A Holy Experience

Last week I was riding my bike, downhill, so it's not work. The sun was out and warm and the day was beautiful with the promise of spring. My friends and I were just talking about how God is present, all day everywhere, and the only limitation to my interaction with God is myself: my awareness, my thoughts, my intention.

I thought, "How often am I really paying attention to God's movement in my little meverse?" (That's the universe, centered around and interacting with me. I know it's not a thing, but admit it, we all have a meverse.) Sure, I see amazing beautiful things and sometimes I will stop, for a second, and thank God. In pain and crisis I cry out to God. Sometimes, when something really silly or poignant happens, I look up and say, "God, I see what you did there." We have that kind of relationship, where I point out to him the great laugh that we are about to share. But those are momentary, fleeting snippets of my day. What I really want is what Jesus called abiding -- consciously resting in and being fully aware of God in everything, every day.

Which brings me back to the bike. I was sitting there, just marveling at how perfect it was: the wind in my hair, the trees and flowers, and I thought, "This is a holy experience." And then I wondered about the word holy. Here I am a week later, still thinking about that word -- holy.

So I looked it up in the dictionary. You know, sometimes the dictionary is no help at all. All the dictionary gives is references to stuff dedicated for a religious purpose or to God. The dictionary knows that holiness has something to do with God, but has no clue what that is. I know that one of God's characteristics is holiness, that His goal for my life is holiness, but what is it??

I think holiness may be that door in our minds that we open to be aware of God. Think about it for a minute.  A holy place is one where we experienced God  (or someone else did generations ago). A holy experience is one in which we (for lack of a better word) "feel" God's presence. The whole key to holiness is awareness and recognition of God -- his character, his presence, his activity.

Which means that holiness is not just a mystery -- though there is plenty of mystery in the whole thing, but it's also something I can grow. Want a holy job? Choose to open the door in your mind to God while you work. Talk over tasks with Him, ask for wisdom in making decisions, or dealing with that co worker, or staying on task. Want a holy family? Choose to open your mind to including God as part of your family. Give Him a seat at the table, literally or figuratively. Go on walks to the park with Him and show Him your favorite parts of His creation. Want a holy experience?
Conscientiously choose to be aware of God.

Now, I'm not saying that this is as simple as flipping on a switch. It's more like exercising a muscle. The more you do it, the easier it becomes. Here's a simple start. David says in a poem he wrote that, "The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands." So start there, in nature. It's a common place that religious (and non-religious people for that matter) find holiness. Look at the skies and try to see beyond them as you consider the vastness of God. Examine a flower and know the intricacies of God. Observe a sunset and marvel at the artistry of God. Watch a bug fly and think about the creativity and engineering mind of God. Make it a game -- what do I see about God from what I observe in nature. 

Warning -- not everything in nature is representative of God. Remember that sin has messed things up pretty good, in humanity more than anything else. Start with what you know about God and work from there. If you don't know much about God, read about Him in the Bible -- maybe start in the Psalms. There's lots of emotions and relating to God in those. Or look at Jesus. God with skin on.

One last thought. As I look at nature I see lots of paradoxes -- opposites that are both true. Great scope and vastness, intricate detail and minute planning, creativity and order, joy in pain, and I think that's also a characteristic of God. God embraces the paradox: death to create life, spilled blood that cleanses. And when we embrace the paradox too, we can see God in a clearer way.

I don't mean to make God merely human, as we give Him traits and characteristics that we can identify with. Actually, in this process, God is making us more human. More like he designed us to be. In tune with Him and the world He put us in. In a word, holy.
   

Garbage

I was out walking with my friend today. As we caught up on each other's lives, she told me that she sensed change coming, but she didn't know what and she didn't know how, and she most certainly didn't know when. A word from God, a desire from her heart, a change in location, a change in vocation, all these rumblings of something bigger on the horizon-- a fuzzy horizon. Full of promise and sparkle, but oh, so tricky to make out the details.

As we walked along, I noticed a discarded water bottle, laying in the grass. I thought to myself that I should pick it up. I wasn't there to clean up garbage, and there was no nearby container to place it in. I told myself that later I would come back for the bottle. We walked on, talking of choices, of leaving doors open and taking steps forward, even if you don't know where forward is exactly.

Another empty water bottle appeared in our path. This one I picked up. I can hold one water bottle while I walk. I don't want to be a garbage lady, hands overfull with the discarded refuse of the neighborhood, but I can take care of this one small thing. Do my part, so to speak, in the care of creation.

We'd been walking through the park a while, I thought we'd seen most everything. But just a moment later I saw, under the bridge, an abandoned plastic bag. When I saw the bag, everything just made sense. It's as if God set the first bottle in my path to start me thinking. Put the second one nearby to see if I would act. Once I did, God knew that I could take His hint. He put the bag in the stream and said, "Do this for me today."

So I did.

Together we delighted in the discovery of the bag (who does that, really?). My friend pointed out the first bottle we had seen and added it to the bag. We found a wrapper, a broken ring, a couple other little bits. It felt good to do something to help make the place beautiful. It was nice to see how it all came together. At the end of our walk, I took it to the trash can. No big deal.

Except it was a big deal. It is a metaphor for the very thing we were talking about. Often in life's path, God will place a little something in your path. It may or it may not change anything. But it may be a hint of what's to come. A little later you will find a similarity, maybe something small that spurs you to action.

I think God is continually hinting at us what our lives could be like if we could just see what's right in front of us. Instead of being so focused on the big picture (What career should I pursue? Who should I marry? Where should I live? How do I become famous?) what if we just looked at what's around us and took action when we notice a pattern? Embracing those patterns are the building blocks of our lives: our passions, our dreams, our attempts to make the world a better place.

And when the time is right, God will give us the bag, the piece that holds it all together. We can look back and say, "Oh, God this life is beautiful, but I don't know how I got here." And He will say, "You just followed me, step by step and this beauty is the result."

Missed the Boat

Here it comes, tall and beautiful and romantic. The boat that promises an adventure of a lifetime. Smelling of exotic spices and warm breezes. The travelers on this boat show joy for the journey they are on, almost inviting you to join them just by their enthusiasm and contentment.


Do you even wonder if you should have climbed aboard? Let go of the fear of the unknown, the safety of the shore, the predictability of life on land? Would you be a different person? Lived in another place? Had different priorities?


Not that all boats are what they seem. Though you may think you know the destination, sailors get lost at sea. Weather can mean a detour, even an alternate end point. If you do ultimately arrive, the storms along the route can leave you feeling worn, washed up, adrift. You could get sea sick, sunburnt, or harmed by the dangers of the sea.


So why go at all?


Watching life from the shore is beautiful. The waves crash against the shore, but never overwhelm you. Boats come and boats go -- some boats you've seen more than once. They will come again. Maybe when you're ready, you can go. Maybe when you've got more money, more time, more courage.


Maybe. . .


Maybe that boat is stopping here today, just to have you aboard. Maybe the people you will meet, or the experience you have on this particular trip will give you the passion you've always wanted in life. Maybe you just need a change of pace, space and perspective that can only come from the boat. Maybe all that trouble is worth it.


So how do you choose?


When the boat arrives, all is anticipation, newness, adventure. the boat's looks can be deceiving. When the boat leaves you behind, you feel, if just for a moment, regret that you are not aboard. Discernment is knowing which boat to get on and when, and how to let the boat pass you by without despair.

One day as Jesus was walking along the shore of the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers—Simon, also called Peter, and Andrew—throwing a net into the water, for they fished for a living.  Jesus called out to them, “Come, follow me, and I will show you how to fish for people!”  And they left their nets at once and followed him.

A little farther up the shore he saw two other brothers, James and John, sitting in a boat with their father, Zebedee, repairing their nets. And he called them to come, too.  They immediately followed him, leaving the boat and their father behind.                                             Matthew 4: 18-21