What Does the Holy Spirit 'Feel Like'?

That was the FB question I posted for the church today.

Remember, I am a literal thinker, so I really mean what happens within our bodies, minds and spirits when we believe we’re having a direct encounter with God’s own Spirit.

The best word that I have for such times in my own life is heavy.

‘Heavy’, again, in its literal sense.

Most modern-day writers who speak of the encounter with the divine identify a ‘spirit of heaviness’ as something connected to sin and the broken world.

But it’s not like that for me, this heaviness which I would not call a ‘spirit of’ at all.

I hear and read others speak of a lightness – either a lightness of being, of a sort of floating self, held aloft by the palm of God’s own hand, or of an all-pervading light.

For me, it is the reverse.

Image: Ute Kraus, Institute of Physics, Universität Hildesheim, Space Time Travel (http://www.spacetimetravel.org/).
Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 2.0 Germany

When God comes knocking at the door of my soul, there is darkness and a great heaviness. . . the darkness being the presence of everything . . . the heaviness of heavy water and black holes, where everything collapses into not itself, but into God.

It is the in-between place outside of time and in between breaths.

It is a descending thing, as if I am sinking into God – every particle of me.

Physically as well as spiritually, it’s like I’m being trash-compacted into the smallest possible me there can be.

It’s neither danger nor safety.

Nothing of the external goes away and I may ‘leave’ this space any time I wish and I always come away ‘more than’ in some indefinable way.

What I tell you in the dark, speak in the daylight; 

what is whispered in your ear, proclaim from the roofs.

–Matthew 10.27

When The Siren Goes Off

Today while I was talking on the phone with a congregant, The Siren went off.  In this community, too small to qualify even as a village, The Siren is a call – all hands on deck – come now!

Or it’s an exercise.

I’m not sure which it was today.  Most likely it was a call for the volunteers who make up the Fire Department or Rescue Squad to respond – quickly.

The Siren is loud enough to be heard for miles.

I live right next door.  (That’s my back yard and garage in the picture).

But whether it’s the sound of the Rescue Squad sirens or the Fire Engines, or the even louder clarion call for help of The Siren, I hear them all.

Sometimes they’re headed way out into the country.  Sometimes they’re headed right next door.

But whenever I hear them, I always stop what I’m doing and say a little prayer – for the safety of all those responding to the call, for the healing and rescue needed for those to whom they respond.

What I don’t always remember to say or pray is my thanks – thanks that these men and women put their lives on hold to respond to the call, Come now!

And so I say it now: to all the members of fire and rescue squad departments the world over, and especially to the volunteers, Thank you.  Thank you for your service.  Thank you for your willingness.  Thank you for your kindnesses to strangers.  Thank you for being there for all of us.

For answering when The Siren goes off, thank you.
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If you want to give a shout out of thanks to the McDowell Volunteer Fire Department, check out their web site at McDowell VFD and check out the rest of the site too.

"I Dont' Know -- We Didn't Get It Yet"

Creative Commons/Flickr

When I spoke to my grandson Rowen on the phone yesterday, he was with his dad getting pizza.  Making conversation, I asked him, “What are you getting on your pizza?”  There was silence.  Hoping to prompt him a bit more, I asked, “Are you getting pepperoni?”  His response: “I don’t know – we didn’t get it yet.”

I chuckled at the literal truth of his statement and we were off to other 4-year-old conversational topics, like why it wouldn’t be good to let Sidney the Mighty Huntress of the Night (our shared black cat) eat the birds outside my window.

But reflecting back, what strikes me about Rowen’s very clear understanding of what he does and does not know is the child’s motif of living in the present.

How old are we when we start predicting outcomes?  When expectations become the norm?  When failed expectations equate to failed realities in our minds?

It seems the by the age of 5, we humans are pretty good at predicting outcomes.  DELL

But that’s not the same as creating expectations.  Rowen was unwilling or unable to speculate that because he usually had pepperoni on his pizza’s that he would this time as well.  He was simply content to wait until he saw the pizza to ‘know’ what this pizza would be about.

When do we stop being content to live in the Land of Not Knowing, the land that might just as well be named the Land of Simply Being?

Of course, we have to make predictions, operate on assumptions based on past experience in order to operate in this world.

But we also have to allow room to be surprised, to be content to not know what comes next with any real certainty, to be surprised and delighted every time pepperoni comes our way.

Heed the Advice of the Wise: On Being a Following Shepherd

When I first met Arthur Pow, he was tending the flowers of the church grounds at St. Luke’s in Greenock, Scotland, where I was serving as a student minister intern.  I was leaving church when Arthur, then in his 80's,  took a break from his gardening to meet me.

We spoke for a time, during which Arthur spoke to me of shepherds and their dogs – following the flock, not leading; gently keeping an eye out, not herding.

I think now and I thought then that Arthur was giving me a bit of wisdom.

Lead by following.  I wonder: is that part of Jesus’ notion that the first shall be last?  Watching out for the strays, taking it slow – no hurry, leading by following?

I tend to want to charge ahead, only seldom checking to see if anyone is following, to hurry, to be impatient with the ‘flock’, which, by its very nature, slows each other down.

But maybe slowing each other down is part of what we do for each other when we come together.

A slow herd seldom falls from the cliff.

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Arthur was a retired physician who loved flowers.  Arthur died peacefully this January 16th past.  Well done, good and faithful friend to so many.  Dr. Pow's Obituary

The Culture Clash of the Literal Mind: The Birth of a Food Terrorist

I have a literal mind.  I barely understand metaphor, symbol, signage, in my own culture.  Plop me down in someone else’s culture and I am lost.  So I read and study and do exactly as I am told.

Like the day I became known as the ‘Food Terrorist’.

Serving with Christian Peacemaker Teams (CPT) in Iraq, I was attending a meal hosted by a friend’s sister.  Somehow around the tablecloth laid out on the ground, I got separated from the rest of the CPT group and ended up being tended by an Iraqi gentleman whose name I never knew.

The table is laden with food, every dish within arms’ reach of every guest.  Bowls of red soup, chicken so tender it pulled away from the carcass which rested on a steaming bed of rice.  Using the flat bread to grasp, emulating my Arabic dinner companions, foregoing the fork thoughtfully provided for we Westerners, and concealing my offending left-handedness as best I could, I commenced eating.

And eating . . . flavor upon flavor in my mouth . . . eating beyond satisfaction – eating for obligation (“Never, never, never, refuse any food that is offered to you”, I had been told) and eating for joy . . . the gentleman beside me filling my plate with accompanying smiles . . . again and again . . . and again . . .

I do not understand his words, but the gestures and the smile are universal . . . here – try this . . . and this . . . and this . . . and I do.

And it is bliss.

But then I notice . . . the quiet . . . mid-bite, I look around and see the stunned faces, Arabic and Western alike – none can believe how much I can eat.

It is at that moment that my new friend pronounces me a Food Terrorist.

Laughter fills the silence.

The meal has ended.

Isn't It Time to Put Peace On the Table? A State of the Union Commentary

In his State of the Union Address to Congress Tuesday night, referring to Iran and its nuclear ambitions, whatever they might be, President Obama said,

And we will safeguard America’s own security against those who threaten our citizens, our friends, and our interests. Look at Iran. Through the power of our diplomacy, a world that was once divided about how to deal with Iran’s nuclear program now stands as one. The regime is more isolated than ever before. Its leaders are faced with crippling sanctions. And as long as they shirk their responsibilities, this pressure will not relent. Let there be no doubt: America is determined to prevent Iran from getting a nuclear weapon, and I will take no options off the table to achieve that goal.  

But a peaceful resolution of this issue is still possible, and far better. And if Iran changes course and meets its obligations, it can rejoin the community of nations.  State of the Union Transcript

What was interesting to me, interesting and heartbreaking, was the response of the audience: when the President said, “I will take no options off the table to achieve that goal”, he received a standing O.  [Minute 56:26].  But when he said, “a peaceful resolution of this issue is still possible”, four or five people gave a few claps [Minute 56:47].  And when he concluded with the hope that Iran might rejoin the community of nations, there was absolute silence.  [Minute 56:54].

When the President said that he would “take no options off the table”, the meaning is plain in American political parlance: the President retains what he views as his prerogative to use nuclear weapons against Iran.  Setting aside for the moment the implications of that statement, simply consider the response of the elected representative body of the United States to it:  universal approval.  Everyone or virtually everyone in that hall stood up and applauded the threat to drop nuclear bombs on Iran.

But when the President immediately followed with the statement that peaceful resolution remains possible, only four or five people even offered a few claps of approval.  And when he concluded with the hope that Iran rejoin the international community, he was met with a silence deafening in its contrast to the standing ovation of just moments ago.

I am left wondering: would our world be different if our yearning for peace were as strong as our desire for war?  Would our world be different if we longed for peace with the same enthusiasm we bring to our force and threats of force?  Would our world be different if we understood peace to spring from strength and force from weakness?

Isn’t it past time to put peace at the center of the table?

I have to think so.

Loving the Likers

I love being ‘liked’ on Facebook.

Does that make me needy?  Maybe, although I don’t think so.

I just get a real sense of connection and affirmation when something I post gets liked by folks in the FB world.  I appreciate the shout out and expect that most folks are as busy as I am with other things, so even the millisecond it takes to click ‘like’ feels like a gift.

So to the author of the recent FB pass-around of the top ten FB ‘personalities’ (i.e., the one who never says anything, but always ‘likes’ everything - well, you get the idea), I have to say that I love those likers.

They let me know that they read the post even if they don’t have the time or energy to post a written response.  They make me smile.  And that’s a good thing.

So to all the likers out there, you’re good with me and I hope you’ll keep clicking away.