The Beloved Disciple

Eugene Bur

« One of his disciples—the one whom Jesus loved—was reclining next to him; »

John 13

The beloved disciple is the perfect icon for contemplative prayer.  At supper during the Passover, he is depicted in artwork ,spanning the centuries, just as the scripture describes—reclining, or leaning into the heartspace of Jesus.

He is an example of a prayer posture which will lead us into a deep connection with Christ.  Leaning into Christ and listening for His heartbeat  can be our surrender as well.

It is a simple beginning to silence the busy mind.  When all the techniques have been explored and tried, when all the teaching about prayer has been exhausted, we are left with this :

Lean into the heart of Christ and listen.

Listen for His heartbeat.  Listen for His silence.  Listen for the rhythms which so perfectly match your own.

As you strain to listen to Christ, you will find that the voices of doubt and confusion become silenced.

We learn this purity of heart from the Beloved Disciple.   So focused upon Jesus was this disciple that he was willing to walk the Way of the Cross and stay at the foot of the Cross during the final moments of Jesus’ life.  So clear was this disciple about the pure love given to him, that he believed in the Resurrection without a Resurrection appearance.

Thus does this beloved one mirror our own belovedness.  We are also the beloved of Christ.  Can we stop and listen ?

Can we will one thing ?  Are we willing to walk the Way of the Cross this Lent and not turn away from suffering ?

Blessings,

Debra

Open Your Eyes

I lift up my eyes to the hills— from where will my help come?

My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.

Psalm 121

This is a comforting Psalm especially when I find myself troubled and without real direction.  I can look toward God.  I can breathe in the beauty of the hills and reflect on the power of the Creator God.

But this Psalm is also about a radical shift in perspective.  Stop looking at the ground.  Stop shortening your gaze so that all you can see is right in front of you.

Arise and stand tall.  Move your eyes toward the horizon.  Shift your gaze to the big picture and walk with confidence into the valley or wade through the stream.

God is calling you onward this Lent.  On to repentence.  On to reconciliation.  On to mercy.  On to Resurrection.

But you must be willing to look forward.  Abandon the familiar scene and stretch your vision to meet the One who has all vision and all wisdom.

Open your eyes and walk.

Blessings,

Debra

Fire and Ash

…all our Wednesdays are marked by ashes —

     we begin this day with that taste of ash in our mouth:

       of failed hope and broken promises,

       of forgotten children and frightened women,

     we ourselves are ashes to ashes, dust to dust;

     we can taste our mortality as we roll the ash around on our tongues.

We are able to ponder our ashness with

   some confidence, only because our every Wednesday of ashes

   anticipates your Easter victory over that dry, flaky taste of death.

On this Wednesday, we submit our ashen way to you —

   you Easter parade of newness.

   Before the sun sets, take our Wednesday and Easter us,

     Easter us to joy and energy and courage and freedom;

     Easter us that we may be fearless for your truth.

   Come here and Easter our Wednesday with

     mercy and justice and peace and generosity.

We pray as we wait for the Risen One who comes soon.

-Walter Bruggemann

Ash Wednesday, one day that reminds us, if we let it, of the fire that can burst from our hearts, but not destroy it.  Like the burning bush in the wilderness, we are aflame with God.  Surely there were some ashes beneath that tree.

When Moses took his shoes off, did he step upon hot ash ?

Did that heat scare him ; cause him to tell the Lord that he was the wrong person for the job ? 

Does the heat of God’s desire scare me ? Do I turn away and run head long into the cold indifference which may feel better-at least for now ?

As we contemplate a Holy Lent this day and this season, let us welcome the fire of the living God.  We have come not just from ashes and dust, but also from fire and light.  Lent is a time to consider our true nature as God’s beloved children made of cosmic dust, and spent earth, and brilliant starlight.  

 We are all of these.

In Lent we can join with others who want to shed themselves of the weight of pretending that we are less than we actually are. 

How shall you discover yourself this Lent ?

Blessings,

Debra

The Open Window

We should highly rejoice that God dwells in our soul

and still more highly should we rejoice that our soul dwells in God.

Our soul is made to be God's dwelling place,

and the dwelling place of our soul

is God who was never made.

Julian of Norwich

Our souls are the dwelling place of God, says Julian.

We are in God and God is in us.  Wherever we are that is where we will find God.

These are the great spiritual truths upon which our prayer depends. If we did not believe tht God dwelt within us, we would be wandering in the desert searching for any clue that might tell us where we would find God.

And yet, I believe, that is what so many of us are doing, even within the context of prayer.  We are looking outside ourselves for God.  We are searchng the horizon for a sign of God’s power and God’s presence.

And the sign is there, isn’t it ?  In the mountains and the seascape.  In the sunrise and the moonlight.  Still we search because we know that there is yet a more intimate sign of the love of God.

Julian of Norwich knows about finding God right where you are.  She spent much of her life in a small cell next to a chapel in Norwich, England.  I visited the reconstruction of this small room on a spring day.  I was impressed by it’s size and it’s tidy starkness.  There is very little to engage the mind—four walls, an altar, a bed and a table.  There is a window through which conversations and food were shared during Julian’s time.  It is in this empty space that Julian was freed to focus on Christ.  And Christ did come to her in amazing visions filled with wisdom enough to last for the rest of her life.

We may not have visions.  We may not have a tiny stark cell in which to focus our entire energy upon Christ.  But we are, no less than Julian, filled with the reality of God.  God dwells within us as surely as God dwelt within her.

Let us make a space, a tiny empty spot, within our hearts and invite God in.  Let us stand at the window of our souls and converse with Christ. 

Blessings,

Debra