"i have a Voice inside of me..."

"I have a voice,
simple and clear;
it speaks the Truth,
for all to hear..."

This afternoon someone posted Kinard Middle School's video of their student choir singing  "I Have a Voice." It moved me deeply.

It speaks to me of a prayer from my own faith tradition -- Christian Science. It is a short prayer that the founder of Christian Science, Mary Baker Eddy, included in The Manual of the Mother Church -- a document that helps members of her church self-govern. It is called "The Daily Prayer," -- and it reads:

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

This prayer is fundamental to my own spiritual practice. I don't just pray with it daily, but many times throughout the day. It it a prayer of guidance. And it is a prayer of promise.

This song, "I Have a Voice [here is a link to the Broadway Kids performance]"  affirms the last line in the Daily Prayer, which reads:

"...and may Thy Word
enrich the affections
of all mankind
and govern them."

Throughout the day, when I hear reports of contention, discord, or disappointment -- I return to this prayer. I trust its message. We all have this Voice speaking within ourselves. No one is left operating in a vacuum. This Voice guides us, corrects us, assures and comforts us. Nothing can silence it. No one can interfere with it, or take it from us.  I trust its presence.  I trust its power to reach each of us -- right where we are.  We only need to be still.  And in this stillness we hear the Voice - and know.  We just know.  We know what is good.  We know what is true.  We know what we love.

From the tiniest baby to the centenarian, we all have this Voice within us. My children and grandchildren have this voice speaking to them as they navigate college, work, school, home, sports. Our neighbors, colleagues, friends and world leaders have this same Voice speaking to them.

I trust this.

It gives me hope.

offered with Love,

Kate

"Your voice calls me..."

"Your voice
would rise above,
and carry me..."

Sometimes a song just won't let go. It steeps in the heart and stirs the soul. Kate Edmundson's  "A Voice,"has been one of those songs. If you were hoping for a new song today -- you might want to return later. Even though Kate's song was the keynote for a post earlier last week, it's still moving me.

The other day someone shared an excerpt from an interview with Parker Palmer. It took my breath away. How could I not have seen the connection between voice, hearing, vocation, and calling:

"Vocation does not come from willfulness.
It comes from listening.

That insight is hidden
in the word vocation itself,
which is rooted in the Latin for “voice.”

Vocation does not mean a goal I pursue.
It means a calling that I hear.
I must listen for the truths and values
at the heart of my own identity.”

Wow. Just wow. How often do we think that we are striving to make it in the world. That finding our vocation, and reaching our potential, is something that takes human effort. That we have to decide what we want to pursue, and then we have to throw ourselves into it.

The word vocation -- according to Webster -- means "a strong feeling of suitability for a particular career or occupation; a calling." Isn't this what we all want to feel? The strength of our suitability for a particular career, occupation (what we are occupied with) or calling?

But this isn't something we can search for in career guides or find in success-probability research polls. It is something we hear. But we don't hear it on the latest installment of Business News Nightly, or from a career counselor. We won't find it at a job fair, on LinkedIn, or in the pages of Forbes. We can only hear it in the deepest place - the place where Love speaks to our hearts. Paul refers to this "calling" in II Timothy:

"God hath saved us, and called us
with an holy calling, not according
to our works, but according to His own
purpose and grace,”

I love that. Not according to our works -- our efforts, our striving -- but according to his purpose and grace. I love the definition of grace that reads: "the unmerited and unearned favor of God." We are called into our holy purpose. We find it in the quiet space of listening for what is true and enduring in our hearts.  And sometimes, that calling may surprise us.

In referring to this calling, Mary Baker Eddy writes:

“We know that all things work together
for good to them that love God,
to them who are the called
according to His purpose.
What shall we then say to these things?
If God be for us, who can be against us?”

What a beautiful assurance. If we listen for our calling, and follow Love's behest in our hearts, who can be against us? Not even us. There is no self-sabatogue in the exercise of our calling. There is no resistance to our Love-impelled purpose. There is no sense of self-importance of self-doubt when we realize that this calling is not according to our works, but according to His own power and grace.

I will leave you with this passage from Eddy's earliest collection of published works, Miscellaneous Writings 1883 - 1896:

“We have nothing to fear
when Love is at the helm of thought,
but everything to enjoy
on earth and in heaven.”

When our vocation aligns with our calling -- there is a clear sense of purpose, there is joy. We can sustain this vocation for an eternity, because it is Love-impelled. We rise each morning with a sense of being given the gift of grace. And who wouldn't want to do what they love each day?


offered with Love,

Kate

"I listen to the Wind..."

"I listen to the wind,
to the wind of my soul.
Where I'll end up,
well, I think only God really knows..."

It's been forty-six years since I first ran my thumbnail down the edge of the cellophane on the Cat Steven's "Teaser and the Firecat" album that I'd gotten for my 17th birthday.

Within days I'd memorized every word. Within weeks my dad was threatening to break that album into a million pieces -- if my sister and I played it one more time.

Today, I can still listen to that album, and remember which song comes next.  I know the exact moment when the next track will start, and am able to anticipate the momentary pause in his voice -- during a poignant verse. "The Wind," is still my favorite song.  It's lyrics still leave me feeling both hungry and satisfied all at once.

I have asked myself so many times, "Why did he not want water -- even once? Why was not wanting water important? What was the devil's lake?"  There are some songs that it will take me a lifetime to understand. This is one of those songs. And yet, for all of its mystery -- and perhaps because of it -- I love this song.  Always have, always will.

Some songs reveal themselves in bits and pieces. About 25 years ago I had an experience that helped me gain some insight into this song, especially the line:

"I listen to my words,
but they fall far below..."  

Our daughter was about 4 years old. It was a snowy morning and I was in a hurry to get her to preschool before heading back to my office for a full day of calls and appointments. I buckled her into the passenger seat of our old car and came around to the driver's side.

When I say "old car," I mean really old car. We were a very young family with a very modest income. The car I was driving - although clean and reliable - was rusty, worn, and road weary. I'd patched the floor with cardboard, and the clutch pedal had lost its rubber pad.  

That morning, as I hurriedly pressed down on the clutch to start the car, the snow-covered sole of my shoe slipped off the pedal.  Its metal edge popped up suddenly and caught my ankle bone.  I heard -- and felt -- a sharp crack.  The pain was excruciating.

Our daughter loved to pray. She knew that this was what her mommy did for other people. She loved to sit at her little desk and pray for her dolls and her stuffed animals. But sometimes, she would also pray for her friends and our dog. 

In that moment - sitting in the silent car - I knew that I couldn't walk back into the house and call someone to help me. So I turned to our daughter, and asked her to pray for mommy.

Immediately she closed her eyes. Within seconds I realized that all of the pain was gone and I could freely move my ankle. I have to admit I was surprised at how instantaneously the situation changed.

I turned to our daughter and exclaimed that I'd been healed. Her expression said, "of course."  I thanked her, and asked, "When you were praying for mommy, what were you thinking?"

I will never forget her response -- or the look of exasperation on her face. It was as if she was repeating something to a child she'd been instructing, on the same subject, for years.  And I still hadn't gotten it. She said:

"Mommy,
when I pray
I don't think,
I listen."  

It literally took my breath away, and then it changed my sense of what it means to pray -- forever.

It also explained -- for me -- something Mary Baker Eddy writes on the first page of her primary work, Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, in the opening chapter, titled "Prayer":

"Prayer, watching and working,
are God's gracious means..."  

Prayer is not my means for reaching out to God. It is God's means for communicating Truth to human consciousness. Prayer is not my means for mentally rehearsing scripture, inspiration, or quotes. Prayer is God's means for reaching deep into my heart with His/Her Truth -- revealing whatever I need to know in, and about, any given situation.

My job was not to think, but to listen. To listen from a very deep place of humble surrender.  To listen with the childlike trust of a toddler attentive to her parent.

Earlier, in the Preface of Science and Health, Eddy states that:

"The human mind is not a factor
in the Principle of Christian Science..."
 

Silencing the human mind is a constant discipline. For over twenty-five years now, I have been humbly reminding myself that "to pray," is not to think, but to listen.  

The human mind so desperately wants to be a contributing factor, a collaborator, a partner with the divine.  It wants to believe that it can create a prayer.  That it can create an environment ripe for a miracle. Create a thought that will flip the switch on a situation.  Silly ego mind -- you are not a creator.  You are not a factor in the Principle of Christian Science -- the law of God. 

So, over and over again, throughout each day and long into the night, I arrest the human mind's desire to be heard.  I silence its running dialogue with itself.  And I quietly listen for the voice - the Word - of God to speak to human consciousness.  And where I end up -- where this listening will take my heart -- only God really knows.


offered with Love,

Kate