Why Getting Close to God Is Easier Than You Think
I'm not sure about you guys, but 2017 has turned out to be a pretty rough year for me. I can't even remember where my head was on January 1 (didn't I have a theme for the year or something?), but I can say with certainty I reached none of my goals or expectations or intentions for 2017. It was a whole different animal.
Not that it has been devoid of good things; like all of life it's been a mixture of good and bad, joy and despair, peace and fear, calm and chaos. But we moved twice this year, and I quit two jobs, and I've spent a whole year applying to PhD programs and I'm not done yet. Lots of change, uncertainty, stirring up, letting go, saying no, saying yes, uprooting.
In some ways, I am ending this year more in touch with myself than ever before. I've said yes to my needs this year, and said a painful no to some other people in the process. I've spent time, tears, and heartache exploring some of my coping strategies for life that haven't always been so healthy. I've gone down to the root of anxiety and perfectionism in my heart, and I can tell you it's scary and raw territory.
What does spirituality have to do with life when it is hard like that? In my life, the more in crisis or "turning-point" mode I am, the less I pray and the farther I feel from God. I'm just not the type of person that naturally runs to God in times of trouble, because I am the type of person who digs deeper into myself for help. I try to fix things by sheer willpower. And my sense of spirituality starts to wither, and I feel less alive, and exhausted.
I'm certainly not any kind of expert on things like this, but I do know a couple things for sure as we reach the end of another year. When things are hard and worn-down, and you maybe don't even have the energy to drum up some positivity or holiday warm-fuzzies, sometimes all you can do is re-state the things you know for sure, like, "the earth is still revolving, and I am held by gravity, and no single government has been in power forever."
And one thing I know for sure right now is that spirituality is aliveness, and all God ever asks of us is to come alive.
Brother David Steindl-Rast, an Austrian Benedictine monk, says the word “spirituality,” comes from “spiritus” which means “life,” “breath,” “aliveness.” Spirituality is the means by which we become wholly and holistically alive. We know instinctively (but the mystics confirm for us) this starts by coming alive in your body, being attentive and receptive to your senses.
For one thing, Brother David says most of us are totally dead to our sense of smell. "Start smelling," he says, "— not sightseeing, but smell-smelling, and it is wonderful. It makes you so much more alive. Aliveness starts with the body."
"But of course, when we say “spirituality,” we also mean aliveness to interrelationships, aliveness to our confrontation with that great divine mystery with which we are confronted as human beings and which we can look away from or forget or be dead to. We come alive to it. And all this coming alive — that is spirituality."
For most of my life I've associated spirituality with being good, doing good things -- being above reproach. But the truth is life contains hard choices are there is no way to emerge unscathed. Like Bonhoeffer said, there's no way to remain guiltless, but venturing a free choice -- making the best actions you can figure in the moment -- is what God asks of us. In his own way, I think Bonhoeffer was talking about coming alive.
If spirituality is coming alive, not being good, and if it starts with the body, spiritual practices may be as varied as smell-smelling, walking outside, going to art museums, reading poetry, meditating, making cookies.
It is great mystery and grace that the things that make us come alive also bring God close.
And I think I've learned this year, while life has seemed hard, that if I lean into my aliveness I lean into God's presence too.
Listen to podcasts. Try less hard. Follow the news. Get worked up about things. Read poetry. Clean up the trails. Let your feelings out. Go for a long run. Call your best friend. Light a candle. Rent a cabin.
And when you feel that momentary, fleeting sense of belonging in the universe, consider yourself alive -- spiritual -- connected. Consider yourself as close to God as the air around you.
Not that it has been devoid of good things; like all of life it's been a mixture of good and bad, joy and despair, peace and fear, calm and chaos. But we moved twice this year, and I quit two jobs, and I've spent a whole year applying to PhD programs and I'm not done yet. Lots of change, uncertainty, stirring up, letting go, saying no, saying yes, uprooting.
In some ways, I am ending this year more in touch with myself than ever before. I've said yes to my needs this year, and said a painful no to some other people in the process. I've spent time, tears, and heartache exploring some of my coping strategies for life that haven't always been so healthy. I've gone down to the root of anxiety and perfectionism in my heart, and I can tell you it's scary and raw territory.
What does spirituality have to do with life when it is hard like that? In my life, the more in crisis or "turning-point" mode I am, the less I pray and the farther I feel from God. I'm just not the type of person that naturally runs to God in times of trouble, because I am the type of person who digs deeper into myself for help. I try to fix things by sheer willpower. And my sense of spirituality starts to wither, and I feel less alive, and exhausted.
I'm certainly not any kind of expert on things like this, but I do know a couple things for sure as we reach the end of another year. When things are hard and worn-down, and you maybe don't even have the energy to drum up some positivity or holiday warm-fuzzies, sometimes all you can do is re-state the things you know for sure, like, "the earth is still revolving, and I am held by gravity, and no single government has been in power forever."
And one thing I know for sure right now is that spirituality is aliveness, and all God ever asks of us is to come alive.
Brother David Steindl-Rast, an Austrian Benedictine monk, says the word “spirituality,” comes from “spiritus” which means “life,” “breath,” “aliveness.” Spirituality is the means by which we become wholly and holistically alive. We know instinctively (but the mystics confirm for us) this starts by coming alive in your body, being attentive and receptive to your senses.
For one thing, Brother David says most of us are totally dead to our sense of smell. "Start smelling," he says, "— not sightseeing, but smell-smelling, and it is wonderful. It makes you so much more alive. Aliveness starts with the body."
"But of course, when we say “spirituality,” we also mean aliveness to interrelationships, aliveness to our confrontation with that great divine mystery with which we are confronted as human beings and which we can look away from or forget or be dead to. We come alive to it. And all this coming alive — that is spirituality."
For most of my life I've associated spirituality with being good, doing good things -- being above reproach. But the truth is life contains hard choices are there is no way to emerge unscathed. Like Bonhoeffer said, there's no way to remain guiltless, but venturing a free choice -- making the best actions you can figure in the moment -- is what God asks of us. In his own way, I think Bonhoeffer was talking about coming alive.
If spirituality is coming alive, not being good, and if it starts with the body, spiritual practices may be as varied as smell-smelling, walking outside, going to art museums, reading poetry, meditating, making cookies.
It is great mystery and grace that the things that make us come alive also bring God close.
And I think I've learned this year, while life has seemed hard, that if I lean into my aliveness I lean into God's presence too.
Listen to podcasts. Try less hard. Follow the news. Get worked up about things. Read poetry. Clean up the trails. Let your feelings out. Go for a long run. Call your best friend. Light a candle. Rent a cabin.
And when you feel that momentary, fleeting sense of belonging in the universe, consider yourself alive -- spiritual -- connected. Consider yourself as close to God as the air around you.
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