Tag: Imagination

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The Journey Called Trust

by Katie Harmon-McLaughlin

“Give yourself, then, to this divine and infinite life, this mysterious cosmic activity in which you are immersed, of which you are born. Trust it. Let it surge in on you.”
Evelyn Underhill, Mysticism

The gift of disruption,
This angel visitation,
Will not be complete
In the same moment
It arrives.

Now we enter the longer part
Of the journey called
Trust
When everything has gone back to normal
But nothing has.
And we carry within us
Something we can’t yet name.

I search for an answer
Looking for the single key
To unlock the door to the future.
It will not come.

I’m as guilty as anyone,
Wanting to see where we are going,
Wanting the outcome to be some version
Of what I think I want it to be.

What is it exactly that I hope for?
What is the deepest, truest thing
That needs to continue or emerge?
How many forms might it take and
What forms might it already be taking?
Will I be present enough to see?

Can I trust the mystery of incarnation enough
To believe that the Holy is always
Coming into life in some new way?

On this long journey,
There is no bypassing
The necessary work
Of tending our inward spaces.
As long as we stay on the surface,
Surface will be all we see.
The invitation is to go deep
Into the dark unknown-
The cave, the womb, the starry night.

Temptations abound of
Avoidance and neglect,
Understandable because
Once you enter,
Nothing stays the same.

Halfway is no way.
Once trust is required
We either journey forward
Or we don’t.
Apathy and cynicism will try to get their way.
Don’t let them.
Healing is engagement.
Incarnation is embodiment.
We give ourselves over to our deep hope
And we are changed.

This fleeting visitation has meant something real
And it is coming to life in you.
Let it grow.
Trust what it will be
Even though you can’t yet see
Or maybe even imagine.
Give your whole self
To the trembling, awe-filled
YES that your heart
Has been yearning
To say.

Now we enter the longer part
Of the journey called
Trust.

Spiritual Practice: How are you invited to stay with the call of God in your life even when you can’t see where it will lead? Pray for steadiness of heart, deep trust, when uncertainty tempts you to abandon the journey.

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Advent Visitations: A Sacred Yes

by Katie Harmon-McLaughlin

This is where we begin. So easily we can get caught on what really happened and what did not, could not.

This is the question you are invited to ponder today:
How is this story still happening in your life, in the world?

28 And [the angel] came to her and said, “Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you.” 29 But she was much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be. 30 The angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. 31 And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus… 34 Mary said to the angel, “How can this be, since I am a virgin?” 35 The angel said to her, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called Son of God. 36 And now, your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son; and this is the sixth month for her who was said to be barren. 37 For nothing will be impossible with God.” 38 Then Mary said, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” Then the angel departed from her. 

(Luke 1:26-38, NRSV)

Allow this peculiar story at the heart of our journey to come to life in your imagination. Discover where you find yourself within it.

As the story unfolds within me, I have many questions. First, what was this scene like? Was this mid-day or mid-night? Was Mary busy about her daily tasks when interrupted or was she sitting still, poised receptive, as so many of the paintings depict? If you took her pulse during this encounter, would you be concerned about her heart rate? What was she thinking… and better yet, because thoughts probably at this point made no sense, what was she feeling? What was the strongest movement within her once the angel eased her fear? Was it curiosity? Desire? Awe? Confusion? Timidity? Terror? Wonder?

This encounter seems to happen in an instant. No instructions. No real explanation. Just a proclamation and a question- are you willing to be the bearer of God? Imagine yourself in her place. You have a second to choose. This angel before you will be gone as quickly as he came. But nothing can be normal from here.

Could you dare to utter the words, “Let it be with me according to your word”? Could you dare to even nod your head yes?

This is a story of the Holy birthed in unexpected places. A virgin. A barren older woman. An oppressed people. The deeper message beneath these images seems to be- even in seemingly lifeless places, God’s life can and will emerge. There is always reason for hope. This is a message we need.

What is also unexpected is Mary’s unlikely yes to this disruptive and largely unknown invitation. The whole story hinges upon Mary’s yes to God.

The thin moments between the angel arrival and departure, between the question and the answer, are the spaces that we can most relate to. This thin space occurs daily in each of our lives. Have you noticed? You may be about your daily tasks. You may be sitting still, poised receptive. You may be awakened in the middle of the night. You may be driving to work or shopping at the grocery store or walking down the halls at your school. Chances are, there is a proclamation somewhere of what is possible if you would but see. Chances are, God-With-Us is asking to be birthed in you, for the kingdom of God to be made real in whatever place you are in.

Are you willing to become the bearer of God? What yes is sitting on your heart, emerging despite the fear and trembling? Will you be surprised at yourself when you say it out loud?

The Angel words on repeat in your soul- “The Lord is with you. Do not be afraid.”

Spiritual Practice: Notice the thin spaces of angel visitation in your daily life. What sacred yes are you invited to say?

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The River

by Dustin Davis

One day I discover that deep inside my heart a river flows. So deep is this river that before I stumbled upon it – quite by accident mind you – I never knew it existed. Even as this river is new to me I can tell it is an ancient river, its banks carving out the landscape long before. What a delight to find such an unexpected surprise in what I thought was the well-mapped terrain of my heart!

Time and time again I return to the river. Its beauty is at times beyond comprehension or expression, and it seems enough to simply sit along the edge and take in the dazzling sight. So much of this river still remains a mystery. I don’t know its source or to where it stretches over the horizon. And what to name it? The River of Life, the Flow, the Living Water, the Force, the One…

I decide that I should build a place to live along the shore of this river, as majestic as it is. Who wouldn’t want to live amongst such scenery? Stone by stone I build my dwelling. It is hard work! When I grow tired from my labor I walk to the river to rest, to get a drink. How refreshing! Most times I return quickly to the task at hand, but sometimes I linger. “Drink of me and never thirst again,” the river quietly whispers, lapping at the shore.

My stone house grows very large. It has more rooms than I had originally planned. It appears impressive to some, though I never seem satisfied. Its walls are too high, and it’s hard to see the river outside because the windows are too small, too few. It does offer a certain level of shelter and comfort, but then what’s the point of living so near the river, I catch myself wondering.

There are times when I leave my house to marvel at the river. “Never thirst again,” it invites me. Drawn by its cool, healing waters, I actually wade into the river. It moves swiftly around me, the current gentle but strong. What a feeling to be part of the river, to be part of something more! I swim out from the shore and am caught in the current. I begin to flail and flounder. I can’t touch the riverbed below. Already I am swept down the river away from my house. I try desperately to swim upstream, fighting the current. In a matter of mere moments I am exhausted and gasping for breath. Finally, once I reach my familiar shore and my house, I pull myself from the river and collapse on the dry ground.

At night I sit and look at the river from inside my house. It sparkles in the moonlight, the stars reflecting on the smooth surface. It was exhilarating to be swept of my feet, but startling nonetheless. I have too many questions and not enough answers it seems. Should I risk going back in? I wonder. What if I am swept away for good? What if I end up so far down the river I can’t make it back? What will happen to my house that I’ve worked so hard to build? My lovely view of the river will be lost! Do the waters turn choppy? Are there rapids? A waterfall? I realize that I can’t control the river.

“Be still,” the water calls, and I go outside. Even though I can’t see where the river flows beyond the horizon I imagine it flowing where all rivers flow, to the ocean. My deepest longing is to float along the river, not fighting, not struggling, but riding the twists and the turns and the rapids. My deepest longing is to float in that Great Ocean at the end, held aloft by the buoyancy of the loving voice that assures me, “You are mine.”

I stick my feet back in the river.