"I shall not want…"

"From a need to be understood,
from a need to be accepted,
from a fear of being lonely,
deliver me, O God..."

It was long before dawn, when I woke with this one truth, "I shall not want…"

It came before sentience. It came in the space of a silence deeper than "no sound." It came as conscious existence. It was not thought, but known. And it brought with it a feeling of being deeply satisfied.

I let my heart steep in it for a very long time. It felt like the purest truth I had ever known.

When I finally rose to greet the day it refused to be put aside for other thoughts and concerns.

After a few hours, I opened my computer and launched my browser. Going to Youtube, I typed in "I shall not want," and this beautiful song by Audrey Assad, "I Shall Not Want," brought me to tears. It spoke to every feeling I'd experienced in the stillness of that early morning.

As I stood on the back deck watching the first migrating birds arrive on our lake, I was reminded of Jesus' encouragement to:

"Behold the fowls of the air,
for they sow not,
neither do they reap,
nor gather into barns;
yet your heavenly Father
feedeth them." 

What tender care for the human heart. That morning, I didn't need food, or clothing, or shelter. I needed ideas that would inspire, spiritual facts that transcend the evidence of the senses. I needed the gifts of grace, the compassion that heals, and the mercy of a loving Parent.

On the heels of that sweet avian reminder, I heard this promise from Romans:

"O the depth of the riches
both of the wisdom
and knowledge of God!

How unsearchable
are his judgments,
and his ways
past finding out!"
 

I didn't need to "want" a knowledge of Him, or His wisdom.  It was not something to be searched for - and found. It was not something I lacked, and needed to go hunting for.  It was mine by simple reflection -- in stillness.

And so I did just what Jesus suggested. I watched the fowls of the air. They circled the lake, and then flew directly into the stillness of the water.  All that they needed lay just beneath the clear surface -- and it was immediately evident and available to each of them from that vantage point. They weren't landing thoughtlessly and then digging around -- stirring up surface and muddying the waters.

It occurred to me how often my frantic "searching" had muddied my own spiritual clear-sightedness.

But when I stand still -- nevertheless -- in the simplicity of one simple spiritual fact, such as: "God is All-in-all," and I allow that Truth to inform every other question or concern -- there is no want.

My freedom from want comes, not from what I think I know about my circumstances and resources, but from what I know to be true about God -- our divine Source. There is no want, because there is no lack in the Allness of All. Where there is no absence of God, there is no absence of good.  Realizing this one fact, I am consciously holding good in my experience - immediately.

In the All-in-allness of Mind, there is no lack of wisdom -- in anyone. In the All-in-allness of Love, there is no lack of acceptance. In the All-in-allness of Life, there is no loneliness or loss. In the All-in-allness of Truth, there is no dishonesty or misunderstanding. 

 In the All-in-allness of Soul, there is only beauty, peace, and the discernment of truth. In the All-in-allness of Principle, we can only experience the ever-presence of balance, order, and fairness. And in the All-in-allness of Spirit, we trustingly yield to the one divine Source of all motivation, intention and action.

Filled with an abiding conviction that our divine Parent loves and cares for us, we are playful. The "future," is not something to worry about, but is a divine surprise unfolding right before our eyes from an unfathomable well of goodness. And we are free from the finite wants, which will always fall short of His more abundant, infinite plan for us.

I think of the young King David, the Psalmist, who wrote those words, "I shall not want." His own path from ambitious self-volition to childlike trust was lovingly chronicled for us in Scripture. I am humbled beyond measure by his courage and honesty. What a journey of grace.

And since all fear has it's basis in the supposition: "what if God is absent," to be free of lack-based want is to be delivered from fear. To be free of want is to dwell in the spaciousness of God's immanence. To be free of want, is to rest our hopes in His eternal kingdom. A kingdom of still waters, tender mercies, and amazing grace.


offered with Love,

Kate

"You know me..."

"From the fall of my heart
to the resurrection of my soul
You know me, God, and You know my ways

In my rising up, and my sitting down
You see me as I am,
oh, see me as I am

As I will be in the morning
In the evening as I am
You have known me....”

There’s something about Audrey Assad’s "Known," that felt like a benediction on last week. It was a week that started out pretty rocky.

Easter Sunday, although dawning cloudless, sweet with the scent of hyacinths, and full of promise, had a very special journey in store for me. A series of small "events" shook my spiritual ground, and It didn’t take long before Easter's overarching story of prophecy, betrayal, denial, hope, redemption, and resurrection to drove me to my knees.

I wept through almost every element of an inspired and humbly-served worship gathering. Each citation of scripture, hymn, and prayer seemed to push me towards another moment of profound self-examination.

I listened on mental knees wondering, “Could I have stood beside him as he faced his accusers...or would I have denied him thrice?” “Would I have been able to watch his agony on the cross...or would I have retreated to a hidden room?” “Would I have been able to withstand the hatred of his ministry, endured the despair of rejection, overcome my own fear of arrest and crucifixion?” "Would I have turned and run at the approach of soldiers...or turned to heal my captor's wounds?" “Would I have believed the women when they ran to tell me, ‘he is risen...or denied the messengers he'd appointed, along with my Saviour?”

Something in me ached to know, to really know, if I was the kind of disciple I so hoped I would have been.

I walked through the first part of the week on tender feelings of uncertainty. I tossed and turned through long nights of self-doubt. “Would I have stayed awake at Gethsemane?” “If my role, in the greater crucifixion/resurrection story had been that of Judas, could I have faced my Father’s plan with grace...or would the ego have cried out, "not me Lord, I want to be the hero..."

Over and over again, the longing to “know” what kind of disciple I would have been, pierced the normal rhythm of my life.

Then, the other night, about four in the morning, I was led to completely stop that line of questioning, and ask, “What does God know about me, and my discipleship?” And I realized, this was the only question that ever really mattered.

My Father knows my every single thought, my every desire, hope, and longing...because they all come from Him. I am not a creator. He is. I can’t even create a wish, a dream, a prayer, or a desire. He is creating all that has meaning, and he is creating...moment-by-moment...the only truth of my life's story. He alone is writing my script, casting my role, feeding me my lines. And I can trust that what He knows about me, is exactly who I am...and, in fact, it is all that I am or ever will be. I am not capable of being a rogue character...or disciple.

I don’t have to be Peter, or John, or Judas, or Mary...they were. I just have to be me. That is enough. To be honestly, genuinely, authentically, purely me is all that He asks. It is exactly what He wants from me, and for me. My week “in the garden” was full of tears...but I did remain awake. And for this, I am deeply grateful.

It is good, to be known...by Him.

have a wonderful week.

with Love,

Kate

"Restless...'til I rest in You..."

"Still my heart, hold me close
Let me hear a still, small voice
Let it grow, let it rise
Into a shout, into a cry..."

And I am restless, I'm restless
'Til I rest in You, let me rest in You
and I am restless, so restless
'Til I rest in You, 'til I rest in You
Oh God, let me rest in You..."

Maria sent me this link to Audrey Assad's "Restless," knowing it would resonate with something profoundly familiar in me.  Thanks Maria.  It did, and it does. 

I love the word "rest."  It's been a favorite spiritual concept for some time now.  Mary Baker Eddy uses it in a way that has brought it's practicality to life for me.  She says, in her definition of "church" from the Glossary of Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures:

"Whatever rests upon and proceeds from divine Principle..."

I love this.  So often we think of rest, as something we do when we need to get some distance or "down time" from an exhausting activity or a demanding day.  But, for me, this definition encourages to consider rest in a new light.  To rest upon, rather than from.  To rest upon what we have proven.  To rest upon what we have seen, observed, witnessed of God's  goodness throughout the day.  To rest upon what we know of God's nature and character.   To rest upon the presence of all that we love, instead of from what we wish to avoid. 

This has been a spiritual lens on "rest" that I have returned to, over and over again, throughout my week.  Just knowing  that I can rest every case upon the foundational Principle of God's Allness-in-all, before proceeding on to the next activity, call, demand, is a promise that brings a deep sense of peace.

So, you can imagine my delight in discovering that Audrey Assad's song, "Restless," gives me yet another way to think about the word, "rest."   What fun, to redeem any sense of restlessness...of mind, body, spirit...as the desire, the divine call, the inner longing to rest in His love, in His all-embracing care, His all-knowing wisdom, His strong hands ...wow.  My restlessness will never be alarming to me again.  But neither will it be a cue, an urging to pick up and go searching for "just the right place."   Spiritual restlesness is not stilled by finally finding a person, place, or thing to put all of our hopes, dreams, and desire into.   The restlessness that is a cry from within for true rest, will only be satisfied by reaching for the stillness of His presence. It is the presence of Mind that, I believe, Eddy is referring to when she writes:

"conscious worth satisfies the hungry heart,
and nothing else can..."

What a satisfying place in which to still my restlessness.  In this place we...mothers, fathers, and children... really can "find our home, and heavenly rest."   I will leave you with the full context of Eddy's statement, below...and the link to Audrey's song, "Restless."

rest sweetly...in and upon...His Love,
Kate


From Mary Baker Eddy's Message to the Mother Church 1902 (page 17: 17 - 1):

"It is wise to be willing to wait on God, and to be wiser than serpents; to hate no man, to love one's enemies, and to square accounts with each passing hour.  Then thy gain outlives the sun, for the sun shines but to show man the beauty of holiness and the wealth of love.  Happiness consists in being and in doing good; only what God gives, and what we give ourselves and others through His tenure, confers happiness:  conscious worth satisfies the hungry heart, and nothing else can. Consult thy everyday life; take its answer as to thy aims, motives, fondest purposes, and this oracle of years will put to flight all care for the world's soft flattery or its frown. Patience and resignation are the pillars of peace that, like the sun beneath the horizon, cheer the heart susceptible of light with promised joy."

This post also references Eddy's poem "Mother's Evening Prayer," which ends with the line, "and mother finds her home and heavenly rest."   Enjoy this link to The Solo Committee's recording of this lovely poem, set to inspiring music.