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Mennonite Brethren Herald • Volume 45, No. 06 • April 28, 2006 |
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As an eldest child growing up on a farm, the responsibility of mowing the lawn fell largely to me. Now for you city people, know that this is a five to eight hour job per week, not a 20-minute stroll in the backyard. I had plenty of time to ponder the mysteries of life and the universe.
One question that particularly stood out to me was, “Are there ways to grow in my faith other than through hard times?” My experience and what I had been taught was the stuff of James 1:2–4: trials, perseverance, maturity. But what about the “in-between” times? Should I ask God for struggles? Discomfort and trials did not sit well in my 12-year-old mind. My teen years brought plenty of difficult times to keep me growing. But in my early 20s I started to wonder again. One day my mom brought home a book from the church library. She said, “People say this book is too weird for the church library so I thought you might like it.” Great, a church library hand-me-down, sure to be a winner, right up there with Jungle Doctor Meets a Lion (last checked out January 10, 1977). The title jumped out at me: I Take Thee, Serenity (Daisy Newman). I read it. I loved it. It’s the story of two college students who visit a long-lost Quaker cousin and who, through Quaker practices of silence and listening to God, find the peace they are looking for. I wanted to learn more but didn’t know where to look next. Filling a seatSix years later, I was out for a rest in my hammock when the phone rang. A pastor and family friend from my hometown was calling to let me know about a course on spiritual direction. They needed more people to run the course; would I fill a seat? All I really knew about this spiritual direction stuff was from reading Madam Guyon and a few other stories of the contemplatives. Those who have read Madam Guyon’s biography will know her life seems, well, repulsive in a sense. Her relationship with God left me feeling unsettled and confused. Some of the earlier contemplatives seemed a little weird, with their desert-living and strange haircuts. Yet, there is something attractive about their lives. They possessed a peace, a calm I had never known or seen in others. I said, yes, I would fill a seat, and signed up. When I arrived at the class that August morning, I felt very uncomfortable. I was the youngest person there by at least 10 years. Then, one of the first things out of our professor’s mouth was: “Growth occurs two ways, through trials and through contemplation.” I sat in shock for several minutes. It was the long-awaited answer to my question. What I learnedI learned about practicing the consciousness examen1 – a series of questions you ask yourself in order to review your day. I learned to pray the Scripture through Lectio Divina (Divine Words), an interactive experience with Scripture, the living and active Word.2 I met with a spiritual direction group, where we interacted with Scripture, waiting on God’s Word in our lives through silence and sharing these revelations with one another. I also began to meet one-on-one with a spiritual director (for an hour each month) to focus on my spiritual life. A year-and-a-half later, I know from my own experience that spiritual growth occurs through contemplation. I could never have imagined the growth. The shiver I feel when a word “shimmers” for me in Lectio Divina, the insights and gratitude I discover through the consciousness examen, the thrill of having a whole hour to focus on my spiritual life with my director, or the restfulness of being in silent communion with others excite me. I feel the joy of really communicating with God! I have to admit, this journey hasn’t been all roses. I am sometimes misunderstood; these practices are a little out of the norm in many Mennonite circles. But those of you who find yourself longing for a reflective candlelit Christmas Eve instead of the usual humourous drama, enjoying the Stations of the Cross at Easter, or speaking with God during a walk through the woods, the way of the contemplatives might be for you. “Be still,” we hear, “and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10). But if you’re walking down the street trying to pick me out, don’t look for a person munching on a snack of wild locusts and honey or wearing a habit. I’m still the small-town Mennonite girl, wearing Skechers and pushing a stroller. Only now I’m breathing my prayers.
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