Discernment

dis·cern·ment (noun)

1. the ability to judge well.

2. (in Christian contexts) perception in the absence of judgment with a view to obtaining spiritual direction and understanding.  Google

The two are related, aren’t they?  For the Christian seeking God’s will in any given situation, one must be able to judge well (even in the absence of judgment) whether the understanding and direction received or indicated is, in fact, that of God.

Here, I do not mean so much God versus evil, however we may name it, so much as God’s direction and guiding versus my own inclinations, so easily substituted for God’s voice in my head.

When an idea percolates within me, is it God?  Or is it me?  The me idea isn’t necessarily bad, but it isn’t necessarily of God either.

It’s the distinction between the good and the best.

And given the dearth of burning-bush moments in my own life, it’s not always as easy to tell as one might think.

The journey towards discernment, at least for me, is a delicate thing.  It takes patience.  And time, so much time that the pace of the snail seems warp speed in comparison.

Until, that is, the clarity arrives.  When it does, suddenly there is no time; there is only moving forward along the path that in hindsight appears to have been there all along.

Between the two poles of waiting and acting, there, in that space, prayer is the only effective language I know.

Lord, in this precipice moment, one of perhaps so many before, or maybe it’s a new one – whichever, Lord, grant me the understanding You would have for me, the judgment to distinguish Your voice from so many others, including my own.  Help me in the not judging place to judge well.  Amen.

On Praying

I prayed with friends today.  We held hands in that unselfconscious way you do when you’ve done this before.  One voice blended into another and when we raised our heads after the last amen, all our eyes were leaking our tears.

The tears of prayer mostly take me by surprise, for they are not evidence of sadness, but of presence – God’s and mine – met in the wellspace of gathering – a grace, somehow, of the God who deigns to show up simply because hands are held and voices raised.

Why do I pray?  In the wish and hope that something will change or more, be changed, of course.  As an act of obedience – God said to and so I do.  Sometimes as an act of desperation, when all my own efforts have failed.  Sometimes as an act of gratitude, a pouring forth as joy oozes out of me.  To catch up with my best friend.

Mostly I pray because there is that thing in me which leans ever into the divine being, wishing to draw nearer, seek more, be more.

Whatever draws me to prayer in the first place, I leave it quieted.  Always.  In a good way, always.  I don’t know how God’s Spirit does that – quiets me – but she does.  And somehow, always, whatever the bringing need or desire, the quietening is my answer and it is enough and more than enough.

Amen.

Praying Another's Tears

gracious . . . glorious . . . groaning . . . God

collect her tears

in the bucket of Your love

water the garden

of her life

with them

that these tears be absorbed

into the fabric

of time and space

real and present

a life

yet

converted

by the power

of You

from pain and loss

to nourishment

growth

love

amen