"catching the unseen..."

"and He will raise you up

on eagle's wings..." 

Watching a lone eagle this afternoon reminded me of how it feels to settle in to the place of prayer - listening for God's voice to lift me higher.  An eagle doesn't just sit on the edge of a branch or a cliff, with her wings tucked -- waiting for the thermal to lift her up.  There is a moment of reciprocity.  A moment when she lifts her wings and steps off into what cannot be seen, but is felt.  It is as real for her, as the granite beneath her talons.

Once there is this moment of connection -- the opening of her wings and stepping forward, uniting with the ever-present current of air (or thermal) she catches -- there is flight. There is a choreography that cannot exist without this unity.  The thermal cannot be seen without the form of the eagle to give it visibility, and the eagle is motionless without the invisible current that lifts her.

I love this relational aspect of prayer.  Yes, God is ever-present and always speaking, guiding, directing, protecting us -- and for this I am so forever grateful. But there is something so beautiful, and sweet, and powerful about the "dance" of opening my heart, and stepping into the "presence" -- of actively listening.  This is not a petitioning, but a celebration of Soul.  It is song, and dance, and poetry. It is the marriage of lyric with melody and movement. It is pure and refreshing.  It is both comforting and inviting. 

This kind of prayer isn't asking for anything. For why should we need to ask,  when our all-powerful, Father-Mother God already knows all -- and loves us, so much. This prayer wants nothing but to be one -- to dance -- with the Divine.  This is not the day-to-day "rushing about madly,"  while knowing that God is "in charge" kind of praying.  It is something quite different. 

This is the prayer of sitting quietly in the lap of the Father just to feel His arms around you.  It is feeling your heart beating along with His. It is to be so still that His breath stirs the downy hairs at the nape of your hopes. It is to be known - with such tenderness that you sigh more deeply into His care with each trusting release.

I never doubt that the thermals of Spirit will be there when I step off the ever-crumbling ledge of human control or worry -- the undulating edge that my life often looks and feels like.  Those moments when thunderheads blacken the horizon, and I think I can neither see a divine plan -- before or behind. When it looks as if lifitng my wings will put them right into the path of a lightning bolt.  I do it anyway, and there is a rush of peace when I feel that invisible current under my heart -- lifting it above doubt and despair.  It is not unlike the rush of love I feel when I look into my daughters' faces and remember that God trusted me with His precious child.

When it seems as if I'm falling out of grace.  I pause for just a moment, and shift in this space of listening.  And I can feel yet another current of God's love carrying me out of the descent. 

This is what prayer feels like to me.  I love riding these thermals of Love -- in joyful celebration of Her unseen ever-presence.  It is how I remind myself that what is unseen is often more powerful than what is not. It is to be raised up, "on eagle's wings.". 

offered with Love, 

Cate

"it's all i need to know..."

"God is Love,
God is Love,
if it's all I ever learn in life,
it's all I need to know..."

Outside my cabin, I could hear a group of girls serenading a boy's cabin just down the hill. Their sweet voices lifted into the night sky like fireflies turning into stars. I closed my eyes hoping to capture some of their joy as it rose over the tall pines that stood like sentinels watching over us all.

I was reaching for joy, but it seemed so beyond my grasp that night. I'd received a call earlier in the evening that shook me to my core. Sorrow and bewilderment circled like coyotes looking for a place in my heart. I was on full alert, but tired. I needed a companion in the watch. Mindy Jostyn's beautiful, "God is Love" was a friend in the dark.

I let her remind me through the night that if I took nothing away from this experience -- but an understanding of what it meant that God is Love -- it would be enough. The hope of healing was alive in me. But what that healing would look like seemed elusive. In some ways, I didn't even know what to hope for. Would I stop feeling sad? Would the pain disappear? Would my heart cease to ache? Would someone tell me that the call I'd received earlier had never really happened?

I'd been sitting in the dark for hours, when I suddenly felt an overwhelming desire to read from Mary Baker Eddy's primary text on spiritual healing, Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures. I had a long history with finding healing and comfort in her pages. It was exactly what I needed at that moment. I turned on the lamp and opened my dog-eared copy randomly.

My eyes fell on these words from a longer sentence:

"...the proof of healing, 
a sweet and certain sense
that God is Love." 

It washed over, and through, me like a dam breaking upstream. The proof of healing wasn't going to be seen in a changed physical picture. I wasn't going to hear different news, or wake up to a different report. But I would know this healing. I would have absolute proof of healing.  I would feel it in a "a sweet and certain sense that God is Love" filling my heart -- filling my life.

I turned off the lamp and returned to the stillness of the night. I listened to Mindy's voice -- and I knew I was healed. I felt it. It started as a glowing ember at my core. I felt Spirit breathe upon its presence - all the hope, trust, and affection I held in my heart. Before long, I could feel that "sweet and certain sense that God is Love" radiating, warming, and filling every dark corner of the night. I was healed. I had proof.

Elsewhere in Science and Health, Mary Baker Eddy assures us:

"The depth, breadth, height,
might, majesty, and glory
of infinite Love fill all space.
That is enough!" 

And it really was. It was enough, just to know that, "God is Love." I could actually feel that it was the most important thing I would ever learn in life, and that it was all that I would ever really need to know.

On the surface of things, nothing had changed. But deep within my heart I actually felt it -- that sweet and certain sense that God is Love -- and it was all the proof of healing I needed.  I have returned to this experience many times since that night.

In fact, just today my heart was heavy. The news was overwhelming. One alarming report after another. One disturbing account immediately on the heels of the last. The information was coming rapid fire. It felt like I had been praying -- without ceasing -- for days. I couldn't even imagine what healing might look like when there was so much to be healed, and so many issues to be prayerfully addressing. 

 As I stood at the stove waiting for the tea kettle to boil, the strains of Mindy's "God is Love," washed through my heart like the soundtrack from a favorite film. I recalled that night, over a decade earlier, when I had felt so engulfed in grief. And I remembered -- the only proof of healing I needed to feel was:

"a sweet and certain sense
that God is Love" 

I closed my eyes, quieting the clamor of the human mind.  And there it was -- the feeling. That sweet and certain sense that God is Love filling my heart. It was all the proof I needed. It was enough. 


offered with Love,

Kate

"i am the cup..."

"i am the cup,
mended and washed,
i am the true container
for all that I've lost;

"for all that i've lost
and gathered again,
is only what hangs in the air,
when the music ends..."

 Carrie Newcomer's  "Visitation,"  speaks to me today, in a much different way than it did earlier this month.

You see, I wrote a post with this song - and title - two weeks ago.  But Blogger changed it's editing and formatting platform this week, and for some reason that post disappeared.  So I have no record of what it said.  But this is the perfect metaphor for what I want to say today. 

I am not who I was two weeks.  I am new.  You are new.  We are listening to this song, writing this post, and reading it from a completely new space of spiritual discovery.  

I think about the clay that sits in the palm of my hand before a prayer takes form in a vessel - a cup - that will hold something yet unknown.  

So today, let yourself be new.  Let your prayers be new.  Let them be free of your words. Let them be the song of divine Love whispering her fresh messages to you.  As our toddler daughter once said to me: 

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

 May your prayers be full of deep listening and less thinking. 

with Love, 

Cate 

"a hush of expectation..."

"It's the dawn,
it's the morning,
it's the end of the night,
and the hearts of men
are stirring
to know they're not alone;

there's a hush of expectation,
and a quiet in the air,
and the breath of God is moving
in the fervent breath of prayer..."

Finding a new song by Sara Groves is like turning the corner and seeing the face of a friend. Her  "To the Dawn,"  caught me that way this morning.

Every morning I show up at the feet of Christ in prayer -- listening, listening, listening for our Father's message of purpose, comfort, direction to guide my day.

But I have to admit, I also show up with a sense of hope. Hope for a moment's burst of light. To hear a voice not my own in the silence. To feel the wash of grace. To read a Scripture, and have it come alive with fresh meaning.

When this happens -- whatever time of day it is -- it is morning again. The dawn is breaking and I am fully awake in a new way.

This happened yesterday with such sweet suddenness and clarity that it took my breath away. A familiar Scripture opened up like a time-lapse video of a blossoming rose. One moment it was "oh yes..." -- the next it was, "oh, yes!"

Here is the Scripture from Phillipians:

"My God shall supply
all your need..."

Bur this is how it rose from the page:

"My God shall supply
all your need..."

Ah, the selfless compassion of it all. The inclusiveness of this prayer - so full of brotherhood and care. The God that I love and worship, is supplying all your need. There is no personal quid pro quo with God. We do not simply pray for our own needs to be met. Nor are our prayers ever completely satisfied by the fullness of our own cupboards, or the "demonstration" of our own health and harmony.

There is no personal evidence of God's love. My God shall supply all your need.  This is a promise.  This is the heart of Christianity -- whether that Christianity is being practiced by Muslim, Jew, Buddhist, agnostic, philosopher or child. This is the gift of agape love. My God shall supply all your need, according to His riches... Not according to prayerful endeavors. Not according to our unique approach to Him -- a rosary, prayer beads, a call from a minaret, or saffron robes.

This is the prayer of a child who loves his/her parent and sees that parent as universally generous. No favoritism. None of us are "only children."  

When my sister and I were little girls, and our family's coffers were less than modest, my love for her was greater than my own hunger. My parents would feed her. They would clothe her. They would make sure she was safe. That was the promise I clung to.

It is the prayer I am filled with today. "My God shall supply all your need." Someone once said to me, "nobody wins, until everybody wins." Isn't this the most beautiful sense of spiritual family. We are not alone.

Have a blessed day -- brother, sister...

offered with Love,

Cate 

" exchanging the objects of sense, for the ideas of Soul..."

"It's only words,
and words are all I have..."

This post from 2013 still rings true for me -- in fact, more so with every Soul-inspired moment of surrender.

I've always loved the Bee Gee's song, "Words." As a girl, I felt that in the absence of physical stature, authority, or resources -- that words were all I had. Words represented limitless ideas, thoughts, inspiration. There was no false measurement of an idea -- they were simply, always infinite is scope.

No matter what was going on in my life, I could always retreat to the space of consciousness, a place where these infinite thoughts and ideas waited like eager friends. I'd listen, they'd answer all my big questions, and we'd create beautiful word sculptures from the raw materials of ideas, thoughts, metaphors and symbols.

This was always enough for me. So what happened?

If you've read my recent post, "the evidence," you might sense that I am in the space of deep paradigm-shifting. It often seems as if inspirational texts -- that I once thought I "got," -- are now, so new to me. It's almost like I've joined Alice, and stepped through the looking glass. Everything feels a bit upside down, and I'm a wonder-filled child again.

Take this much-loved, and familiar passage from Science and Health with Key to the Scripture by Mary Baker Eddy:

"Desire is prayer.
And no loss can occur
from trusting God with our desires,
that they may be moulded and exalted,
before they take form
in words and in deeds."

Okay, so here's how I always interpreted this: I had desires. And those desires were articulated as prayer.  Meaning, I could trust them to be "of God," since prayer is, as Eddy states earlier on the same page, "God's gracious means..."

So, I'd continue:  I have these God-inspired desires - prayers.  I can trust them to be moulded and exalted by Him, before they take form in words and in deeds...

Isn't there something missing here? Aren't the words and deeds just a stepping stone to their final form? Actual things?  Things like stronger muscles, bigger bank accounts, a better job.  Well, not according to this statement.  It says that words and deeds are the form.

But that wasn't what I had been thinking -- or expecting -- for a very long time.  Somehow I'd gotten the impression that these word-symbolized ideas, thoughts, and deeds, would eventually lead to more tangible forms.

For example,  take my desire for home. I would pray, and would be inspired with ideas that would take "form" in prayers.  These ideas, I understood to be the spiritual substance of home. Ideas like: "the spiritual foundation of home is kindness, respect, charity, a foundation that is deep, enduring, God-based, and reliable."  

It was my privilege, as a spiritual thinker, to consciously cherish those ideas and put them into practice.  Then, when understood sufficiently, they would take form -- or have manifestation -- in a house. Thus giving "form" to a spiritual sense of home. 

But that doesn't seem to be what Eddy is saying in the above-referenced statement. And for that matter, my interpretation of that statement, was not necessarily borne out in the lives of prophets and apostles.   I respected these Biblical thought-leaders for their deep spiritual sense of home and place.  Yet, when I thought about it, I realized I didn't know all that much about their houses.  I knew about their ability to find peaceful resting places in the wilderness, deserts, "the valley of the shadow of death," and on dusty roads -- but nope, not so much about their houses.

Yet Eddy states that words and deeds are the form. And when I started thinking about the people I deeply admired -- Jesus, Gandhi, Mandela, Angelou, Lincoln -- I realized that I didn't know much about their houses, bodies, bank accounts, or neighborhoods either. It wasn't their "things" that recommended them, it was their legacy of thoughts and deeds which were timeless -- eternal.

Suddenly everything became alive with a limitless spiritual reality -- right then and there!  The very atmosphere of consciousness felt pulsing with tangible, reliable, infinitely substantive forms.  Forms that were already completely, fully realized. 

Now, everything I am reading about "thought" it has a new sense of promise. Take this stanza from Eddy's poem, "Satisfied:"

"And of these stone,
and tyrant's thrones,
God able is,
to raise up seed,
in thought and deed
to faithful His..."

Yes! Yes! Yes!  In thought and deed.  Not in the right job, houses, cars, more youthful bodies, improved stock portfolios, but in "thoughts and deeds." Thoughts and deeds that are the evidence -- the seed realized -- the fruition, the substance, the reality. 

For so many years I've expected good thoughts to resolve themselves -- when considered metaphysically -- into things.   For example:  an understanding of abundance, would resolve itself into the "demonstration of supply" -- money.  A deeper spiritual sense of motherhood unfolds as a tangible "demonstration of family" -- a loved one found, marriage, a child conceived or adopted, siblings reunited, improved relationships.

But I don't think this is what Eddy is saying.  She is encouraging us to "resolve things into thoughts," and to "exchange the objects of sense for the ideas of Soul" -- not the other way around.

So, perhaps our houses, our loved ones, financial responsibilities, our servant-bodies, the need for transportation, the demands of being part of a community -- locally or globally -- are simply the "things" that God lovingly provides as encouragement.  Encouragement to go deeper, higher --  to go back to the spiritual well, the Source of those symbols.  These divine gifts keep us invested in a deeper desire for the real substance of life -- those thoughts, words, and deeds that are indissoluble, infinite, eternal, and enduring.  Perhaps they are the things that lead us to their resolution --  into more inspired thoughts, and kinder deeds.

This is a shift for me. To stop thinking that my desires -- my prayers -- are not going to take eventual form in "things."  And to discover that these desires have already been evidenced -- so perfectly --  in words, thoughts, and deeds.  

Elsewhere in Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, Mary Baker Eddy states: 

Metaphysics resolves things into thoughts,
and exchanges the objects of sense
for the ideas of Soul."

We are not resolving infinite thoughts, into things that are limited.  Into measurable, restricted forms. These boundless thoughts are expanding our sense of being -- not reducing them.

I am finding that to be truly "satisfied," with these expansive spiritual forms is the simplicity in Christ that I have been seeking.  In this space I feel happy, innocent, childlike, and free. Free to be completely grateful in every moment of trust, to appreciate each instance of faith, inspired thought, beautiful words, a kind deed, infinite hope.  No more waiting or wanting.

Last night I was lying in the dark and I realized that when I align myself fully with this deeper sense of being satisfied, there is nothing more to desire. I am completely present with every thought and word that comes to my heart.  There is no want.  My contentment is secure.  I know that no one can stop me from listening for God's thoughts, and watching them take form in words.  And immediately, I can bless others with those thoughts.

And really, can there be any greater deed that you, or I, or anyone else can ever do than to bless another with our God-moulded and exalted prayers of appreciation? Or a Love-inspired gift of right spiritual identification? The genuine desire for them to know God's presence and power in their lives?  Nothing can stop us from doing these good deeds all night and day. 

A friend once shared with me a concept that has been attributed to Mary Baker Eddy, but without documentation of that attribution.  Whether Mary Baker Eddy is responsible for it or not, it has been helpful to me -- so I will share it here in the way that I think about it: 

Let's say you have a quarter.  That quarter is a symbol.  We -- society, the federal treasury, the market -- have determined, and agreed, that this symbol represents twenty-five cents, or one quarter of one dollar.  We accept that measure of its symbolic worth -- based on current treasury numbers.  Supply and demand markets tell us how much, in goods and services, we can expect to get in exchange for this quarter.  

But if we step back a bit and look at things spiritually, that quarter is just a symbol.  And what it symbolizes is very different when we start -- as Eddy instructs -- with the All-in-allness of God.  If this symbol exists, it exists as a representative of good, of value, worth, appreciation for the creativity and services provided.  And since these qualities -- goodness, value, worth, appreciation are spiritual they only have one measure -- All.  You can't get just a little bit -- or even a moderate amount -- of anything spiritual.  The only measure of Spirit is infinite, all.  Therefore the only measure of its expression is infinite, all -- all the time.  

To be in the presence that quarter -- which is a symbol of value and worth -- is to experience the presence of the All-in-all of what it represents.  All value is yours, all worth is yours, all goodness is yours -- abundantly.  No process, no growth, no maturity -- and no decay.   The symbol -- a quarter, points us to the true "form" -- the presence of value, worth, appreciation, goodness.  Thus we have resolved things -- the quarter, into infinite thoughts -- again, value, worth, appreciation, goodness.  

These "forms" are enough. They are not the means to another "end." They are not the way we get good things, or even better things. They are the end itself -- the all, the everything I have ever wanted, needed -- or desired.  To know the full value of love, to appreciate the good that is in the world, to discover the immortality, strength and beauty of a relationship with the divine. 

I will stop here -- this is a topic that is still becoming fully formed for me.  And as I've often said, this is my experience -- it is what is true for me, today.

shared with Love,

Kate

"why..."

"asking, "why God?"
didn't make me a bad Christian,
it made me a kid,
who needs my dad..."

Oh my. Austin French's new song,  "Why God,"  adds one more perspective on a question I have been sitting with for a couple of years.

That question has to do with Jesus' instruction in Matthew:

"After this manner,
pray ye..."

I've explored this injunction from so many angles. I have asked colleagues, friends, and mentors for their insights. I have stopped myself -- over and over again -- from praying out "the words" only. I have asked myself: Is this vain repetition? Are you in your closet? Are you praying to be heard of men -- or women? Are you praying "about God," or in conversation "with God?"

But there was something about  watching Austin's video today, that sent a shiver of something real through me. It has to do with this song's connection to the opening words of the Lord's Prayer, "Our Father..." and this above-quoted line from the video, "it made me a kid, who needs my dad."

I felt it. In that moment I could feel the manner of prayer. I am a child, in conversation with her father. Her (as Jesus called God) "Abba" - which translates, "daddy or papa." It could also be mommy or mama.

I know this feeling. I know how delighted I am to have our children come to us with their questions -- about anything. And I know that it isn't just our best stab at human answers that are meaningful to them, it is more about the way we listen to them -- with our entire whole-hearted love and focused attention.

A parent's love honors their child's questions. A parent does not see the question as a failing on their (or their child's) part, but simply an opportunity to deepen their relationship with one another. Sometimes, there are no words in the answers, and sometimes there are no answers, just oneness.

When our children ask the "why" questions, our hearts open up with such a softness. I can only imagine our Father-Mother God's infinite tenderness when we bring our "why" questions to Him/Her.

And to be honest, sometimes, to feel that tenderness is the only answer we really need. To feel heard -- and held. And often, the answer is simply that feeling itself -- of being in relationship with my Father-Mother God. And most times, it is the entire answer.  "Lo, I am with you - alway."  

Right where the "why" question tries to insinuate that I am asking because, "I don't know..." I find that, I do know. I know exactly where to turn. I know precisely Who to take my hurt, my uncertainty, my aching heart, and my "why" questions to. Asking "why," brings me home -- again and again. This longing -- causes me to curl into my divine Parent's arms -- and to be held.  This deeply intimate connection with God -- is the manner, after which I pray.

That is my "why."  


offered with Love,

Cate 

"the reason..."

"He put that hunger in your heart,
He put that fire in your soul;

His love is the reason...”

Just when I think I will have to write these posts - without new songs as keynotes - Love pours out a fathomless blessing. Today's song is from the group Unspoken. I love their video for  "Reason."  And if I see a big handful of balloons in the sky -- I hope you will be holding them!

I was never a particularly athletic or adventurous girl, teen, woman.  I did not dream of climbing mountains, winning competitions, or swimming the English channel. 

I wanted to be a good girl, read through the fiction section of every school and community library, write a book, learn a musical instrument, marry a nice man, and have children.  

I was a good girl.  In hindsight, I am most grateful to have known myself through the lens of that desire.  

But why didn't I want more. I don't know.  It was just what I desired.  For many years I thought I was somehow stunted in an area of life that my friends and siblings shared -- a desire for adventure, travel, sports.  

I worried that I was a bookworm, a slacker, someone most at home and happy in small, dark, quiet spaces.  I gravitated towards libraries, out-of-the-way coffeehouses, and closets -- yes, literally closets.

I tried.  I tried to want to play outside, join a team, go on an adventure -- but I was always eager for the game, competition, expedition, adventure, vacation to be over. 

For a while I let myself be called an "introvert" -- but somehow that felt off - untrue.  I wasn't a kind of a person.  I was just me.  

That was when I started to listen for spiritual inspiration, and it came in two sentences from the very first page of Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures by Mary Baker Eddy:

"Desire is prayer
and no loss can occur
from trusting God with our desires
that they may be molded and exalted
before they take for in words and in deeds.

Prayer is God's gracious means
for accomplishing whatever has been
successfully done for the Christianization
and health of mankind. "

It suddenly occurred to me that if desire was prayer, and prayer was God's gracious means, that my desires were not mine at all -- they were God's means for moving my heart in the direction of His purpose for me. He way of blessing the world - and He would fulfill it.

As the song says:

"What He started in you,
He's gonna finish..."

He doesn't put that desire there and expect us to make it happen. Or as my friend Mike shared from Francis Thurber Seal's biography, Christian Science in Germany:

"God sent me on a mission,
He's certainly not going to
drown me on the way."

Eddy assures us in the last portion of her "Daily Prayer," from The Manual of the Mother Church:

"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."

It was God's Word that was enriching my affections - my desires - for quietude, stillness, goodness, beauty, family, harmony. It was not my personal desire. I have no personal desire. When I fully yielded to this truth of truths, I started to love my life. I was not an introvert, I was just me. Uniquely suited to God's placement of my gifts in the completeness of creation. I was not a kind of person. I was all that God was -- He was drawing forth from His Allness what he needed me to desire every moment.

I was not some lesser version of man/woman -- one that didn't want to go hiking or swimming or climb the Himalayas, or pay soccer, or run a marathon, I was completely capable of doing all those things as the full expression of divine Being -- but God was not enriching my affections for those things. He was causing me to desire a life of contemplation, stillness and service to others. Elsewhere in Science and Health, Eddy writes:

"Unfathomable Mind is expressed.
The depth, breadth, height, might,
majesty, and glory of infinite Love
fill all space.

That is enough!"

I am enough. You are enough. We each include the depth, breadth, height, might, majesty and glory of infinite Love -- and from this enough-ness, God calls us into His desire for us -- in order to fulfill His purpose in the larger scheme of things.

I may not be interested in sky diving, but I love reaching the heights of Mind to soar o'er time and space. I may not want to raft a river running at 4,000 cubic feet per second, but I wake up each morning excited to explore every channel of thought I find. I may not have any desire to see the seven wonders of the world or eat in a cafe in Portugal, but the seven synonyms of God still stun me with their beauty and I am deeply satisfied with the bread of Life.

I am not an introvert, I am not a less social, less adventurous, less competitive version of man.  I am not less of anything. I am the full expression of all He has enriched my affections for. I am His. He is at the root of all my desires. And it is enough.

offered with Love,

Cate

"after this manner..."

"after this manner,
therefore, pray ye...” 

I've been thinking a lot about this preface to what has historically been referred to as "The Lord's Prayer." What does it mean? What is it really referring to?  What does it mean to pray after a particular manner?

It doesn't say, "after these words, therefore pray ye," but after this manner. I grew up thinking that it meant that we should pray with those particular words. And in fact, I do pray with those words, many times a day. But I can't imagine that Jesus -- who was all about the "how," rather than the "what" -- was really all that concerned about the specific words that one should be repeating in prayer. And if he were, shouldn't we be praying in Hebrew, Greek, or Aramaic? Whatever language he originally spoke those words in? 

In fact, when we look at what comes just before, he is not setting his audience up for memorization and repetition. He is defining the the spiritual posture for prayer. He says:

"When thou prayest, enter into thy closet
and when thou has shut thy door,
pray to thy Father which is in secret.
Use not vain repetitions.
Your Father knoweth what things
ye have need of, before ye ask him.”

So since it doesn't say, "after these words, pray ye," but "after this manner, pray ye," I have been wondering about how I can bring more obedience to my manner of prayer. The word manner, according to Webster's, means:

"the way in which a thing is done or happens;
a person's outward bearing or way of behaving”

It doesn't say anything about the particularly words, but the actual way we pray. Silently, in secret, with freshness, and above all, trusting that God knows what we need before we ask Him.

Starting each prayer with this clarity of posture - rather than accuracy of words - has brought fresh inspiration and a new level of listening to my prayer. Instead of jumping right in with familiar words, I find that I am actually starting with a silencing of the human mind's desire for vain repetition. The ego's insatiable desire to feel "in the know." For the human mind's, "I don't have to really listen for something new and fresh, because I've already got this figured this out." That approach to prayer can lead to a mantra-like sense of self-hypnosis.

I've also been considering how the actual words traditionally considered as "The Lord's Prayer," provide us with a metric for that listening.  These words themselves can help define the manner after which we pray.  First of all, it must be inclusive - it doesn't say, "my Father, but our Father."

Secondly, it must be conversant. We are not praying "about" a far off God, but are in conversation with the One who loves us, "Hallowed by Thy name," -- not "hallowed be His name." This prayer is in second person, not third. The Lord's Prayer encourages a sense of relationship with our Father.  We are speaking with Him, not about Him.

These are just a few things that have refreshed my love for the Lord's Prayer -- and the beautiful guidance we are given, whereby Jesus arrests "vain repetition," in order to give fresh breath to an inspired sense of listening -- for what "the Father knoweth," of our need.

I love that on the very first page of Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, Mary Baker Eddy shakes up a traditional world view of prayer as something that we do, think, or say -- and takes it all back for God, when she writes:

"Prayer [is]
God's gracious means
for accomplishing whatever
has been successfully done
for the Christianization
and health of mankind.”

Prayer is not something we do. It is what God is doing in us. We simply show up in secret, refuse vain [futile, self-centered] repetitions, and let God reward us openly with His Love.

offered with Love,

Cate

"what if..."

"What if I gave everything?
What if I stopped holding back from You?

Starting now,
I'm stepping out onto deeper waters

Ready to give everything..."

Casting Crowns' "What If I Gave Everything," reminded me of something I heard at a recent gathering of spiritual thinkers and healers.

In referring to lessons learned over the past year, one participant shared that -- like most of us -- they'd been buffeted by "what ifs.." I was silently nodding my head in agreement.  "Me too," I thought.

However, it was what they shared next that has stayed with me since that day. They said that they realized that it was an opportunity to ask some very different "what if" questions. Questions like: "What if I prayed?" Or, "What if I listened to God?"

I loved this.  It is a reclaiming of "what if" for God. Instead of the insidious voice of darkness hissing, "Yes, but what if you fall off this cliff? What if you never find your wallet?" Or, "What if this spot on my body means something?" 

We can immediately turn these "what ifs" around and ask ourselves, "What if God is All-in-all, as the Scriptures promise?" "What if I just take a moment to be still and recall all the ways that God has cared for my family?"

In Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, Mary Baker Eddy reminds us that:

"The starting-point of divine Science
is that God, Spirit, is All-in-all,
and that there is no other might nor Mind,
— that God is Love,
and therefore He is divine Principle."

This happens to be one of my favorite statements. Especially her use of the word "might." Might doesn't just mean power or strength, but also possibility. What might happen. What might be true. Eddy promises us that in divine Science -- or in the science of God's allness -- there is no other possibility, than that which is consistent with God's All-in-allness.

We can return to this "starting point" over and over again throughout our day.  This statement takes all the hypothetical possibilities, all the speculative theories, and all of the "what ifs" about what "might" be true - or happening at any given moment, and puts them right where they belong: "in the hands of God, in the keeping of Spirit."  In fact, on page 521 of Science and Health Eddy clearly states:

"All that is made is the work of God,
and all is good. We leave this brief,
glorious history of spiritual creation
(as stated in the first chapter of Genesis)
in the hands of God, not of man,
in the keeping of Spirit, not matter,
joyfully acknowledging now and forever
God's supremacy, omnipotence, and omnipresence."

Next time the dark voices begin to taunt you with their "what ifs," turn them around -- with confidence.  Ask yourself, "What if I trusted God supremely?" Or, "What if this moment is really just my opportunity to step into deeper waters, and be held in the buoying arms of divine Love?" And when you answer, answer with your whole heart. You may find that those bullying taunts simply turn tail and run -- scurrying into their dark native nothingness when questioned in the light of your love for God.

offered with Love,

Kate

"Thy will be done..."

"I'm so confused.
I know I heard You
loud and clear.
So I followed through,
somehow I ended up here.

I don't want to think
I may never understand,
that my broken heart,
is part of Your plan.

When I try to pray,
all I get is hurt,
and these four words:

Thy will be done..."

This afternoon, I stumbled on Hillary Scott's beautiful song,  "Thy Will." And in the span of watching her video, I was transported -- sitting alone, in an almost empty flat in the middle of the city -- wondering how I got there.

Only months before, I'd been a modestly well-respected wife and mother living in a 3,000 square foot multi-level house in a suburban neighborhood. Now here I was. And I couldn't imagine how eleven months of listening humbly and importunately for God's direction -- and getting it, loud and clear -- could feel this terrifying, confusing, and lonely.

I was not -- at all -- unclear about what God had said to me. I'd felt His Love-impelled power of it in every molecule of my being. I wasn't naive, I knew it would not be easy, but I also knew that it was the most loving thing that I could do for everyone in my life. So why, if I had been obedient to Love's unexpected direction -- did it hurt so badly? And it did. It hurt in the marrow of my being.

This wasn't how being Love's bidding was supposed to feel. And I had no doubt that I had heard God's voice -- mostly because the message with so clearly not what I thought God would say. But in the instant I heard it, without cross-questioning it, I fell on my knees and wept aloud:

"Thy will be done."

I was not naive. I knew that in my circle of family, friends, colleagues, and acquaintances, what God was asking me to do would be questioned, judged, speculated and whispered about. I just didn't think it would be as devastating as it was.

I had truly hoped that my devotion to God would have spoken for me. That those who knew me would have at least asked me, "what the hell are you doing?" Then I would have, at least, had someone's arms to weep in. But instead, it seemed as if everyone was quite willing to assume that I'd gone off the rails and blown it. The shame was crushing.

This isn't about the what I did, or why. Because, to be completely honest -- the only why is, "God said." And exactly what God said, is still so deeply holy for me that I cannot write about it. If you were to call me, and it seemed spiritually relevant, I would tell you -- it's not a secret. But to type it here -- or anywhere -- has not been something I can do. It's just too sacred.

Sitting alone at my kitchen table in the city that day, I begged God for direction, "Dear God, how do I defend myself from all the swirling misinformation and judgment?" And God's answer was just as clear as his earlier direction:

"He opened not his mouth
in defense of himself."

I got it -- thoroughly, and quickly. If I wanted to follow Christ, I had to be willing to be questioned, scoffed at, speculated about, and misunderstood. It terrified me. Didn't God understand that I was the ultimate people pleaser. Didn't He get that my early life as a stepchild -- who was forced to ingratiate herself in order to "earn" the right to be sheltered and fed -- had made me this way.

Disappointing people was my greatest fear, making them happy was my drug. And here I was disappointing everyone I loved and knew. Again, I turned to the writings of Mary Baker Eddy. I opened her primary text, Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures to page one and read:

"Prayer, watching, and working
combined with self-immolation,
are God's gracious means for accomplishing
whatever has been successfully done for
the Christianization and health of mankind."

And yes, in my copy of the book, the word "self-immolation" was bolded -- or at least it was that day. I knew what it meant. I'd been studying Eddy's work for decades. I knew that she recommended this practice of "suicide by fire," six times in her writings. And no, I didn't think she was encouraging me to grab a can of kerosene and a match -- she was urging the self-inflicted destruction of the ego.

In that moment, I understood. It wasn't going to be good enough for me to have my ego slayed by childhood circumstances, other people's choices, or chance. It was imperative that I took ownership of this humbling walk into the fire.

So I did. The ego wanted to run, to find a small rural community in Kansas to disappear into. To take my daughters (something I would never do) and change all of our names. Buy a farm and raise chickens.  But I knew better.  I'd lived that nightmare as a child.  Love demanded that I stay, walk with grace, live with courage, love with compassion, serve without hesitation, parent with dignity, and own my spiritual journey -- however scary that was.

It was not easy. In fact, there were many, many nights when I cried myself to sleep begging God to give me courage and strength to face the next day of averted glances, dismissal, and scorn. And He always did. My relationship to Jesus and Mary Baker Eddy was more strengthened by this time -- than any other experience in my life. I turned to their words and examples of grace -- continually -- for clues on how to navigate my own life.

Over and over again, I came back to:

"Thy will be done.
Thy will be done.
Thy will be done."

Long before this time -- when going through a physical challenge that had driven me to my knees -- I called someone who had been such a wonderful spiritual mentor. I needed encouragement, I needed for him to promise me that what I was going through was not spiritually right -- and to tell me that I could expect to be free of it. He didn't say those things. What he said was that "someday you are going to look back, and miss these days of being so hungry for God's touch in your life."

I thought he was mad-as-a-hatter at the time and told him so. But you know, he was right. The hard times -- those days when we are on our knees longing for answers, praying to feel the presence of grace -- they are the very best days.

Someone asked me recently why I do what I do -- take calls from people who are in pain, fearful, sad, confused. They couldn't understand why I would be so happy to get up in the morning, if I was just going to spend the day on the phone, Skyping, reading texts and emails from people who were struggling.

This is why. These challenges are not personal. When I am willing to sit with someone who is needing a "friend" to witness what they are facing, and willing to discern what is true -- I get to hear the angels with them. I discover how ripe with divine blessing our lives are when the fruit is most heavy. I get to watch the ego being slayed by the presence of divine Love.

God's will for us is to know Him in every moment of our lives. In I Thessalonians, chapter 5, verse 18, we are encouraged:

"In everything give thanks,
for this is the will of God..."

When we are willing to let go of a mortal, ego-centric sense of pride, accomplishment, acceptance, approval -- we find that everything -- and I mean everything -- is simply an opportunity to drawn nigh unto God and feel His nearness.

To those family members and friends who held me, let me weep, comforted me, trusted and encouraged me during those years -- I will never, ever, be able to say thank you with enough depth. My gratitude is unfathomable.


offered with Love,

Kate