"be it far from thee Lord..."

"All my devotion,
and misguided loyalty;
swinging my sword
in the garden,
while you pray
for your enemies..."

A few years ago, I found a wonderful collection of contemporary Christian songs called, "The Story." I often find fresh perspective on Scriptural stories from them. Dan Haseltine and Matt Hammett's song,  "Empty"  was a beautiful compliment to my study of the Easter story this morning.

I was reading outside the lines -- beyond the citations of Scripture that were recommended for study -- and remembered an experience I had some years ago. The son we'd been in the process of adopting had been taken back by his birthmother and I was devastated. I hadn't held back in loving him. He had my heart. There were moments when I could step back and see the bigger spiritual picture, and they other times when I just felt empty.

Friends and family members were loving and supportive. Sometimes that support came in the guise of outrage at what we'd gone through. It was easy to slip into the arms of their commiseration and be assured that it just wasn't fair.  It wasn't fair -- we'd done everything "right," and now, here we were with an empty nursery and broken hearts. Their sympathy was comforting.

But one week, while considering the disciple Peter's career-trajectory - as one of Jesus' closest companions. I thought  about his eagerness, his persistence, and his bumpy road from fisherman to fisher of men. I discovered that two of the accounts appear back-to-back in the 16th chapter of Matthew's gospel:

"When Jesus came into the coasts of Cæsarea Philippi, he asked his disciples, saying, Whom do men say that I the Son of man am?

And they said, Some say that thou art John the Baptist: some, Elias; and others, Jeremias, or one of the prophets.

He saith unto them, But whom say ye that I am?

And Simon Peter answered and said, Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God.

And Jesus answered and said unto him, Blessed art thou, Simon Bar–jona: for flesh and blood hath not revealed it unto thee, but my Father which is in heaven. And I say also unto thee, That thou art Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church; and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it. And I will give unto thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt bind on earth shall be bound in heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven..."

and

"From that time forth began Jesus to shew unto his disciples, how that he must go unto Jerusalem, and suffer many things of the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and be raised again the third day.

Then Peter took him, and began to rebuke him, saying, Be it far from thee, Lord: this shall not be unto thee. But he turned, and said unto Peter, Get thee behind me, Satan: thou art an offence unto me: for thou savourest not the things that be of God, but those that be of men.

In the first instance, we have Peter identifying Jesus correctly as, "the Christ, the son of the living God," -- and then when he tries to defend Jesus, saying that it would be wrong for a man of such goodness as Jesus to be arrested and crucified, he is rebuked by his Master, and called "Satan."  Something about that story hit me like a cup of cold water -- being thrown in my face.

In the breadth of a heartbeat, I knew I could no longer accept the sympathy of those who loved me, as if I were a victim -- small, vulnerable, shattered, and broken. Oh yes, I was so very grateful for their love, and I could appreciate their intent, but I could no longer accept this version of my own story -- one that painted me as a casualty of someone else's choices, decisions, mistakes. It deprived me of my own God-sent journey. It was a denial of my right to see myself as whole, and to exchange a crucified sense of my mommy story - the cradle song and natal hour, for a resurrected sense of  genuine motherhood -- unmoved, unwavering, unshaken.

I believe that Jesus knew that for him to lean into Peter's "be it far from thee Lord," was to allow space for the breach -- the suggestion that for even one moment of his life, his story was out of God's supreme control. Peter's righteous indignation only soothed the personal ego -- it had no life in Christ.

Jesus doesn't call Pilate "Satan" -- nor the the priests who were behind his arrest, or Judas who led his captors to him. They were not the "problem." The real snake was the ego -- that which seeks to be defended.  The false narrative that would suggest that his life mission was a series of "whew, dodged another mortal bullet." These were the real enemy of the Christ -- his eternal manhood as God's own beloved son.

I can't even begin to tell you how many times this insight has blessed me in the ensuing 30 years. Whether it is my own self-sympathy when facing a challenge, or the well-intentioned "not you..." offered by a friend or loved one, it doesn't take long to remember that, as Mary Baker Eddy promises in Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, next to the marginal heading, "Uses of suffering":

"The sharp experiences of belief in the supposititious life of matter, as well as our disappointments and ceaseless woes, turn us like tired children to the arms of divine Love. Then we begin to learn Life in divine Science..."

I want to learn life in divine Science. If my disappointments and ceaseless woes are the beginning of a new lesson -- bring them on! I will try to receive them with the same clear sense and calm trust that Jesus teaches us.

Whenever I begin feeling sorry for myself, wondering "why" I am facing this problem or that challenge, I re-visit the chapter, "Atonement and Eucharist" in Eddy's Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures - again.  It always reminds me why I love being a scientist, and how grateful I am for each opportunity to deepen my trust in the law of Love within the laboratory of human experience.

This chapter of Jesus' story -- the neglect, betrayal, arrest, crucifixion -- was the ultimate platform for proving his love for his Father, his trust in God's care, and for modeling the love that triumphs over hate, despair, pain, and fear.

offered with Love,

Kate

"Lord, my life is an empty cup..."

"Lord my life is an empty cup.
Here's my heart,
would You fill me up?
I'm face to the ground,
forsaking my pride,
leaving my will,
my burdens behind.

All I want, all I need
is just to be with You,
just to be with You..."

Today, Paul Beloche's "Just to be with You," beautifully captures one not-all-that-long-ago morning's practice of "emptying the cup."

And recent conversations with close friends have helped me clarify (for myself) how critical this practice of releasing mental tightness...and expelling the toxins of the ego...is to being present and prepared for the day - to show up thirsty for a more refreshed sense of spiritual purpose, to arrive on the doorstep of dawn, with a clean cup...empty, ready and waiting for Him to fill me anew.

For instance, the other day I woke up with a wretched ego hangover from too much of "me" based thinking the night before. I'd allowed myself to fall asleep without establishing that my day really starts, Biblically with: "and the evening and the morning were the first day..." Starting from a proper sense of evening...clear understanding that my life proceeds from the peace and rest of a day well lived and redeemed...makes all the difference.

Mary Baker Eddy defines evening as:

EVENING.  Mistiness of mortal thought;
weariness of mortal mind; obscured views;
peace and rest.

I love this definition. I think it is brilliant that she, first, addresses all the ways that our sense of evening can be twisted and misrepresented by false perceptions that we are experiencing a total absence of light, and then "snap!" she points out the beauty of its, evening's, more subtle lighting and reclaims it all for God. 

I love the evening...no shadows of self to distract and impress...just a suffusive, softly radiant, reclaimed "peace and rest."  The light that is present is not as bright as "noonday"...much less blindingly dramatic, and brilliant...but for some reason I find it easier to get clear of "Kate" outlines when the light that is there, is more modest, somehow quieter and less direct.  In the twilight of "evening" I am conscious of a more graceful, less in the spotlight "me."

And in this space of "evening" I find myself resting upon, and proceeding from a real peace. A peace that "floweth as a river," rather than from all of Kate's decisions, choices, mistakes, plans and strategies. Evening begins with claiming my right to see myself as God-sent into each moment with a holy purpose. The details of what happened, who said what to whom, how it all went down, and the outcomes, results, successes, and failures of the day...are of no consequence when I realize that God has given me countless opportunites throughout that day, to discover more about who I am as His beloved child, Her divinely radiant reflection.

But back to this particular morning. As soon as I woke up, I realized that I'd gone to bed steeped, not in a peaceful sense of evening, but in the darkness of a long, starless night. And as I'd slid into the black chasm of night's total darkness, I'd been hoping to escape physical and emotional exhaustion. I'd felt as if all my resources had been drained by the demands of the day, every mental muscle strained, every ounce of emotional poise stripped...and I was seeing myself through the lens of a very limited range of motion and focal distance.

And I felt it.  I felt it in every cell of my being.  So, what did I need to do. 

I needed to establish a proper sense of "morning":

MORNING. Light; symbol of Truth;
revelation and progress.

Ahh, light, revelation, and progress! 

First, light.  I stretched.  I let the light, which is at the center of my being, radiate out from a fully extended heart. I imagined each mental molecule inhaling to the point of expanding its "skin," it's membrane, so that when it exhales, all the toxins of "the ego" are released.

Second, revelation.  I wrote.  I let every thought...and I mean every thought...be revealed, exposed, run wildly naked, falling exhausted onto the open, empty page. I wasn't impressed by any of it. The cycle of self-justification and regret that seemed so overwhelming in the dark, secret place of the ego, was clearly not "my thinking" when exposed to the light of Truth...my unbroken relationship with the divine...that "indissoluable spiritual link" which establishes me in the likeness of my Maker.

Third, progress.  To progress, we need to make progress...to move forward.  I love the active sense of this word as a verb. To step into the next moment with purpose, hand-in-hand with God -- with Love -- is to step away from the darkness of the night before. Just knowing that I can always find a proper sense of evening...day-by-day and moment-by-moment....is to feel the joy of standing before God as an empty cup, a challis, the holy grail, waiting for "the inspiration of Love."

Dear divine Love, I am yours...waiting to be filled, each moment...

...with Your Love,
Kate
Kate Robertson, CS