"My hands are holding you..."

"I'll be
by your side
wherever you've fallen,

in the dead of night,
whenever you're calling;

please don't fight,
these Hands
that are holding you..."

It's been a long time since I've listened to Tenth Avenue North. But this morning it was their,  "By Your Side,"  that inspired me. Another mass shooting, another tragic "natural disaster," -- and my heart was reaching out for something to hold on to. And Tenth Avenue North came through with the reminder, that I don't need to hold on to God -- His hands are holding me, and mine, and all.

Sometimes, we hear a horrifying story of mayhem or loss, and we almost feel like we can't process it. It's too big. It makes us feel vulnerable and shakes our sense of personal peace. We send our love and prayers. But the human mind itself is incapable of knowing how to "think" about it all. So it doesn't. It files it away for "later."

I remember once hearing an NPR [National Public Radio] interview with a social anthropologist, one afternoon while inching my way through rush hour traffic. She was explaining the phenomenon of an entire country rallying to support a single family facing a devastating loss, while almost ignoring the plight of millions of refugee families facing famine in Africa - where thousands of children were dying of starvation each day.

She explained that this grief was too massive for the human mind to process. So it looked for something it could actually feel empowered to do something about -- a single family felt "doable." Hundreds of thousands did not. So in order to not "go mad" by the breadth of the grief, the human mind sets aside what it cannot process. I got it.

But this explanation still didn't answer my own heart-wrenching question -- how can I turn away from photos and reports of starving families? What can I do? How can I pray? It did feel like "too much," -- because it was. At least it was for the human mind.

Tenth Avenue North's song this morning was just the reminder I needed to get back on track in responding to each and every tragic report of fear, pain, lack, disaster, and loss. To see that each individual -- from the starving Syrian refugee, to the corruption-enticed Wall Street trader [who so afraid of loss that he would even consider compromises his integrity] as held by God. Held in comfort, and held in check.

Again and again, I go back to this "Daily Prayer," by Mary Baker Eddy:

"Thy kingdom come
let the reign
of divine Truth, Life, and Love
be established in me,
and rule out of me all sin,
and may Thy Word
enrich the affections
of all mankind
and govern them."

This is my prayer throughout the day. This is my prayer when I am awaken in the night. This is the prayer that springs immediately into the space of every question.  It is my prayer for myself, and for "all mankind."

I know that it was this "Daily Prayer," has been my prayer in the darkest hours of my life -- whether during an attempted assault, or facing the loss of a child. To know this prayer intimately, was to know peace.  It strengthened my core confidence in knowing that the affections of the man who had threatened my innocence were being governed by the Word of God. And that this Voice had been speaking directly to his heart, causing him to self-arrest his behavior.  

To feel this prayer in an hour of loss, was to feel the Father's love for us - and for our child. To actually feel that this love was eternal; not validated by time, or space, or form of family. Untouched by sin [separation] and established in Soul.

Because I have felt held by the Word of God -- when I least expected it - I am able to know - with all my being - that this same presence is filling the consciousness of every man, woman, child, and creature in all of creation.

Because I have felt this Love shift my behavior, guide my actions, purify my motives, and heal my wounds -- I know it is at work in each human heart. This divine presence is stilling all conflict. It speaks in every language. Wherever we are, whatever we seem to be going through - alone, or in the midst of thousands - we are held.

This prayer has been the voice of God -- holding me, healing me, correcting me, encouraging me -- and mine, and all.


offered with Love,

Cate 

"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