Wednesday, July 8, 2009

My dearest God,

"Reach higher" the voice said to me, "reach higher." Reach higher indeed, reach higher when you find yourself descending downward into despair or hopelessness. Reach higher when tempted to think in destructive ways. Reach higher when dipping downward into bitterness. Reach higher when lost in the past. Reach higher when darkness threatens to blow out the light. Reach higher when feeling misunderstood, forgotten or abandoned. Reach higher.

What is God and faith if a practicing Christian does not anticipate and listen to your voice? What is walking a life in the spirit, being on a constant pilgrimage if not united with Christ? What is religion if not a part of the intrinsic value of human living?

Such questions hearken to me when I find myself moving away, separating from the values of my faith. Not that I am walking away from you, I simply find myself isolating from the deepest part of myself. When I feel trapped by images of the past, of loss, grief and mourning, I find myself weeping tears from such a lonely place.

But I am not left alone. What came to life inside me when I was very young, faith refuses to let me walk the trail of tears alone. It calls me to attention. It reminds me that I am not simply a lonely creature on the planet but rather a woman of faith committed to the truest values of trust, belief and love. Try as I may to walk away, you come after me like the hound of heaven.
My eyes rise to heaven.

In the mass this morning I heard the words of hope, like yesterday's mass and the day before's. The ritual itself draws me into its daily rhythm of faith. This is what love for Christ is about. It is living out of a desire to follow the One who gives Life. It is setting me back on track, like a shepherd's crook draws a lost, trapped lamb, uprighting it, giving it back the ability to scamper into life.

We begin with confession. We ask Mother Mary, the angels and saints, and our brothers and sisters sitting in the pews with us to pray for us. We pray the words together, "I have sinned through what I have done and what I have failed to do. Our voices lift together with one voice as we pray the Lord's Prayer. This centering gesture draws me back each morning. Is there anything more hope-filled with grace than beginning each morning with confession, the need for prayer, listening to your Word, and eating the eucharistic feast?

I cannot move off the path for long when I return in 24 hours to the monastery for worship. This act of grace keeps me hoping. When I allow the daily psalms in my reading to speak to me of enemies, I know we are not talking about people but rather the enemies of doubt, hopelessness, self loathing, forgottenness, feelings of abandonment and rejection. I know my value does not lie in the hands of others but rather from the One who gives me life daily.

As I left the monastery to run an errand, I had someone tap me on the shoulder in the grocery store. "I saw you in mass this morning. You sat in front of me." The woman said. She stretched out her hand to me giving me her name. We talked simple talk. "May I give you a card?" She asked me. I thought it would be a business card but rather it was a business card size white card with a verse watercolor painted on it from Psalm 18.

When I returned home, I opened my bible given to me on my 35th birthday by the love of my life. I read the whole chapter, allowing its message to capture my heart. "You are my defender. The Lord is my Savior; he is my strong fortress." But what meant the most to me came later: "Death pulled its ropes tight around me; the waves of destruction rolled over me. Death pulled its ropes tight around me, and the grave sets its trap for me...The Lord reached down from heaven and took hold of me; he pulled me out of the deep waters. He rescued me from my powerful enemies...The Lord gives me light, my God dispels my darkness. He gives me strength to attack my enemies, the power to overcome their defenses...You, Lord, give me victory over my enemies."

It was not enough to receive the strength of God in worship but rather you gave me a word of faith through a stranger, a woman for whom I prayed in the universal prayer we prayed together as she also prayed for me. Your generosity penetrates every human boundary we set for ourselves as we live in hopelessness and despair. A new kind of tear spilled from my eyes as the hound held me, keeping watch.

Who are you,
Lord,
if not life's
greatest gift?
Who are you
if not the
voice of
great blessing?
Who are you,
if not
love's great center?
I reached higher,
put tape
on the box
and began packing
my books,
an act
of faith itself.
You are
my God;
there is
no other.

My love, Andrea