Godspacelight

Meditation Monday – Anchored in Wonder

Mon, 21 Sep 2020 08:08:57 GMT

by Christine Sine

This has been a hard week for me, probably the hardest since the pandemic began. The air quality in Seattle has been at hazardous levels much of the week, and though it is now only “poor” it is still enough for those of us who are sensitive to smoke, to feel the effects. Of course, others have had it much worse and I grieve with my friends in California and Oregon, many of whom have not only had to deal with the hazardous air but have also had to evacuate their homes. Some have lost their homes in the rapidly moving wildfires.

Seattle Skyline – photographer unknown

One interesting comment from a participant in the Wonder in the Trauma Healing Process webinar last Wednesday was recognizing the link between lament and wonder. Shortly after the session, I received an email from a participant commenting that Rabbi Abraham Heschel, one of the 20th century’s leading Jewish theologians and one of my heroes, emphasizes the need to begin and remain anchored in wonder in order to deal with the pain in the world. So, he felt I “was in very strong company”. Anchoring ourselves in wonder really does help us cope with the trauma of our world and that has certainly been my experience this week.

Wonder Changes Our Perspective on Life.

Wonder changes our perspective on life. It opens us to surprise, anticipation, unpredictability, celebration and mystery, replacing the rigidity of fear and anxiety with flexibility and joy. It enables us to imagine new life, new opportunities and the possibility of new beginnings definitely something that we all need to do at the present time. I think that one of the great benefits of wonder is that it helps us to look not at the pain but through the pain to God’s comforting and strengthening presence. It enables us to hold onto hope when everything around us seems hopeless.

Over the last six months, I have become an increasingly strong advocate for the power of wonder as a healing tool. Initially it was my awe and wonder walks – wandering the neighborhood with the wide-eyed wonder of a child- that has provided my greatest wonder inducing practice, but in the last few weeks, and especially this week as the air quality plummeted, I have found myself stretching for something more. The creation and use of my beach combing garden has enabled me to both delight and grieve. It has been one tool that has been a constant support for me. This week it has been my circling exercise that has provided my greatest stability. Each morning, I light my candles and feel the embracing presence of God around me, and then imagine it extending out to friends and neighbours, to strangers near and far, and radiating out to the whole world. Knowing that God embraces all creation is both awe inspiring and strengthening.

What I realize is that all of these are expressions of an embodied faith – not just praying with words but with our whole body and our actions as well. Incorporating our senses and our actions into our spiritual practices is awe inspiring. It helps us reach for the wholeness hidden deep within and brings us to a place of healing.

What Is Your Response?

Sit for a few minutes with your eyes closed and consider where you have found strength and stability this week. What has enabled you to maintain flexibility and resilience in the midst of our increasingly traumatic world? What new creative practices could help you not only connect to the wonder of God’s world, but also help you find healing and stability in the process?

Not Too Late to Join Us.

Wednesday, we will hold another Wonder in the Trauma Healing Process webinar. I hope that you can join us.

Wonder in the Trauma Healing Process with Christine Sine – 9/23/20

FREE, September 23 @ 11:00 am – 12:00 pm PDT (Use time zone converter for your time zone)

Find out more

Contemplative Service with Taizé Music from St Andrew’s Episcopal Church Seattle

Sat, 19 Sep 2020 23:06:21 GMT

It is time once more for all of us too rest and take a Sabbath. I know that for many of us contemplative services like this one from St Andrews with Taizé style music become a wonderful focus for refreshing and renewing our spirits. This service for the Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost does just that for us.

Carrie Grace Littauer, prayer leader, with music by Kester Limner and Andy Myers.

Permission to podcast/stream the music in this service obtained from One License with license #A-710-756 with additional notes below.

“Raboni, Beloved,” – By Kester Limner and Andy Myers, shared under the Creative Commons License, Attribution (CC-BY).

“Kyrie for September 20th” – Text and music by Kester Limner, shared under the Creative Commons License, Attribution (CC-BY).

“On Christ the Solid Rock,” – Public domain hymn, arrangement and additional verse by Kester Limner Shared under the Creative Commons License, Attribution (CC-BY)

Reflecting in and Knowing Your Place

Sat, 19 Sep 2020 08:00:22 GMT

by Lisa DeRosa

Home. What does that word mean to you? What feelings are elicited from its utterance?

Taking a small step outside, how about neighborhood? Are these feelings different? Maybe more distant? Or maybe community is a synonym for your thoughts about neighborhood?

Continue to extend this thought experiment out to city/town, region, country, continent, world, and universe. How connected do you feel as it broadens and the distance increases?

In thinking about where I currently live and my sense of place, this year has drawn me to really take notice of my surroundings. I left my place of work over two and a half years ago, not knowing what God was going to provide next. After a journey of several months trying this job and that job, I began working for Christine and Tom starting in February this year. It is the shortest commute I could ever imagine because I live in their basement unit. So living where I do and working at home regardless of Covid, I have structured my day to include excursions out into the garden and plenty of walks around the neighborhood. In these walks, I witness the Black Lives Matter posters, the teddy bears in the windows, the vegetables that neighbors are growing, the kiddos that thank the garbage man every Thursday, the empty little free libraries… and I wonder to myself, how am I impacting my neighborhood? Or am I, even?

As the air quality has been particularly unhealthy over the last two weeks here in Seattle, I have not ventured outside much. Feeling the effects of the smoke in the air as well as the lack of fresh air, sunshine, and exercise, I feel as though I am disconnected from my place. Inside, home is still the same, but I haven’t walked around the neighborhood or nearby park, explored the garden to smell the flowers or pick raspberries for two weeks now. And I miss it.

With Covid restrictions and the fires taking over the West coast, I know others are struggling to find their sense of sanity through their normal coping mechanisms of walking outside, grabbing coffee with a friend, hosting a gathering in their home, etc. Others are having to evacuate their place without knowing if they will have anything to return to. That is the reality for so many right now and I pray for all those involved from the victims to the fire fighters.

In reflecting on your sense of place, where you are right now in this moment? Are you present? Do you feel connected to your surroundings?

This idea of place has been radically challenged for me in reading and listening to Dwight Friesen and Tom Sine talk about their newest book, 2020s Foresight: Three Vital Practices for Thriving in a Decade of Accelerating Change. A section in the book on reflecting on and knowing your place reads:

“You are not everywhere. You are somewhere. You may have moved many times or lived on the same plot of land your whole life. You are somewhere right now. There is a place you call home. Your place is God’s gift to you and those who share it with you. Your place is your teacher. Your place doesn’t force itself on you; it is the kind of teacher that whispers to you. It invites you to slow down and listen. It woos you to mindful attention to the impact of your foot-prints. It bids you to notice and seek communion with all its inhabitants. Place is the platform to discover the real. The primary thing place teaches, if we will listen, is faithful presence.” (2020s Foresight, 176-177)

The notion of slowing down and listening hit home during the first few months of our “stay home, stay safe” order. It forced me to schedule all plans as possibilities, stop traveling, and stay in my place. So I could really listen. So I could hear the sounds of the birds, not muffled by the sounds of traffic or planes overhead. To listen to the sound of the rain falling on the leaves in the garden. And listen to the sirens of first responders helping those in need.

Listening to, reflecting on, and knowing your place allows the opportunity for God to move not only in your heart and your home, but in your neighborhood as your sense of place extends outside of just your dwelling space.

I am grateful for Tom and Dwight sharing their insights with me as I have worked with them, but also that they share them in their book. The examples given are of real people, living in real places, who have reflected on and know the place God has them in as they seek to positively impact their neighborhood. How are you impacting your neighborhood? Or are you?

If you have thoughts about this, please comment. I am looking for creative ways to love the people in my place, too.

FreerangeFriday: Amazon Box Prayer Practices

Fri, 18 Sep 2020 07:01:49 GMT

by Lilly Lewin

During these months of “sheltering in place” and staying home when possible, I have noticed the abundance of delivery vehicles that go up and down my street. I work and write in my dining room and I have big windows to take in the view and my dog Jake is definitely aware of each truck and the various sound of their engines. He let’s me know when they are invading our space!

We’ve done a lot of our shopping on line. Some grocery delivery but other things like books, and running shoes arrive in brown boxes some with a smiley swoosh on the side.

This got me thinking about praying with these boxes….and inspired my prayer practice this week!

OPEN THE BOX

GRAB A BOX TO PRAY WITH or the next time you receive a box in the mail, save it as a prayer tool.

Open the box…consider what is inside.

Was it what you were expecting?

Was it different?

A lot of this year has felt like an unexpected package. One that has arrived with out return address and one we never would have ordered ourselves!

Yet there have been gifts in this crazy year.

And opportunities to open new boxes and receive new things.

What’s the GIFT of this crazy year of 2020 and COVID 19? What have you learned? How have you grown?

Consider the last few months…opening each month as a box or package…

What were you expecting? What actually arrived? Take some time to pray over your last few months…

Where did you see God at work and feel God’s presence?

Where did you feel God’s absence or miss what God was doing and need to reset?

Ask the Holy Spirit to help you remember. Look back at your calendar, phone, instagram feed, or your pics and see what Jesus has been doing in your life.

Take time to thank him.

Jesus has been with you in the joys and in the sorrows.

In the losses and in the wins.

You might print out some pictures to remind you of the gifts of this season.

Or write down some memories of what you’ve experienced and felt along the way.

EMPTY BOXES:

Maybe like me you’ve ended up with lots of empty boxes.

Things needing to be recylcled or maybe returned.

Maybe there are lots of things you’d like to return from 2020 if you could!

Talk to Jesus about these things.

Allow Jesus to have them and hold them for you!

What are the empty boxes in your life ?

The losses, the missed opportunities you need to process and mourn and really look at with Jesus?

Are you willing to let Jesus have the empty boxes to recycle or even burn them up or trash them?

Will you let Jesus have your grief and your loss?

Spend some time talking to Jesus about this.

What are you learning?

What are you missing?

What hasn’t arrived on time?

What has been an unexpected gift, a bonus even in the grief?

You might want to physically do this…write on an empty box the losses and frustrations of these past few months.

Stomp on the box…get out your pain.

Tell Jesus how you are hurting.
He knows you and sees you and loves you so much!

He wants to carry these empty boxes for you!

Or if it’s safe in your area, break up the box and burn it.

PASSING ON THE GIFT

PASSING ON THE GIFT:

Pray for the delivery people who come to your home or drive by where you live when you notice their trucks.

Pray for those in the warehouses who are working behind the scenes.

Pray for those shopping for others

Who may feel afraid but still need the money.

You might leave a thank you note on your door or in your mailbox /postbox to thank those who deliver all the boxes.

Who can you send a package or a card to brighten their day?

Could you create a care box, care package for a friend or neighbor or family member you haven’t seen or who might need cheering up in this crazy season?

Pray for post office & mail carriers.

Next time a box, or package arrives, as you open it, consider what Jesus is inviting you to be open to in this new day, in this season of continued uncertainty. Ask Jesus to show you!

Author CS Lewis said that you cannot receive new things from God if you are carrying too many packages! If our hands are filled with too many packages, too many old things, we cannot receive the new gifts from God. Take some time to consider the many things, the many packages you’ve been carrying during this season of covid. And put them down so you can receive the new gifts God has for you!

Lord Jesus

Help us to receive the gifts you have for us during this crazy season!

Help us to take the time to process the good gifts as well as the ones we’d like to return.

Give us your grace to pass on the gift of love and forgiveness to our family, our neighbors and those with whom we disagree.

Help us give good gifts to one another. Boxes and Packages of love, grace, compassion, and forgiveness.

Help us to open these boxes and receive this for ourselves as well.

AMEN

©lillylewin and freerangeworship.com

I Am Green…

Thu, 17 Sep 2020 08:00:54 GMT

by Kate Kennington Steer, all images by Kate Kennington Steer

As I mentioned in a previous post for Godspace written in 2016, I have long been fascinated by and inspired by Hildegard of Bingen (1098-1179), not least because despite her struggles with persistent ill health, she was a writer, a composer, a scientist, a preacher, a prophetic visionary, and an Abbess of two Benedictine convents; and because, for me, she personifies what I called back in 2016 ‘expressive strength in creative weakness’. Here’s my concluding passage from that post:

It seems to me that it takes a very particular type of strong personality to be able to continue to live a creative, fruitful, flourishing life in the service of God and others; and that such a life-force is only found in those whose strength is based on a recognition of their absolute vulnerability and powerlessness. For Hildegard this life-force came from what she idiosyncratically identified as ‘viriditas’, a ‘greening’ of the spirit that forms the innate connection between God’s goodness in the heart and God’s goodness in the earth; a connection Hildegard personifies as Grace. ‘Greening’ is the epitome of God’s blessing to those God loves… As I struggle to find ways in which I might join every day with the Creator in creating and healing, Hildegard’s expressive, exuberant celebration of the ways in which we may all still be greened continues to echo down the centuries to encourage me this day.

During the COVID-19 Lockdown, I have returned to actively thinking about viriditas as part of my ongoing #projectgreen: an intentional, slow, gradual, mindful multimedia exploration of the colour green, asking what might I learn from its associations and usages (both traditional and modern), and what do I need to notice about the presence and absence of this colour in my life at this time?

Philip Larkin, in a line from his poem ‘The Trees’, wrote, ‘their greenness is a kind of grief’. This pinpoints an association that has been humming through my writings this summer, as I have charted the Sun’s arc, and marked moments of particular turning and potential thresholds of revelation. I realise that, as my attention has shifted through the building of light and its affect on the intensity of greens surrounding and greeting me in my Mum’s garden, that once I was past the zenith of the Summer Solstice, I have been looking at green in a (literally) different light, as darkness begins to make its presence felt round the edges of each day as the peak of the season passes. It sounds so obvious to say green is not a homogeneous entity, a single universally understood colour. Nor, of course, is light. My late Summer light is not the same even across the northern hemisphere, let alone the light experienced on other continents enjoying different seasons. Something of this found its way into ‘blank green’, a poem found from the words of my journaled reflections on this collage I made:

and suddenly there is no such thing as a blank green

see the paper crinkled by blued glue into
precipitous mountain top passes
and plunging crevasses the shape of a missing
plate framing bokehed sun shapes
masking whatever is currently unseen
glimpse rust flakes becoming moss trails over flocked rocks inviting me to clamber into depths of evergreen
rich darkness enfolding me in forest
hear its promise to hold me in pined perfume
setting me down on the winding track into untold lostness

or perhaps only as far as the blue pool
where my yesness continues to echo off sunbaked

clay banks and the Spirit’s hovering ripples water
in a constant play of eddy and still in delight unhesitating I plunge along the ridge of upturned leaf stirring minute hairs freed from dew

parting to reveal a stippled pathway of midgreens leading me on past the comfort of High Windows and Larkin’s words of baptism in light
over the whale’s crustacean enhanced hide

onto the uneven terrain of the seabed itself where murk and shadow disrobe what light may veil

until I am spouted upward propelled into sky

until a rail steadies me
onto a look out over the aura borealis
a swirl of pea green against unimaginable layers of receding blueback purpled at the edges

until returning to present I am pierced again
by the stripes of the tongued plant
(though lacking a mother-in-law how can I know
its’ true speech?) I traverse the hinterland of understanding as it dips into hollows of familiar yellow and dances along blazing minty ice cream heat heights

reaching past the softmeadow grass and the friable hayfield into unexplored tropics extended fans and
upside down paintbrush trees mirrored
in jewelled swimming pools transfigured emerald

against a jungled sky

until here in this coolness
here where I am overshadowed by such unfamiliar shapes here may I rest

This kind of welding of written and visual expression is something that speaks intently to me (as the name for my blog imageintoikon suggests). It is the path I wish to explore in future works, even if for the moment I needs must be content with an A4 collage made in bed, doodles made beside scribbles in a journal that is almost never beyond arm’s reach. Again, this brings me back to the tensions that Hildegard lived with: the reach of her earthly ambitions were tempered by persistent ill health, and yet, her trusting perception of viriditas beyond the surface of all things, is what helps me, hundreds of years later, see the ‘greening power of God suffusing all life and creation’:

Viriditas is the force sustaining life each moment, bringing newness to birth. It is a marvellous image of the divine power continuously at work in the world, juicy and fecund … The prophet Isaiah writes that “the wilderness and the dry land shall be glad, the desert shall rejoice and blossom; like the crocus it shall blossom abundantly, and rejoice with joy and

singing” (Is 35.1-2) This abundant blossoming is the provenance of viriditas. We are called to wander through the desert tending to the abundant gifts of viriditas, the creative life-force of everything alive. Hildegard’s wisdom is for living a life that is fruitful and green and overflowing with verdancy. She calls us to look for fecundity in barren places …

(original emphases)(Christine Valters Paintner, Illuminating the Way, 161-2, 164, 170)

In one of her books of visions, the Liber Vitae Meritorum, Hildegard receives a dialogue between two characters: Heavenly Joy and Worldly Sadness. In the opinion of Heavenly Joy, Worldly Sadness is sad because she does not ‘observe the sun and moon and stars and all the decoration of the greenness [viriditas] of the earth and consider how much prosperity God gives man with these things’. By contrast, of herself Heavenly Joy says:

“I possess heaven, since all that God created, and which you call noxious, I observe in its true light. I gently collect the blossoms of roses and lilies and all greenness [viriditas] in my lap since I praise all the works of God, while you attract sorrows to you because you are dolorous in all your works.”

Hildegard’s viriditas reminds me to notice the gifts I am given in the ordinary details of my life around
me. Viriditas reminds me that the Spirit always waits in readiness to ‘green’ my soul’s barren places and our planet’s damaged earth. There is always hope within viriditas. In the action of the Spirit’s ‘greening’ I am becoming who God longs for me to be. In the light that is itself a gift, I am called to notice and collect together the incidents of greening around about me, like where ‘moss trails over flocked rocks/ inviting me to clamber into depths of evergreen’. The Spirit’s ‘greening’ invites me to open my eyes, to see where the Spirit ‘sets me down’ to find even more green, and though at first I may appear surrounded by ‘lostness’, the ongoing ‘greening’ of my soul promises always to lead me into the heart of God’s calling for me.

So perhaps this is the key to both viriditas and #projectgreen: they symbolise the continual flow of emergence and re-emergence of gratefulness in me, which inexorably leads me to pause to praise my Maker the Great Artist, with thanksgiving in my heart, before I move on, powered by viriditas, into the day God lays before me, welcoming whatever it may bring. Today, using Hildegard’s words of praise of the Holy Spirit, I ask that viriditas will bless us this day, and all the days to come:

Out of you clouds
come streaming, winds
take wing from you, dashing
rain against stone;
and ever-fresh springs
well from you, washing
the evergreen globe [terra viriditatem].

(From ‘O ignis Spiritus Paracliti’ (trans Barbara Newman Symphony of the Harmony of Celestial Revelations, 148-151))

[an extended version of this post (with more examples of #projectgreen) can be found at imageintoikon.com)

A More Excellent Way?; A Poem

Wed, 16 Sep 2020 08:00:09 GMT

Catherine Lawton shares this poem with us as an encouragement and welcome to discernment today. May we take the time to prayerfully consider and listen to the stirrings of the Spirit today. Allow yourself to settle in your place, be present, take a deep breath and read the poem below once or several times.

by Catherine Lawton

When I was a child, I
prayed like a child
to God above,
folding hands
closing eyes
repeating words
talking to Jesus.
Not knowing
the soft wind
whispering,
branches lifting
were also prayer.
When I learned
to listen with
Spirit-pierced ear
my prayers became
shorter but more
continuous.
Recently,
the gaze—
eye to eye
heart to heart—
blends praise
confession
lamentation
supplication
waiting
knowing
resting
in One.

~Catherine Lawton

(from the 2020 book, Glimpsing Glory: Poems of Living & Dying, Praying & Playing, Belonging & Longing)

The Rock Cleft; A Poem

Tue, 15 Sep 2020 08:00:29 GMT

by Ana Lisa de Jong

When your glory passes by
we have to find a rock cleft.

You are so often seen in the
blink between the eye’s lashes,

the space between words,

the sprouting green from the cracks
on the pavement.

And when your glory passes by

we are not having a party,
but hidden, shielded.

All your goodness is too much for us.

And instead, we think,
‘what was that?’

Like a lightening fork in the dark,
or a touch so brief, hard to discern.

But we stretch it out
in our thoughts, imagination,

that the touch or sliver of light
becomes enough

to illuminate our days,
and our nights –

though they might be spent
in the cleft of a rock.

Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
May 2020

‘Then Moses said, “Now show me your glory.”
And the Lord said, “I will cause all my goodness to pass in front of you, and I
will proclaim my name, the Lord, in your presence. I will have mercy on whom I
will have mercy, and I will have compassion on whom I will have compassion.
But,” he said, “you cannot see my face, for no one may see me and live.”
Then the Lord said, “There is a place near me where you may stand on a rock.
When my glory passes by, I will put you in a cleft in the rock and cover you
with my hand until I have passed by.
Then I will remove my hand and you will see my back; but my face must not be seen.”’
Exodus 33

For more poems for Ana Lisa de Jong, check out the free downloads available in our store:

Meditation Monday – A Circle of Light

Mon, 14 Sep 2020 08:58:20 GMT

by Christine Sine

Over the last couple of weeks, I have started my day by lighting a circle of candles around me. Like the Celts of old, I love circles and circling prayers and often incorporate these in my spiritual practices. At this time of year, as we approach the solstice, I often greet the dawn with the soft glow of the sunrise reflected on the Olympic mountains outside my window, and say goodbye to the day with the even more breathtaking colors of the sunset over the mountains. It makes me feel as though I am indeed surrounded by God’s light. God’s embracing presence gives me strength, comfort and security in the midst of the ongoing trauma of our world.

My interest in circles as an expression of faith came from Celtic Christians who lived between the 5th & 8th centuries. They believed that a circle, with no break, created a complete whole, affording no access to the devil.

Monasteries were often surrounded by a circle of crosses declaring that the space within was sacred and different – dedicated to God and claimed as a place where God met people who were offered sanctuary and hospitality.” The Celtic Resource Book Martin Wallace

As I sit in my circle of light, I feel that same sacred presence surrounding and sustaining me. I close my eyes and draw an imaginary circle in front of me as I describe in this exercise adapted from a traditional circling prayer or CAIM. As I did so, I was reminded of a quote by Hermes Trismegistus that I came across recently:

God is a circle whose centre is everywhere and whose circumference is nowhere.”

I interpret this to mean that each of us is centered in the presence of God and that God’s presence moves out from us to embrace everyone and everything. There is no boundary to God’s presence or to God’s love. Nothing can extinguish the light of God. It might be hidden as it is presently behind the blanket of smoke that the winds are sweeping towards us from the fires in California, Oregon and Washington. It might fade into darkness as the sun fades into night, but it is always there. It is always waiting for the right time to reappear. Wow, what a wonderful thought to begin the day with.

As I reflected on this a few days ago, I was reminded of another time I wrote about the emerging light of God and a saying attributed to an ancient monk:

How do we know when the dawn has come? Is it when we can see the mountains clearly? No. Is it when we can see a dog or a cat nearly in the emerging light? No. It is when we can see in another the face of God. That is when the dawn has surely come.”

As I pondered all of this over the last few days, the following prayer bubbled up within me. I have been using it each morning as part of my candle lighting ritual. I have found it to be a wonderful way to start the day, aware that not only do I stand at the centre of God’s love, but that I also provide a centre for God’s love out of which others can be touched and embraced with divine light and love.

Today, we stand in God’s circle of light,
Breathing in, breathing out.
Today we stand in God’s circle of light,
Light before, light behind,
Light on left, light on right,
Light buried deep within.
Today, we stand in God’s circle of light,
With friends and family, neighbours and strangers,
With all the people of the world.
Together we stand in God’s everlasting light.
Encircled, embraced,
United into one family,
From every nation and culture and creed.
Let this circle hold us,
Let this circle sustain us,
Let this circle surround us,
With the bright and shiny presence
Of the Eternal One,
Who leads us into light.

Contemplative Taize Style Service From St Andrews For September 13, 2020

Sat, 12 Sep 2020 22:57:12 GMT

Here is today’s contemplative service from St Andrews in Seattle. Find a quiet place, light a candle and enjoy.

A contemplative service with music in the style-of-Taize for the Fifteenth Sunday after Pentecost.

Carrie Grace Littauer, prayer leader, with music by Kester Limner and Andy Myers.

Permission to podcast/stream the music in this service obtained from One License with license #A-710-756 with additional notes below. “

“Kyrie for September 13th” – Text by Kester Limner, Music by Andy Myers, shared under the Creative Commons License, Attribution (CC-BY)