made for. We were not built as beasts of burden but as light and graceful dancers. We can't even hold all the blessings that God pours out upon us. Perhaps it's time to let the Lord carry the hard things, drop some of the material things, thank Him for the good things and then ask Him what things can be released to make room for Him. He is coming. Soon.

Cultivating Alert Attention: A Rationale

Far from a passive receptivity to whatever life throws my way, selfless openness calls for an alert attention to what is going on around me. It demands an awareness of what my five senses are picking up in the present circumstances and requires an active engagement with the world, especially the present moment and the situation in which I find myself.

--Albert Haase, "This Sacred Moment: Becoming Holy Right Where You Are"

There are several old men I admire in the "cloud of witnesses" that surrounds me. One is a man who at seventy-five, an age when he could have expected to rest, to be self-focused, finally spending time doing the things he wanted to do and with plenty of money to rest comfortably, abandoned it all--friends, family, fame, and life on his own terms--to follow God's voice. Who does that? And, really, how loud does that voice have to be to be recognizable at a time in one's life when no one would fault you for staying home and doing your own thing? This kind of listening? This is alert attention. It is familiarity. This listener? I think he had been listening a long time. I think he had practice noticing God's presence, accepting God's presence and engaging God's presence. This kind of response? It is the response of the loved one who loves. He was just a man, of advanced age, when he left everything behind to follow God's voice. I bet many thought he was a crazy old man, since he didn't even know where he was going. But the where didn't matter. What mattered was that God had inclined Himself to whisper, "follow me." The Bible tells me that this man, Abraham, is the "father of us all," and this is the legacy he has left me. I, too, can learn to apply active attention to God's Presence.

My uncle was in his seventies when he heard God call him to China. He was thrilled by the challenge to preach the gospel in a place where it is illegal to do so using words. He loved his students and taught them English. His supervisor told me last month that there is an entire group of Chinese who speak English with their hands just like my Italian-American uncle.

I grew up listening to my uncle's sermons. One of my favorites is on the parable of the talents. The gist of his sermon is this: God uses this parable to teach us about His Kingdom. The talents referred to in the parable are money, but they also represent other things God gives us. This includes wealth and material items, but also giftedness, knowledge and experiences. We are to exercise dominion over every thing that God has given us. We are to steward it and steward it well. This is being alert to active engagement with world in this present moment. Perhaps stewarding wealth and material items are somewhat straightforward, but how do you steward experiences? Have you experienced a miscarriage? Can you come alongside someone enduring that heartbreak today? Have you experienced any kind of loss for which there are no words? Can you offer a wordless presence to someone now? Alongside the hard things, God has made an investment into our lives, He has buried a treasure. The hard things are hard. We are to tell the Truth, and we should call things by their true names. The hard things are hard. Some things are unspeakable. Alert attention assures me God is here. Living with alert attention gives me the opportunity to invest in those around me. This is the same as connecting with Jesus, as He identifies Himself always with "the least of these."

So, this is the race marked out for me: to live noticing God's Presence, and to be alert to the invitation to be with Him whether alone or in a crowd.

The Remembering Time

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.

Hebrews 12:1

November is the Remembering Time. These early days in particular are dedicated to reflecting on the "great cloud of witnesses." For me, this is valuable as a reminder that I have never been left to take this journey alone. God has provided persons for every step. I have been mentored by the faithful lives of those mentioned in the Bible: Joseph forgave great betrayals; Eve's pro and con list often looks a lot like mine; Elijah spent himself to exhaustion in service; Moses gave up his life and then gave up his life and then did it again...and again. I have been accompanied by the lives and writings of St. Teresa, St. Francis, George Mueller, Henri Nouwen and so many others. I have been taught by faithful family members and members of my husband's family, by people I have only met for a few minutes and a couple of people who know me well and still call me "friend."

And what do these witnesses do? They inspire us to continue to move forward. They remind us to be. Today I am myopic. I can't see far and deep into the story, but I don't have to. God has placed witnesses close by. And standing on either side of me are some beautiful examples. The people who bookend me--my children and my father--inspire me. Here are two creations inspired by them.

"Braving the Tides" is an art quilt I did of my boys. My oldest son, Gabe, is a special needs kid. Every time he encounters a new situation he slips his hand into his younger brother Nick's hand. On the first day of Junior High group at church, Nick walked into the room full of excitement that he was going to make new friends. He is a very social kid and he loves people. He is also very socially aware. Just as he was approaching a group of 7th grade boys, Gabe slipped his hand into his. I watched them from the door. Nick never let go of Gabe's hand, even though I am sure he knew it could be social suicide. I watched them for a long time. Later, when I came back for them, they were still holding hands. That night I told Nick how proud I was of him for holding onto Gabe for as long as Gabe needed him. Nick said, "Why wouldn't I? He is my brother." I thought about how much Gabe trusts Nick. How he knows he can lean on him when he is scared. And I thought about how much Nick is willing to sacrifice for Gabe.

"Braving The Tides" ©2008 Michelle Winter. In this interpretation, the boys are golden, almost glowing in the twilight, while the tides swirl around them. The waters are at once beautiful and unpredictable.

Several years ago, I took a picture of my little boys at the beach not long after Gabe recovered from a stroke. That picture captured a moment of gratitude for me. Gratitude for the lives of those boys and for the plan God has for them. In that moment I realized that He was not just my Father, but also the Father of each one of my children. That photograph took on new meaning for me on that first day of Junior High, and I wanted to revisit the image more symbolically. The quilt, "Braving the Tides," was the result. My sons were pre-teens with all the pressures that implies. And yet, they continued to face Life together—one brother leaning on the other with a trusting love, the other holding him up with a patient and enduring love. They were brought together and are held together by the Holy Spirit—their love for one another an example to me.

My father was a diplomat by vocation. His perseverance was another great example to me. Below is the first poem I wrote that he didn't see. It is about the unique value of each person and it is about doing the task God has given you, two things my father lived.

No More

The bridge builder put down his tools,
"No one thanks the bridge builders,
I will build bridges no more."
At first few took notice
They did not care to know peoples on islands they had never visited.
But then the old bridges crumbled
And brothers were stranded apart.

The peacemaker closed his door
"No one is interested in peace,
I will fight for peace no more."
And things continued as before
But the injustices, wounds and offenses piled high
And the walls became a fortress
And the only word was War.

The poet put down his pen
"No one reads poetry
I will write poems no more."
The noisy world did not miss the voice that stopped speaking
But no one called attention to the wonders, no one knew when to stop and marvel.
No one tried to catch the wind while the world struggled to breathe
And then it's heart stopped.

by Michelle Winter

And so, let us run.

In Our Weakness, The Spirit Himself

I have a song replaying in me from my father's funeral last week. It's not the song I thought would accompany me during these grieving days. The funeral was so lovingly planned, and each song chosen for the way it spoke of him. Each song except this one. This was the only song that the church insisted was non-negotiable because the singer did not have time to learn to lead a new psalm. This song was imposed on us and I chafed under the edict. But I bit my tongue, and this is the song God is using now:

Shepherd me O God, beyond my wants, beyond my fears, from death into Life.

And I have learned that this is often the way my soul groans. There are times when a melody will get stuck in my head, but I have learned to recognize the difference between a stuck melody and an embedded one. This is an embedded prayer, a plea from my soul because I don't know how to pray right now. Once I realized that was what was happening here, that my soul was groaning for me, that the Holy Spirit was praying for me, I turned my attention to the prayer.

We were shepherds for many years. I know a bit about shepherding a flock. Sheep tend to be fearful. We always moved gently among them, speaking softly. We enjoyed them, smiled over them. When we needed to make a change, move them to a better pasture, immunize, shear or clip hooves, do a health check, or transport them, we always planned ahead to minimize their stress. We knew that any change from their normal routine would be scary, and we did what we could to lessen the fear. Asking God to shepherd me feels like an act of submission. It feels like falling into Him, trusting Him. It is different from asking Him to rescue me. That feels more passive on my part. Asking for shepherding feels active and yet acknowledges my weakness and His Compassion, Strength and Mercy--all things I need right now. 

And so I sat yesterday, joining myself to the groaning of my soul, and I noticed the rest of the words. My soul's prayer is that My Shepherd would move me beyond my wants and fears. I want my father back. I want more time. I want a do-over. I fear that I let him down. That I will let him down. These are all included in the feelings of grief I am experiencing right now. Asking God to move me through these things and beyond them from death into Life--yes. I didn't know to pray for these things, but this is the right prayer today. And I feel Him shepherding me through, not pulling or yanking, but allowing me to plod slowly through this field.

In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express. And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints in accordance with God's will.

Going on a Treasure Hunt

On a gray morning a few years ago, Todd and I went into downtown Portland on a breakfast date. We happened to take our cameras with us.

"Have you noticed the doors along this street?" Todd asked, staring out the restaurant window. After breakfast he was all about the doors and door frames. He was so delighted with his treasure. He took photos from every angle, laying on the ground to get some shots of interesting lintels and door knobs. At first, I was entertained just watching him.

The painted "Forgive" is on the right side of the stand and the yellow "Free" is on the left side of the base.

After awhile I needed some other entertainment.  I took my lens cap off and prayed. So, Lord, do you have anything for me today? I'm listening. I turned around and it punched me in the stomach. Do you see it? Right there on a cold November street in downtown Portland: "Forgive" in white paint, and "Free" printed in yellow caps. It's the timing that  always amazes me. At that moment, this wasn't just an interesting oddity. This was there for me, and I was listening.

This photograph is not a money picture. It isn't well composed, it's flat, there is nothing arresting about it. I share it here because contemplative photography is most importantly about listening. It is about relationship. It is about being aware of God's Presence and meeting Him with my presence. Contemplative photography is a prayer. Sometimes these prayers will result in a beautiful photograph, but they will always result in a spiritual closeness. Improving your skills as a photographer is an enjoyable and worthy endeavor, but don't let any real or perceived lack of skill keep you from going on a God-seeking treasure hunt with your camera in your hand.

If you would like to use your camera as part of your devotional time this week, prayerfully look for the treasures the Lord has hidden for you. You do not need to limit yourself to quiet places, but you do need to be keenly aware of your surroundings so limit personal distractions if you can. Listen, but also allow yourself to experience wonder and to be delighted.

Treasure Hunting

My dear friend, Lydia Budai, is a gifted photographer. She makes her living capturing beauty in the world. Lydia also uses her camera to worship God. Many years ago she introduced me to contemplative photography. She describes it as hunting for treasure. She takes her camera and goes out into the world with her eyes wide open, looking for God. This is her prayer time. She isn't seeking a perfect photo during these excursions, she is seeking God. 

I asked her to put together a presentation for one of my classes. For this video she married some of her contemplative photos with a journal entry.

I am surrounded by the sacred. Sometimes a viewfinder can help me find it, can help me to sharpen my focus so that I can see it. 

The Christ Victorious Project

I have put up a page for The Christ Victorious Project. This was a project created for corporate worship. One of the functions of the artist under King David was to help people remember The Mighty Acts of God. That is how my little team of artists functioned for this project which was unveiled Easter morning 2012.

Walking Barefoot in the World

I stood on hallowed ground today. The library at Pacific University in Forest Grove, Oregon,  is showing twelve pieces by sculptor Diana Lubarsky.  I have seen images of these pieces before. She has pictures of each sculpture on her website. I was unprepared for the impact of viewing these pieces in person. There is a warmth, a life that emanates from each clay, bronze and terra cotta person Diana has lovingly and respectfully formed. She tells the story of the holocaust. She tells sorrow, perseverance, love, hope, sacrifice, uncertainty, deep aching loss, loneliness, injustice, peace, legacy, healing, and defiance. I experienced all  these emotions at the exhibit today, but I was overwhelmed by Faith—a burning bush in the desert, a light so unexpected that I couldn’t turn away.

Diana Lubarsky's Diaspora I, on exhibit at the Pacific University library in Forest Grove, Oregon during the months of September and October 2014.

I recognized these clay people. Is it ok to say that? I have never experienced anything close to the horrors they lived, but I recognized the loneliness, the grief, the sorrow, as well as the fierce love and defiance. Suddenly, the holocaust victims had faces. They were individual people, not just notes in a textbook. They were here and then they weren’t. We lost millions of people. We lost.

But God. I sat in the exhibit and had to confess to my God, that I know nothing, that I don’t understand, that I am so very small. But God was in this place today and I worshiped The Mysterious One. Because there is nothing else.

Diana Lubarsky’s exhibit will be at the library at Pacific University until October 31st, 2014. I highly recommend it. There are better pictures of the current exhibit here.

Learning to Listen

One of the reasons I value art for worship is because it helps me to clear a wordless space to listen for His voice. Wordlessness is difficult for me. Henri Nouwen says that sometimes attempting to pray in silence, his mind becomes filled with a banana tree of hungry monkeys! That metaphor always makes me smile because I can relate. Using art has been a productive way to begin to train and discipline my mind so that prayer can be a conversation rather than a monologue, or an exercise in list-making (all things I have been prone to do).

My friend, Jo Reimer,  a brilliant collage artist, has a series that I want to share with you. She has given me permission to use her work in this way. Today we are going to practice using art to worship. The series is titled Sermon Notes, a collection of 51 pieces, that can be found here.

When I use art for worship I tend to go through these stages: I notice that I am drawn to a particular piece; I prayerfully consider the elements that drew me in; I listen for what the Holy Spirit has for me; I spend time in silence with Him.  Here is an example from my prayer notebook of how I used Jo’s  piece entitled “Truthful.”

"Truthful" from Jo Reimer's Sermon Notes series.

 I am drawn—The colors in this are provocative. Blue and orange, peace and boldness, are side-by-side. I am attracted by the word—TRUTHFUL. How perfect! Truth is provocative. There is an element of peace and an element of boldness to it.

 I come—When I think about “truth” I am filled with feelings of safety and peace. Lord, I thank you that I can trust You. That You speak the Truth—that you are Truth. In You there is no guile, no deceit. No room for lies. I can rest safely in You, and I praise You for that. I DO trust You. I want to worship You in spirit and in Truth. Lord, what am I withholding from You? Am I being truthful before You? Am I coming to You pretending to be something I am not? Truth isn’t all safety and peace, is it? It is provocative and confrontational. Here I am—examine me.

 I listen—At this point I put down the pen and listened. At first there was only silence, but soon the Lord brought to my mind several fears that I needed to release to Him. I attempted to obey and entrust my fears to Him. I then remained quietly present in the moment. Heart speaking to heart.

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If you would like to use Jo's work as a starting point for worship, choose a time and place free of distractions. It can be helpful to some people to journal during this exercise. If you are one of these people, be ready with paper and pen (but also be willing to put your pen down when needed). Click here to go to Jo Reimer's flicker page. Scroll through her various pieces and notice which one you are drawn to. Click on it to enlarge and then prayerfully consider the piece. Use the following questions as a guide as long as they serve you:

Why am I drawn to this piece?

Consider/journal what it is about this work that draws you to it at this moment.

Come to it. Ask the Holy Spirit to make connections for you, to form a prayer in you.

Listen/Commune. If you find that your mind has wandered, take a moment to offer that stray thought to the Lord, and then settle back into a listening posture.

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Give yourself some time to ponder the experience. Give yourself at least 24 hours. Then consider these questions:

Was this a new experience for you?

Did you notice any resistance to the exercise? Where do you think that came from?

In what ways were you called?

Can you use this technique of noticing what draws your attention, asking the Holy Spirit what He might have for you, in another context during your day?

Once you start to practice noticing and listening, it will become a habit. It will become the beginning of "praying without ceasing."

Maturing in Faith

"Brother, how does an apple ripen? It just sits in the Sun."

-Thomas Merton

Being the Child

I am a poet. I keep a notebook, several notebooks, going all the time with all manner of observations. This afternoon I was flipping through my Purse Notebook. So thin it is almost a pamphlet with just a light cardboard cover, this is the notebook I carry with me—and it shows. The edges are bent, the creases hold lint from the bottom of my purse. On the second page of this notebook I found these thoughts I had written on Mark 10:13-15 where Jesus tells me that to enter The Kingdom, I must come as a child:

Think about how an adult walks—with clarity of purpose, evenly towards a goal. How does a child walk? A child moves from one delight to another, allowing himself to wonder, allowing himself to notice. To notice tiny things, interesting smells, various textures and how good it feels to skip or hop or twirl or run.

This reminded me of something in my Main Notebook. This is the notebook I use for wrestling with ideas and working through sounds and pace. In February I wrote:

Being the Child—what does a child do? A child asks questions, and the questions of a child so often begin with—why? Why? It isn’t about asking the “right” questions but about coming as a child does, with a lot of questions. Why do children ask so many questions? Is it just to keep the dialogue going? Just to interact with the Father? That’s part of what it was for me. My father loved airplanes, so I leaned in and listened, asked questions, just to extend the time we had together, trying to connect.

I’ve been pondering these things this year. What does it mean to Be the Child? I don’t have answers, but living with the question has made this year lighter. We all have questions, hard questions, and God does not tell us that our questions are not important. In fact, He tells us quite the opposite, “Ask the questions! Bring them to Me! I want to hear what is in your heart! No question is off limits. Come! Come to Me Little One. I am bigger than all your questions, and I don’t find any of your heart questions scary. I am here. Climb into My lap, and ask Me.”

So how do we ask “rightly?” I don’t think this is about the form of the questions at all. I think this is about emphasis. Children often ask questions, and as we adults try to find a perfect answer to satisfy them, the children wander off to the Next Thing. They are often truly satisfied with a response that connects rather than accurately answers. An acceptable response to, “why is the bug doing that?” can be, “that is so interesting! Let's watch it for awhile.” The child has shared an experience and that is often enough. This response does not negate the question. It removes the urgency, the emphasis on the question and places the emphasis on the relationship. If the question continues to linger in the heart of the child, it will be asked again. At this point, parent and child will discover or uncover answers together.

This is an aspect of contemplative prayer: we come to our Lord and wonder. We ask why. But instead of demanding an immediate answer, we lean into His Presence. Living the questions does not negate the questions but it changes our focus so that we can live in companionship with The Comforter. It takes our eyes off of ourselves so that we can look into His Face.

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

The Word Speaks in Pictures

I was in distress. For almost two years I struggled with a pervasive, all-consuming fear. It kept me from approaching God. I still attended church, continued to go through the motions, but I couldn't talk to God. I couldn't find relief from the weight of my fear. But then...

During church one Sunday, our pastor led us in a lectio divina. Lectio Divina is a reverent reading of God's Word. It is about listening to the Living Word speak. My strongest experiences with lectio divina tend to be when someone else leads it. I find I am often distracted if I have to lead myself into this experience. I know it can be done and I have had good experiences with it, but by far my strongest interactions with imagination and God's Word happen when I can be completely available to the Holy Spirit without thinking at all of the "next thing." On this occasion I remember the moment, but not the text. I remember that I was sitting in fear-induced darkness and that God's Word exploded in me. The pastor's voice began to read and a picture formed in my imagination. I saw God as a Father, arms outstretched, welcoming me home. I saw myself run to Him and I felt His delight at my coming. I felt safe. I felt Home.

But in the silence after the first reading, the fear in me rose up again and I questioned this picture. "How can I come home, Father? There is so much between us and I am scared." The pastor's voice took up the reading again. Another picture formed in my imagination. I saw a little boy standing at the edge of a pool, aching with anticipation. He was so excited he couldn't stand still, yet so fearful he couldn't jump. His father, in the pool, stood with arms ready to catch his son. The little boy kept reminding his father, "Don't let go, Daddy." But it was clear from the smile on the Father's face, and I knew in my own mother-heart, that the child was truly in no mortal danger. The parent didn't need to be reminded. There was absolutely no possibility of real harm coming to that child.

Those mental pictures helped in the days ahead as I continued to struggle with fear. When I was able to pause and hold those pictures in my head as wordless prayer, the grip of fear loosened. The problem I had was that those pictures were fleeting and my fear was persistent. I needed some way to process the images God had given me. I needed to digest the truths, to take them into my bones.

My need to understand grew bigger than my pride. I asked my family to pose as figures in my mental pictures. I took photographs from every angle. We had no pool, but I had my nephew and husband pose on the back porch as if they were near a pool. Then, I asked my nephew to run over and over again in my husband's arms. They had lots of fun with this and the delight that everyone felt in this exercise was affirming to me. These mental images expressed a Truth.

See what I mean about delight? Those guys loved the running, love-crashing, nose smashing, bone crushing, hug marathon. (copyright 2014 Michelle Winter)

I began to use my sleepless nights to prayerfully pour over the photographs. One particularly anxious night, I sat in the dining room whispering, "Where is the story here?" Suddenly, I saw it. In one photograph early in the photo session, my nephew was feeling nervous. He gripped my husband's thumbs tightly, a silent "Don't let go." 

Nervous thumb-gripping and tentative little smile. I can relate! (copyright 2014 Michelle Winter)

I made a pattern from the photo, gathered fabrics and thread and began to quilt. My studio became a sacred space, a place for me to sit with the questions. The cutting was meditative, and God met me there. The piecing was an opportunity for solitude and partnership with the Holy Spirit. Each breakthrough became a celebration of co-creators. By the time the piece was stitched, embroidered and bound, I knew. I knew that God was holding me and that we could face the fear together. I was even beginning to believe we could conquer it together.

And there was something else. Something I knew in my bones. God was waiting for me in the solitude, and meeting Him there was the only necessary thing.

If you are interested in exploring lectio divina, Christine Valters Paintner has written an interesting book on the topic. I own it and revisit it often:

The Lectio Divina - The Sacred Art: Transforming Words & Images into Heart-Centered Prayer (The Art of Spiritual Living)