Weekly Meditations

Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, began to sink. Mat. 14:29-30

Peter was given only one chance to walk on water. He did well at first but then was broadsided by a desolating thought and immediately felt himself sinking. The familiar story ends with Jesus unceremoniously leading Peter back to his boat. Nothing more was ever mentioned about his aborted attempt to walk on water.

But what if Peter had been given another chance? What if the Lord had brought him back to the same spot the next day? Would Peter have done better on his second, or third attempt? What if, with the help of the Holy Spirit, he got to practice this, over and over again, until he finally got it right? Would he eventually learn how to avoid the type of thinking that keeps scuttling him? Would he come to recognize the temptation of fear that always causes him to sink? Would he finally learn how to keep his eyes on Jesus and become proficient enough in faith to walk on water?

Most of us are much luckier in this than Peter was. We often get second, third and fourth chances to try our hand at faith. Sure, we keep falling into our familiar sink holes, but as we go over the same terrain again and again, we do have opportunity to learn how to approach our spiritual life differently, and to avoid the particular snares that we keep getting caught in. What are some of the repeated pitfalls in your life? What thoughts or attitudes keep causing you to sink? And how does God give you new opportunities each day to experiment with different approaches to these recurring problems? Like learning to ride a bicycle, how does the Holy Spirit keep you from overly losing your balance until you learn to ride on your own?

Because of the Lord’s infinite mercy we often get to go back to the drawing board of our lives. He truly is the God of second chances, and we’ve all been given many more opportunities than we deserve to start over and over again in our lives. As we continue to seek the Spirit’s counsel, we have every reason to hope that we will eventually learn whatever is needed to live a more consistent spiritual life. That is, as long as we don’t give up on ourselves, or on God. Maybe Peter never thought to ask for a second chance. Do we? Or do we presume that we are permanently stuck in our inability to live as we should?

Anyone who has watched toddlers learn how to walk will often see one of two responses to the many times they fall: they either sit where they have fallen and cry, or else they pick themselves up and try again until they get it right. Let us be grateful that God affords us many opportunities to correct our unfruitful approaches to life. And let us also live with hope that, in spite of our many failings, we can eventually grow from toddlers who keep falling, to a maturity that, with God’s help, might one day even walk on water.

My heart says of you, “Seek his face.”  Your face O Lord, will I seek.                                         Psalm 27:8

If your heart in any way longs for unity with God then you are certainly in the company of many saints who, throughout history, have also yearned for this same end.  Our desire, in the words of St. John of the Cross, “to be united with the Object of our love” represents the most foundational human need for which metaphors of home, of belonging and of rest are often used.  Below is a litany of quotes from many saints who have articulated their own understanding of what this longing implies.

Jeanne Guyon, a 17^th century spiritual director speaks, for instance, of the birth of our spiritual life when we first begin to respond to the love of God, as David did, saying, “Your face O Lord, will I seek.”   She writes,

The experience of union begins very simply when there is born in you a desire for God. When the soul begins to turn inward to the life of the Spirit; when the soul begins to fall under the powerful, attraction of the Spirit.  At this point, an earnest desire for union with God is born.

This desire is understood as the initial seed, planted by God, that then urges us to seek greater intimacy with the goodness that we have tasted.  Guyon adds, “The desire for God becomes more refined and profound.  This desire for God is the preparation for union with him.”

Another metaphor that many spiritual writers use to describe this unity is that of the marriage of our wills with God’s.  Jesus, as the firstfruit of many brothers and sisters, modeled this new creation for us—the unity of the human will with that of the Divine.  It is the disposition we hear in Mary’s consent to, “Let it be unto me according to Your word.”  It is the obedience perfected by Jesus at Gethsemane, “Nevertheless Your will be done.”  It is the hope of the Lord’s prayer by which we petition, “Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.”

Teresa of Avila recognized as well that, “the union of our wills to God’s is the only type of union essential to holiness—the union of the will of God with a dynamic, passionate, fully alive human will.”  Such compliance is simply the appropriate posture of the creature in relationship to its Creator.  And the recovery of this right relationship is the goal of our sanctification.  In other words, the more we submit to God in the posture of prayer the more we participate with our ultimate destiny.  As Thomas Dubray writes,

Prayer is God’s perpetual call within us, drawing us toward the fulfillment of the ultimate purpose of our creation—our union with God. The farther we advance in the life of prayer, the more we will relish this sense of union with God.

And finally, the 12^th century Cistercian Bernard de Clairvaux, a man well acquainted with the vocabulary of life-long desire for God, celebrates the fruit of such a consecrated life when he writes,

Blessed is the soul with whom God takes up His residence and makes it the place of His rest.  Blessed is he who can say, “He that formed me has lodged, and now dwells, in my tabernacle.”

As we see, we are in good company whenever we recognize and respond to the Holy Spirit-prompted desire for unity with God.  The communion of saints, both past and present, invites us to join then in seeking the profound intimacy of God that our hearts so long to embrace.

Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care.     Mat. 10:29

When my son was two years old we used to play a game of trust where he would jump into my arms from the roof of our Volkswagen van.  I was the one who called it a game of trust.  He simply called it fun.  I would lift him onto the roof of our van, stand back a few feet, and then invite him to jump off.  Without a moment’s hesitation he would leap into my arms.  I would then take another step back from the van and call him to jump again.  And once more he would fly off the roof into my arms, laughing all the way. I remember doing this after church one Sunday and having a little crowd gather around to watch.  It was quite a spectacle to see.

But I will always remember the last time we played this game together.  As we had done so many times before I put my son on the roof and waited for him to jump to me.  And then I saw it in his face.  Whatever thought entered his mind, I knew that it had introduced him to the notion of fear.  For the first time in his short life, he had entertained the possibility that I might not actually catch him.  I could see the struggle between faith and doubt so evident in his hesitation.  It paralyzed him until I went over and helped him down from the roof.  And that was the last time we ever played this game together.

It was inevitable that this moment would one day arrive but I wonder if God too has such memories of times when we have chosen fear over faith.  Does the Lord remember the first time He saw us hedging our bets, or setting up a back-up plan just in case He didn’t come through for us?  What does God see on our face whenever we entertain the possibility that He might not actually catch us?  And what would it take for us to return to that child-like trust where, without hesitation, we would gladly jump into God’s arms?  As you anticipate the coming year, how might this apply to something that God is inviting you to trust Him with?

There is no more direct way of honouring another person than by expressing our trust in them.  We withhold trust when we are uncertain about a person’s motives or competence.  We hesitate to rely on someone if we’re not sure they can be counted on to deliver or to succeed in a task.  We lack confidence in someone if we doubt that their word or promises are really worth anything.  And we are naturally more cautious if we suspect a person’s intentions might not be in our favour.

To exercise trust in God then is to express faith that God’s character is good, that He is up for the task, and that we expect Him to be faithful to His word.  It also honours God that we are at peace in the certainty that He has our best interests in mind.  Trusting God then is the most direct means we have of honouring the trustworthiness of His character.  In the coming year, the many ways by which we express such confidence in God’s faithfulness will surely be what most touches our Father’s heart.

“Let’s go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about.”                                            Luke 1:15

In the midst of all the wonderful bustle we enjoy each year at Christmas we do well to celebrate the peace and stillness for which this holiday is also associated. We need only bask in the gentle strains of “Silent Night” to once again sense the invitation of the Holy Spirit to come and linger, if only for a few minutes, near the sovereign calm that we imagine at Jesus’ birth.

Take opportunity during the holidays, often if you can, to create times of solitude where this calm can impress itself on your heart.  In the ancient discipline of recollection, let your prayerful meditations deeply and more truthfully shape your experience of Christmas.  Perhaps the Ignatian form of using the imagination to contemplate the Gospels might be a helpful aid in allowing the spirit of Jesus’ calming presence to enter in. *

Imagine the manger scene.  Picture yourself there.  Even if it’s only an image you are remembering from an old Christmas card, it doesn’t matter.  See yourself as part of the unfolding scene as you linger in the presence of the infant Jesus.  Allow the Holy Spirit to direct you in your imagination.  Your five senses can also help situate you in the scene.  Consider the physical environment your imagination has led you to.  What is the temperature?  Is the air cool or is it warm?  What sounds do you hear around you as you stop to listen?  Are people talking or shuffling about?  Are there animals there?  Can you hear reveling from the nearby inn?  What smells do you notice?  Your own clothes?  The shepherds standing next to you?  Can you feel the straw beneath your feet?  Or the night breeze blowing through the open manger?

How does it all look to you?  What do you see as you picture this scene?  Where are people situated?  Where is the light coming from?  What about the shadows?  Where do they fall?  And where are you situated in the picture?  Are you part of the scene?  Are others aware of your presence?  Do you interact with them in any away?  Let yourself be surprised by what unfolds.  How do you feel about being there?

Now picture the baby in whose presence we gather. Consider how the child tacitly welcomes us.  Without a word spoken, without even a gesture, what is being communicated to all those present?  We gaze at the baby.  We sense the grace and truth that emanates towards us.  It is good to be here.  God is glad as well that you are here to share His gift.  You are in the presence of a timeless truth—the utter simplicity of innocence.  It satisfies your every instinct of how life should be.  And for these few moments, you are receiving the most blessed Christmas gift of all.  There is peace.  Nothing more is needed in life.  All is calm.  All is bright.  Christ, our Saviour, is born.  And, in the deepest recesses of your being, you are receiving your King.

* If this form of using the imagination to contemplate the Gospels is helpful to you, you can find other”Mysteries of the Life of our Lord” from the Ignatian Spiritual Exercises, along with further instructions, on this website under “Praying the Gospels” http://imagodeicommunity.ca/category/praying-the-gospels/.  The Christmas passages to meditate on would be from #262-270.

As the sound of your greeting reached my ears, the baby in my womb leaped for joy.
Luke 1:41-44

There is no greater satisfaction for us as Christian than to recognize the hand of God in our lives, or in the lives of those we love.  Like John the Baptist in the womb, our hearts leap with joy at the least hint of recognition of the Lord’s active presence.  It is easy as well to imagine God’s heart filled with a similar satisfaction at His children recognizing the signs of His creativity.

The capacity to detect God’s presence in life is something we learn mostly through prayer.  It is from first-hand experience of God’s movement within us that we then become familiar with the subtlety of His ways in all other areas of life. As the Dominican monk Simon Tugwell notes, “Familiarity with God’s ways enables us more and more to recognize certain patterns, certain coincidences, certain little details as signs of His artistry.”

The Jesuit author William Barry as well affirms the importance of prayer in helping alert us to the movement of God when he writes,

Prayer heightens our awareness, it sharpens our ability to feel the ‘finger of God.’  From such familiarity we are then able to anticipate the subtlety of God in all of life.

At Advent we are called to be especially alert to the coming of Christ, and this can also mean learning to recognize the many different ways that Jesus “comes” to us in our day.  It does seem that the more we gaze at life with the eyes of faith, and the more we anticipate the presence of God in all things, the more evidence of God we will see in our lives.

Advent proclaims our confidence that “God comes!”  Carlo Carretto, a contemporary desert hermit, reflects on the verb tense of this phrase saying,

It is not used in the past tense—God has come, nor in the future tense—God will come, but in the present tense—‘God comes.’ This is a continuous present, an ever-continuous action: it happened, it is happening now and it will happen again. At every moment, ‘God comes.’ It is a theological verb that proclaims one of God’s essential and qualifying features: that He is the “God-who-comes.”

As Christians whose hearts are open to the reality of God, we are now invited to grow in our capacity to recognize and celebrate the many signs of His presence that God has concealed in the very fabric of life.  In Mat. 24:42 Jesus tells us to “keep watch, because you do not know on what day your Lord will come.”  Though this obviously refers to Jesus’ final return, these words also invite us to keep watch every day for the continuous “coming” of Jesus in our lives.