meditation

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In last week’s meditation, we talked about how God respects our boundaries even when we do not and remains true to God’s character even when in our limited understanding we expect God to behave otherwise.  God knocks at the door of the hurting, hidden places within us and waits patiently and faithfully until we are truly ready to open the door.

As You Open

I was praying with Paul’s prayer for the Ephesians recently and quite unexpectedly found my attention drawn again to the metaphor of the door:

I ask him to strengthen you by his Spirit—not a brute strength but a glorious inner strength—that Christ will live in you as you open the door and invite him in. – Ephesians 3:16-17, The Message

This time, I noticed, the metaphor is not conditional as in Revelation (“If anyone hears my voice and opens the door…”) but instead assumes that the door is already being opened and that God is already being invited in (“…as you open the door and invite him in.”).  Again there is the promise that God will indeed come in, but this time, the waiting is over.  God’s patience has paid off.  The door is  being opened, and the invitation is being extended.

Intention is Enough

I realized that just my sincere intention, just my demonstrated willingness to become willing, was in itself a beginning to open the door.  At the very least, the door was unlocked, and my hand was on the handle.

Like the labyrinth walk, each step we take toward God is an opening of the door, a turning of the handle, an unlocking.  Our intention is enough. Our movement in the direction of God, however small and halting, is enough to answer the knock and begin to open the door.

Reach Out

God is always saying to us, “Here I am! I stand at the door and knock.”  My prayer today is that we may hear God’s voice of love and set our intention and our orientation toward the door, trusting that even our smallest and most uncertain response is enough to begin to open the door and say, “Come on in.”

The fruit is hanging on the branch, my fellow pilgrims, ripe and ready for the taking. Reach out with me, even just a little, toward the healing and wholeness that is available to us all.  That little bit is all it takes to begin to receive all that God has for us–that fullness of joy we have been promised!

I loved reading The Chronicles of Narnia series as a kid.  One of the scenes that always captured my imagination is when the elusive Aslan appears at the White Witch’s castle and begins breathing on the various characters she had turned to stone.  As Aslan breathes on each stone figure, the stone fades away, and each character returns to life!

In a recent prayer time, the image of Aslan breathing on the stone figures came to the surface again along with a line from the great old hymn, “Be Thou My Vision”:

Heart of my own heart, whatever befall,
still be my vision…

I sensed God’s invitation to become more aware of God’s heart within me: soft, alive, expansive, receptive, and best of all capable of holding others’ hearts within mine as my heart is held within God’s.

I’m reminded of the prayer Jesus prayed in John 17:21-23:

The goal is for all of them to become one heart and mind—
Just as you, Father, are in me and I in you,
So they might be one heart and mind with us.
Then the world might believe that you, in fact, sent me.
The same glory you gave me, I gave them,
So they’ll be as unified and together as we are—
I in them and you in me.
Then they’ll be mature in this oneness,
And give the godless world evidence
That you’ve sent me and loved them
In the same way you’ve loved me.  (The Message)

This is my prayer for myself and for each of you, fellow pilgrims, that God might breathe new life into each of us to soften and enliven the portions of our hearts that have turned to stone.  As we become more fully aware of God’s presence within us, may we realize our capacity for moving into true community with one another–authentic community that catches the attention and captures the hearts of those who have not yet experienced God’s heart for them.

May Aslan breathe on the hardened places in each of us today, my friends, that our hearts may remain in the heart of God and expand to hold the hearts of others.

Beginning this week, I’m excited to share a new ongoing blog series called Monday Meditation.  These posts will be relatively short (I hope) snippets of inspiration for the week ahead, drawn from what comes up for me in my personal prayer practices.

I remember one birthday of mine, when I was turning about 11 or 12, opening presents with my family.  Part of our birthday ritual was hiding presents around the house and playing “hot-and-cold” while the birthday girl (or boy) tried to find them.   On this particular birthday, I opened the hall closet door (hot! hot!) to find a large box covered in crumpled wrapping paper reused from last Christmas.  Upon opening, I discovered another, slightly smaller wrapped box inside, and then another, and another, and another, until I found myself on the floor in the hallway–surrounded by piles of ripped paper, cardboard boxes, and my family’s smiling faces–holding a small, misshapenly wrapped object in the palm of my hand.  I pulled apart the last bit of paper to reveal a small keychain with a silver-backed heart attached.  “You put your thumb on the heart, and the color changes to tell you your mood!” my younger brother explained excitedly.

That birthday keychain is long gone now, but so many years later, I still remember the fun and surprise of opening box after box with my family looking on with laughter and anticipation.  I realized, looking back now, that the real gift my brother gave me was the experience of spending my birthday with people I loved who loved me, searching for a hidden surprise, and finding it in an unexpected and delightful way that made me feel thought of, cared for, and celebrated–just for having come into existence!  That old mood-heart keychain was just a sweet souvenir, a small takeaway that I could hold and use to remember the real gift.

Recently, I was meditating on the gift of God’s presence and found the memory of that long-ago birthday to be a gentle reminder to seek after and savor the experience of being in the presence of God.  Out of that time may come a little kernel of wisdom, a realization, an inspiration to do something or change in some way–but those takeaways aren’t really the point.  They are nice souvenirs, tangible or intangible reminders of the real gift we receive when we seek God: encountering the Holy in the present moment.

And really, isn’t that what we’re all after, we pilgrims on this journey of ours?