I have been so busy with my activist life over the last few years that I haven't had time for much reflection on my spiritual life in my blog. I intended to spend this morning writing a reflection about how Spirit is at work in my life, but I got an urgent call from my wife that she needed me at a meeting she is leading for churches that want to have affordable housing built on their land. I rushed over to the Methodist Church and got back half an hour ago, with most of my morning gone. I don't regret having responded to my wife's call--that's what a good husband does, and I was happy to support her. But finding time to reflect is challenging when you are co-founder of a fledging nonprofit.
Let me begin by saying why I am happy that "God had other plans" for my morning. By heeding my wife's call, I got to see the amazing work that the MHCH Congregational Land team is doing: feasibility studies for churches that want to have affordable housing built on their underutilized property. Seeing these beautiful plans laid out on tables helped me envision what these projects would look like.
I also got to hear my wife give an inspiring devotion on the theme: "Without a vision the people perish..." (Proverbs 29:18). I am thrilled that our organization is helping churches envision a new and hopeful future not just for themselves, but also for the community they are called to serve.
I am happy to be part of this work because I feel it's God's work. I am convinced of this not only because this work is helping low-income and unhoused people to have decent and affordable housing, it is also helping to create the Beloved Community.
But what I want to reflect on is not my social justice work (which I write and talk about all the time), but the spiritual work that undergirds what I do.
Prior to marrying Jill, I was much more contemplative than I am today. My spiritual practice was mainly a form of silent worship, or as I would prefer to say, "listening and expectant worship." That's what drew me to the Quakers (and also to the Buddhists).
What has changed for me is that Bible study is now a much more important practice. I take time most days to reflect on daily devotions from the Methodist "Upper Room" Devotional. I also read "Jesus Calling" by Sarah Young--a series of daily devotions in which Jesus speaks directly to us, followed by Bible passages. On Mondays, I have a brief Bible study with Jill during our weekly "staff meeting." On Wednesdays, Jill and I have a brief Bible study with our friend Mark who lives in our back house. On Thursdays at noon, we often attend the Methodist Bible study with Pastor Amy Aiken of the First UMC of Pasadena (where we now attend worship). Once a month, we have a Quaker bible study. During my walks I often listen to a podcast by Bert Newton called "Parody and Subversion in Matthew's Gospel." As you can see, my Evangelical wife has had a huge influence on me!
I have always been a Bible-loving, Jesus-loving Quaker, however, so this is not an utterly new direction in my spiritual life. It's more of a change in emphasis.
These Bible studies are not just reading and interpreting the text, they're also a chance to explore one's spiritual life with others and see how the Bible/s lessons and insights can be applied. This kind of Bible study strengthens relationships and builds community.
I usually start my day with prayer. Before I get out of bed, I take time to be thankful for the gift of life and friends and family, and for God's presence in my life. I hold in the Light those I know who are sick or struggling, or people in the world who are suffering. I ask for Divine wisdom and guidance for the day, and listen for what Spirit is calling me to do. I often start with the prayer from Psalm 51: "Open my lips, O Lord, and my mouth shall proclaim thy praise. Create in me a clean heart and renew a right spirit within me." Often Jill and I pray together, which is very precious (especially when we cuddle!).
My spiritual practice is to remember to thank and praise God as often as I can throughout the day, and to listen for God's guidance. I feel this helps me draw nearer to the Source, and to hear the precious Inward Voice more clearly. This Inward Voice--what Quakers call the Inward Light of Christ--is incredibly loving and wise. It tells me that I am God's beloved child, in whom God is well pleased. It reminds me that everyone is God's beloved child and worthy of love and appreciation. It also encourages me to do what's right, even if it isn't easy.
I am grateful for this Inward Voice because being a broken human being in this broken world, I need help. There is so much pain, and disappointment, and struggle. Trying to bring healing to the world, and to oneself, sometimes feels incredibly difficult, even hopeless. And yet if I pause and catch my breath and listen, and "wait upon the Lord," there is also the peace and joy that makes life worth living.
This isn't to say that I don't have times of busy-ness and stress when I am oblivious to Spirit and act out of ego or hurt. Perhaps the reason I am writing this is to help me not to forget what is crucial and life-giving when I do what I feel Spirit is calling me to do.
What helps me to be mindful are walks in our lovely neighborhood where the noble trees and exuberant flora remind me of God's amazing and joyful creativity. I am also inspired by the abundance of fruit and vegetables and flowers in the little plot of paradise we call home....
Perhaps that's why I love the poetry of Mary Oliver. She is constantly reminding me to take time to connect with the amazing natural world around me. I love her idea that prayer is "paying attention," being completely present to nature's surprises, like the grass hopper eating sugar out of her hand (who knew?).
I'd like to end this reflection with one of my favorite poems by Mary Oliver, one that ends with the marvelous "query": "What do you intend to do with your one wild and precious life?"
“The Summer Day”
Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean—
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of
up and down-
who is gazing around with her enormous and
complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly
washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll
through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?
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