'Breath of Heaven"

"...Do you wonder
As you watch my face
If a wiser one, should have had my place
But I offer-all I am
For the mercy-of your plan
Help me be strong
Help me be
Help me...

Breath of Heaven
Hold me together
Be forever near me
Breath of Heaven..."
- Amy Grant

As we move into this Christmas season, it just seems so important to keep in mind what we are really celebrating,  and how relevant it is in our lives today.  To celebrate the birth of a baby in a manger, without an appreciation for  his mother's journey towards that manger...and where it would lead us all...would be heartbreaking to me. 

"Breath of Heaven," was written by Amy Grant, but the version sung by Sara Groves, tears me apart.  The clip in the first link is Amy's performance and the video sticks to the nativity story, but the second video, paired with Sara's extraordinary recording, although a bit rough and dramatic, underscores the human passion and pathos of the larger story.  Both are moving.  I love them each for different reasons.  I do think that Sara's vocals are as hauntingly beautiful in this context, as Barber's Adagio for Strings is in the context of the crucifixion...but that's another post.

I had been listening to these recordings before church tonight, and after the service, I was talking with a friend about our work as spiritual healers...care-givers, practitioners, nurses, hymn singers, writers, painters, and prophets...those who hope to bless the human family with "crumbs of comfort from Christ's table, be it with song, sermon, or science."  And I realized, that every day, in our own way, we live this story.  We are surprised by the humble privilege of this holy work.  We know that we never could have chosen this path for ourselves, but are gratitude-sent into a life of service to our Father-Mother God by a holy calling. 

I don't know one spiritual healer who thinks he, or she, is "all that." Not one that enters this work through the portal of pride, self-certainty, or ambition. It is a deep hunger to serve Him that sings through our hearts. And the lovely, humbling truth is, that we know, with all our being, that anyone, and everyone, can do this work.  The fullness of love required to see the Christ in another, is deeply rooted in every man, woman and child.  Devoting our lives to this work, we, like Mary and Joseph, sleep with angels who whisper a calling, and a promise, in the dark.  And upon awakening, we must be willing, every day, to open ourselves to the birth of something fresh, unexpected, and deeply moving within our hearts.  We are asked by our divine Employer to surrender the body of our lives to His purpose for us. 

Like that young couple, we walk through the desert of human hopes (usually our own), to find that there is little room for us in the busy-ness of a "world as cold as ice," a village that measures worth by the hierarchy of accomplishment, accumulation, and acclaim. We turn from its beckoning doorway and search out the silent welcome of a manger, and in its humble, simple, stillness something new, and healing, and transformative is born in us.  Angels hover and kings kneel before this babe of Christian healing.  And we are amazed that we are there...among wise men and shepherds...to witness the advent of His gift "on earth peace, good will to men," and the gospel message of, "The kingdom of heaven is within you."

This happens over and over again in the life of a spiritual healer...every spiritual healer.  Our work demands a manger...not a busy inn, a charming bed & breakfast, or a sophisticated hotel.  Our music is the simple song of angels...hymns, gospels, lullabies, rather than an exclusive black-tie performance.  Our companions are publicans and sinners.  Our highest vantage point is not found in looking out from a throne, a pedestal, or a penthouse...but the lonely summit of a cross.   We are most grounded and stable when we are on our knees...washing feet, praying, looking up into the eyes and hearts of our neighbors, not down at them.  We rest most peacefully surrounded by lambs and doves, straw and starlight.  We are manger dwellers.

On the final page of her autobiography, Retrospection and Introspection, at the end of the chapter, "Waymarks," poet, speaker, reformer, teacher, discoverer, founder of Christian Science, and most importantly, spiritual healer,  Mary Baker Eddy concludes,

"In this period and the forthcoming centuries, watered by dews of divine Science, this "tree of life" will blossom into greater freedom, and its leaves will be "for the healing of the nations."

                      Ask God to give thee skill
                          In comfort's art:
                    That thou may'st consecrated be
                          And set apart
                        Unto a life of sympathy. 
                    For heavy is the weight of ill
                          In every heart;
                      And comforters  are needed much
                        Of Christlike touch. 
                                                          — A. E. HAMILTON

This is how she chose to close the last chapter of her autobiography...with a call to fellow healers.  And many who have been immeasurably blessed, healed, and transformed by God's love, have gratefully answered that call.  I am honored to work among such humble servants of the Most High.  I love you, dear colleagues...I am amazed by your selflessness, moved by your example, touched by your compassion, and encouraged by your lives of self-surrender, availability, and grace. 

In your company I hear the song of angels and the lullabies of that mother-love in each of you, singing "low, sad, and sweet" as you lift up the Christ child in every man, woman and child...each moment, of every day and night...you are my heroes. 

I am honored to be manger-watching with you tonight....
Kate
Kate Robertson, CS

[photo credit:  Ashley Bay 2009]

"our meek and bold Defender..."

"for God is all, and Christ the way;
our meek and bold Defender,
has cleft the night and lo, the day
bursts forth in might splendor..."
L.C.Nourse

I had always wanted to be an attorney. A civil liberties attorney to be specific. I wanted to argue cases in defense of human rights and social justice.  I wanted to stand with those who were facing intimidation and persecution -- before a judge, and a jury of their peers.

Don't get me wrong, teaching school, book and media publishing, practicing spiritual healing, and volunteering in my community, were all wonderful chapters in my life story, but someday - sigh.  Yes, someday I would graduate from law school, take the bar exam, and hang my shingle. I couldn't imagine anything more fulfilling than defending the innocent, and defeating injustice.

Of course, there was no question -- I would continue practicing spiritual healing part-time -- weekends and evenings. Hadn't I always held more than one job?   This chapter would be no different.

Everything seemed poised for finally entertaining this dream a few decades ago. I was between secondary careers. I thought I finally had it all figured out.  I would shift my practice of spiritual healing to a more part-time schedule.  A schedule that would blend with the demands of law school.

Having passed the LSATs, I found a law school within a reasonable commute of our home.  I filled out the application, and was accepted.  All I needed to do was send in the enrollment deposit - which would hold my place while I sought financial aid, loans, scholarships, grants, etc.  I was ready to do whatever it took. But that's right where God jumped in and stopped me in my tracks.

It was a clear, crisp winter day. I had spent the morning studying Scripture, praying for clear direction, and listening for inspiration. It seemed as if the way was clear for taking the next step. I pulled my checkbook from the desk drawer, wrote the modest deposit check to the University for what - at the time - seemed to be so much more than we could afford.  I popped it in the pre-addressed envelope, and pulled on my jacket before heading down the stairs.  I almost out the door and on my way to the post office. It was just a baby step, but I was ready to take it.

As I headed down the long flight of stairs - from our loft to the street level entrance of our building - an inner voice suggested, "Why don't you look up the word "Comforter" in Strong's Bible Concordance before you leave?"

In my Bible study that morning there had been a citation that included a reference to the promised "Comforter." As I'd read it, it had occured to me that I had never really gotten a solid sense of the word's meaning in the original language - as it related to the context of Jesus' message.

At the time, I had been too busy thinking about law school, and whether we could afford for me to write that deposit check. Much too busy in my listening for direction, to stop and grab the concordance off the shelf. I'd do it later. And here it was, later. But now I needed to get to the post office, or I might never - again - have the confidence to even begin thinking that I deserved to live out this dream.

As I continued down the stairs, and placed my hand on the doorknob, it was as if someone had wired that doorknob with an electrical current. As I grabbed it, the voice came again. And this time, it was so forceful that it seemed almost audible, "Go look up the word Comforter!" Well, I may be headstrong, but I am not disobedient.

I sprinted up the stairs.  Now in a hurry to do what I was being strongly urged to do -- since I still needed to get to the post office before the end of the day so that the deposit would reach the University before the deadline. So, I pulled the heavy volume off the shelf, quickly finding the related Hebrew, Greek, and Aramaic definitions of the word "Comforter."

As my eyes fell on the last definition, I almost gasped. It read, "counsel for the defense". I sat back, heavily, in my chair, and folded my hands in my lap. A stillness descended over my shoulders like a soft mantle of clarity and peace.

"This is the kind of Law I really want to practice," I thought. "This is the Law I believe in and love. I can work in this Law office forever."

I could see that God, divine Love was the only Law. And that the Christ was the Comforter, -- the "counsel for the defense." I could be working for this law office from that day forward. From then on, my spiritual practice was no longer modeled after a healthcare provider/clinic, but a law firm -- no longer therapeutic, but constitutional.

It was easy to set aside my dream-practice with the American Civil Liberties Union. For me, this was the ultimate practice of defending human rights. This would be like clerking for the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court. And yes, I knew there would be moments when I would be the receptionist, then the stenographer, the bookkeeper, the public relations liaison, the office janitor, the law clerk - with her head buried in the law library. But I also knew that the Christ would always be the head of the firm -- the one and only Chief Counsel.

As I looked at the books lying open on my desk that day -- the Bible and Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures by Mary Baker Eddy -- I realized that I had a complete law library sitting right in front of me. The Bible gave me a complete and comprehensive resume of precedent setting cases to cite in the court of Spirit. And Science and Health told me how to write a brief -- a treatment, in defense of man's inalienable spiritual right to freedom from sin, sickness and death.

Years earlier, I had taken two weeks of class-instruction with an experienced and wise "law professor," a teacher of Christian Science. This "law school," had fully prepared me for hanging my shingle. I would work for the one, and only, original Public Defender.

I never sent that check to the University. And I have never regretted it. I committed my life to an unwavering career in spiritual law, from that day forward.

In the ensuing decades, I have enjoyed a rich and satisfying career in this practice of spiritual Law. Each client who has crossed the threshold of this office has had the benefit of being lovingly cared for by our Chief Counsel - divine Truth and Love. As the receptionist I hope that I have received each client warmly and with grace. As His paralegal, I have taken careful notes that I could go over with Him, in prayerful consultation in His chambers. As His law clerk, I have never found the Bible wanting, as I searched for a precendent-setting cases to cite to when defending our client's divine rights in the courtroom of Spirit. As His billing clerk -- well, I am still learning much -- as this is the job that I have struggled with most.

I love this office. I have a great boss who cares for His clients' spiritual liberties with a Father-like devotion to justice, and a Mother-like perseverence in defense of Her children's divine rights. I serve a Chief Justice who never leaves anyone languishing in prison because of an unjust sentence. And even when a harsh sentence might seems reasonable, He lovingly reminds us all that justice is always "the handmaid of mercy."

So, it's back to work.


with Love,


Kate Robertson, CS - Esq.
Kate

"Let God be the hero in your story"

"…It might have appeared to go unnoticed,
but I've got it all here in my heart.
I want you to know I know the truth,
of course I know it.
I would be nothing without you.

Did you ever know that you're my hero?
You're everything I wish I could be.
I could fly higher than an eagle,
for you are the wind beneath my wings…."
- Henley/ Silbar

Last week I was reminded of an epiphany I had at camp years ago.  This recent reminder came as a gentle, but firm, rebuke. 

And of course, it started with a song.  No surprise I'm sure.  Whenever I've heard the lyrics to Bette Midler's "Wind Beneath My Wings" in the past, one of two things came to mind.  Either I thought about it in reference to someone (or even something) in my life - a friend, loved one, parent, sibling, a particular organization, perspective or system – who had been there for me…who had made a difference at one time or another…in my story.  Or, I am embarrassed to say, I thought about how much I wanted to really live my life in a way – nobly, courageously, generously – that would allow me to be "the wind beneath" someone else's wings.

I know…sad…but true.  I am a bit slow on the uptake sometimes! Now it's been quite a few years since I've thought about this song…I don't listen to soft-rock radio, haven't been to a wedding reception with a live cover band, and "Beaches" hasn't been on the late night movie channel…or at least I haven't had the opportunity to know about it. 

But that said, I don't know that I would have heard it any differently....  

That is, until last week when the thought came, out of the blue,  "Let God be the hero in your story…in fact, Let God be the hero in everyone's story." Now, Susan Dane, in her book "When All Systems Fail" says, "In the movies, we get to be the heroes. But in the story of spirituality, God does." However, this wasn't what God said to me last week, His angels simply whispered the above, "Let God be the Hero in your story, in fact, let God be the Hero in everyone's story."

Hmmm…right up until that moment I thought I was doing just that. But I have long-since learned that I can always do better at surrendering my own sense of having "accomplished" something. So I stopped in my tracks and actually pondered the message with an open heart. And in that space of hungering for something fresh and new, like opening the windows in a stuffy room and having the winds of Sprit blow through clearing out the cobwebs, I was reminded of an experience I had almost 20 years earlier at camp.  I was there for counselor "training school," as well as a couple of youth sessions that year, and had the opportunity to participate in some of the training workshops. 

One was a session on low-impact camping that my friend Mark James was giving.  It was all about "leave no footprints"…meaning, as much as possible leave as little of yourself on the trail as is humanly possible.  Take out your trash, disturb as little ground, return to civilization having left the forest as you found it. 

As a spiritual healer this became my model for being invited into someone's "life" and being asked to give treatment.  I wanted to go in, when invited, give treatment, and tiptoe out…without leaving any of "me" behind.  This meant that I talked as little as possible…and listened more...to God...and to the patient.  It was my job to point out God's constant, still (never-the-less) presence in their lives, and turn their gaze in that direction…instead of looking at me.  That I would leave "without a trace" of Kate. 

I love that God sends us angel reminders to keep us honest in this work.  It's always such a bittersweet joy to be reminded that we can do better. And if you know my relationship to chocolate...I'm all about bittersweet.  And this angel message was just that a reminder to "do better."  

"Let God be the hero in their story" was such a gentle way for God to hold my hand in this work, and coincides, for me, with the story of Jesus healing of the woman with an infirmity.  The Bible reports that "immediately she was made straight, and glorified God."  Some years ago, I looked up the word "immediate" and it said "without medium."  This made such sense to me in light of my desire for a "low impact camping" approach to spiritual healing.  That Jesus healed without being the medium for the person's relationship to God was so clear in light of his gospel message, "The kingdom of God is within you."  It also made perfect sense to me that following the healing, they would glorify God…not Jesus.  He had already tiptoed backwards out of the clearing like a Indian maiden in deerskin moccasins…not even a dry leaf crackling under foot. 

Couldn't this also be, I asked myself,  what he meant when he is reported as having said, "The Son can do nothing of himself, but what he seeth the Father do…"?

For me, that is my job…to see what the Father is doing.  It's like walking into a room full of people (or even just one person) and not saying a word, but staring at a beautiful painting on the wall.  Eventually, one by one, everyone starts looking at that same painting.  My job is to go in and just transfix my gaze on the presence of God that I am sure is there in (and as) someone's life.  The "first faint morning beam" of goodness, affection, grace, strength, purity…that is always present.  And patiently wait while their "eyes" focus on that same presence of God with gratitude and appreciation.  And when we appreciate something (are grateful for it, recognize and give thanks for it's worth in our lives…however faint a glimpse it might be) it appreciates (grows in value…like your money in an interest bearing account…or the value in your home when it appreciates). 

Once they are focused on the already presence of God, good in their lives…and they see it appreciate to the full-noon of a risen day (the complete sun was always there) I can tiptoe out the door and leave them transfixed on God….or as is says in the Bible, "glorifying the God of Israel."

This was particularly helpful the other night when I did something careless and injured myself quite severely. I was quick to make myself the villain in my story. I had been in a hurry, not paying attention, you know how it goes. But in a moment rife with self-rebuke the thought came again, "Let God be the Hero in your story." I was at first puzzled, I wasn't even thinking about a hero. But then I realized that what I had been thinking about was me as a careless villain. I had also assigned myself the role of being someone who either needed to find a hero to make it better, or become a hero in my own story by praying more effectively. Once again, that angel reminder stopped me cold. Ahh, God was always present in my life as the only hero, the only Mind controlling my thoughts, motives, and actions...and there were no villains. Even my silly self. Within moments of that thought I became more peaceful...and found my first moment of freedom from the extreme discomfort I had been experiencing. And right on the heels of this realization, my husband arrived on the scene. He expressed such a calm, gentle love and was so patient in helping me care for the injury. I think it was very clear to us both that he was not the Superhero, but a great sidekick...a great witness to what the real Superhero was doing all along. I slept pain-free and peacefully that night and by the next morning I was moving freely.

So…I have been gently rebuked, carefully reminded, and am deeply grateful.  It is a joy to let God be the hero in my story…and in everyone else's story too.

"Did you ever know that you're my hero?
You're everything I wish I could be.
I could fly higher than an eagle,
for you are the wind beneath my wings…."

with love for the Hero in everyone's story...
Kate