When Denise and I were on our honeymoon in Ireland (May 2014) I took this picture of Saint Tola’s Cross near Dysert O’Dea Castle. At the top is a fully clothed crucified Christ. Below this is a carving of what is believed to be Bishop/Saint Tola with a pointed mitre. He founded the monastery around 700 CE near the present castle. The cross was erected in the 11th or 12th century. This was my second trip to Ireland and this time I was able to explore the land more fully than before (twelve days versus four). We both fell in love with Ireland, her people, the landscapes, and the history. In many ways it was hard to leave when our visit was over.
If we felt that way after ten days, I can’t even imagine how Columba and his band of twelve felt as they watched their beloved Ireland fade into the distance as they made their way across the sea to what we now know as Scotland. The reasons for his departure are shrouded in mystery as most of the lives of these early saints are. If you want a very good book with exceptional study and insight into Columba and the story of Iona, Ian Bradley’s “Columba: Pilgrim and Penitent” is a great source.
As I read the various stories about Columba from Bradley and other sources, I was struck by the complexity of the man who some say should have been the Patron Saint of Scotland. Here was a monk who had royal blood flowing through his veins. During his time as the Abbot of Iona, Columba was a diplomat, politician, abbot, and priest. He moved in and out of the political arena (with the aim of stopping the bloodshed which ultimately hurt poor folks the most, as it does still today) and seemed to balance the monk and the warrior-aristocrat within.
The emphasis of Columba’s ministry and the monastic ministry of his time was not simply being isolated from the world and saying your daily prayers. Praying the Daily Office, Celebrating Mass, and copying holy books in the Scriptorium were a very important part of their vocation. Examples of the fine work of these Irish monks are with us today in the Book of Kells and the Book of Durrow (which are both housed in the Library of Trinity College in Dublin). However, the ministries of hospitality and presence were equally important in their vocational life.
Ministry of Presence for them was being with the people, not by proselytizing and preaching like so many do today, but by simply being there with the people. Monastic communities were a place of safety and refuge, as well as a place of spiritual and physical care. In Columba’s day, you didn’t build monuments to yourself (thinly veiled as, “oh but we are doing this for the glory of God”), you lived and worshipped in simple, functional spaces. Their huts and churches were built from wood and mud or stone. They were built to be functional, not ostentatious. That was because the monk and the monastic community’s primary duty was to be present to God and present to neighbor.
Continuing to reflect on Columba, I found myself thinking about my own vocation as a military chaplain and now a pastor. In the Air Force Chaplain Corps we had two phrases that were supposed to be touchstones for us. The first was “Ministry of Presence” and the second was “A Visible Reminder of the Holy.” I am as comfortable worshipping in beautiful sanctuaries like the one in the church where I am now serving as pastor (Presbyterian Community Church of the Rockies in Estes Park, Colorado), in an Eleventh Century Church (St Mary’s Parish Church in Croughton, England), or outdoors or in a tent in the middle of nowhere (courtesy of deployments and training exercises with the military). The majority of my ministry was, and continues to be, simply being with and walking with people.
Columba reminds me that serving God is about loving God and loving neighbor. It is about doing justice, loving mercy/kindness, and walking humbly with God to paraphrase Micah 6:8. It is about being with God’s children (ALL of God’s children, not just the ones who think like you). It is about being that visible reminder of the holy.
Are you, dear reader, hearing the call? The call to live differently from the world and yet to live within it? The Christianity of Columba was not about detachment or escape from the world. It was grounded in prayer, Scripture (especially the Psalms which reveal the wide array of human emotions and interactions with God), and action. In the words of Bradley, “Columba calls the church to be political and prophetic, not by making easy moralistic statements but by costly engagement in the world.”
Columba challenges me to constantly re-evaluate my own life and ministry. He challenges me to dig deeper into the spiritual life and to walk boldly into the messiness of the world with the healing balm of Christ. Are you willing to let him challenge you?
Biblical spirituality says there is still a source that reveals the voice of the living God. It asserts that God is not done with the business of revelation and creation but instead continues to have something to say and something yet to be accomplished in the very culture that isn’t sure if God is done speaking. We have muted, muffled and, in some cases, silenced the voice of God because we have forgotten to listen in the ways and places where God’s voice has always been heard. I hope to recover a way of practicing spirituality that has been silenced for some because we have lost our listening; we need to re-create another way of listening. And I confess, I am not only a product of a culture that silenced the thunder of God’s voice; I have myself done it for others. I don’t sit in any seat outside looking in from a comfortable perch; I have helped to foster practices and a culture of silence.
In an earlier time of my life, there was a question that blared its answer on radio, TV, magazines, pulpits and talk shows across North America. Started as a question in academia, it soon was asked on street corners and in libraries, coffee shops and offices: “Is God dead?” Philosophers, theologians and curious on-lookers concluded yes. I listened in on the conversations too, and I wondered: Did God pass away in the night, or over the centuries as humankind outgrew our need for an all-powerful deity? Did God die because we found new technologies, medications and innovations to replace God as creator, healer and redeemer? It never seemed to me to be a question about God as much as about people. . . .
Even in Seattle, a city nourished by what I call REI spirituality, a coalition of environmentalism, social consciousness and tolerance for all differences, I still find a hunger for something that isn’t filled by our care of Mother Earth or the poor or certain other marginalized peoples. Perhaps the question in our day is no longer “Is God dead?” but “Where can God’s voice be heard?” Most people aren’t really fooled by the notion that humanity is all that exists, that humanity is the final answer to the questions asked across the centuries. I find that most people are hungry for something more, something deeper, something beyond. In my experience most people believe that God is alive, but they wonder if God has lost his voice. Sermons speak of almost everything except a continuing conversation with a living God. Books, articles, blogs and social media are full of the continuing search for the Spirit that has been our human quest from the beginning; we readily speak about God or for God when it seems our longing is to speak with God.
Where can God’s voice be heard today? Some say God’s voice can only be heard in the Bible, where the history of what God said is recorded, as if God cut off all communication after the early second century. Others believe God can only be heard in human-to-human relationships, as if the transcendent God of the ages can no longer speak for God’s own self. For some there is a notion that God can only be heard through educated and certified voices trained in special ways that authorize their words, as if God’s voice must be filtered through certain people. And some say that God can only be heard through rituals, liturgies or gatherings where particular forms contain the voice of God, as if God’s exclusive concern is with religion, worship, sermons, praise choruses and hymns.
You can tell that I’m not buying any of this because there was One who showed us another way to listen. His name was Yeshua, or Jesus as he is known to most of us. Early followers made outrageous claims that he not only spoke for God but he knew God and even was God wrapped up in a human body, which certainly complicates things. The entire weight of the Bible tilts the story to him. It says that Jesus knew something we need:
He was in the world,
the world was there through him,
and yet the world didn’t even notice.
He came to his own people,
but they didn’t want him.
But whoever did want him,
who believed he was who he claimed
and would do what he said,
He made to be their true selves,
their child-of-God selves. (John 1:10-12 The Message)
Jesus is the pattern or archetype of spirituality as it shapes people into our “child-of-God selves.” A teacher named Paul said, “He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation. . . . For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell” (Colossians 1:15, 19). Listening for the voice of God is not simply waiting for an audible voice; it is also spending time in the presence of the teacher, Jesus, whose teaching speaks loud enough for all of us to hear.
Today’s post is taken from chapter one, “Resonance” of Keith Anderson’s book The Spirituality of Listening.
By Andy Wade –
Sometimes we can’t listen because we won’t slow down. I wrote this poem several years ago but it seemed somehow appropriate for our series on listening.
If we take time to listen, we’ll find wisdom, wonder and poetry in the lives and stories of the people all around us…. we all want to know our lives have mattered and we won’t ever be forgotten…. listening is an act of love. Dave Islay Listening is an Act of Love.
This week as part of my reading discipline on listening I have delved into Dave Islay’s book Listening Is an Act of Love, in which he recounts some of the stories gathered through the Storycorps project, in which people across America were given the opportunity to share the stories of their lives.
As I read the book and watched the video below, I started to wonder: Where do I hear the stories of ordinary people in everyday life? As I sat and thought about this I realized it is mainly through Facebook. The sharing of joys and heartache, of family photos and garden beauty, the ask for prayers of healing, strength for the day, sustenance in the grief of death all speak of longing to have our stories acknowledged by others. We all want to know that our stories matter to others and to God.
The question is: how many of us truly listen. To be honest sometimes I am a little overwhelmed by what I read and I need to listen selectively, but I also want my friends to know that their lives do matter and I care about their stories.
With Niki Foster Hibbert April 2015
Paying Attention to My Special Facebook Friend Niki.
One of the most beautiful and poignant stories I have followed on Facebook is that of the life and death of my friend Niki Foster Hibbert. When Niki was diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer in September 2014 she started a Facebook group Seasons of Grace, with the intention of posting 1,000 daily moments of her story and the grace of God in the midst of it.Niki and her family came to Seattle in April last year on a memory creating trip to Disneyland, as well as to visit many of her far flung Mercy Ship family. I relish that visit and the wonderful memories I will always have of Niki from it.
Sadly Niki only managed 556 of her hoped for 1,000 posts. On March 27th 2016 she breathed her last and went to be with the Lord. In her 555th post she said:
Sometimes God asks us to do hard things, things we get to mull on and ponder over and pray about. Sometimes hard things are just given to us, laid on our laps almost. No rhyme or reason, no instruction manual with 15 steps to follow, no emergency landing strip lighting the way and telling us where to go.
At times like this we often come to a cross-road in our life … And even more so, in our faith, a faith that was typified by being rock solid has had a wee shake, and with the shake come questions – unanswerable questions “Why?” Is there ever really an answer to that? I understand why people ask those questions, and sometimes I want to ask and sometimes I just don’t want to know what the answer is.
I guess for me the journey has always been about having enough grace for each day. I think it’s a little like God when he sent manna daily from heaven to feed Moses and the Israelites (Ex 16). It was a provision for that day only (apart from the day before the Sabbath when they had to gather enough for the Sabbath as well). This provision sustained and nourished them. It must have also confirmed to the Israelites that God remembered them, how could he forget! His eye was still upon them.
I think God’s grace is like that too. It is there for me, all I have to do is expect the provision from God and go get it. This journey is mine alone, and God’s grace is for me. There are lots of family and friends walking, kneeling, alongside me, but their journey is different, the grace that they need is different … they are not me. They need to draw on their own grace for each moment of each day, and I need my own portion too. Daily. Fresh grace every day, fresh manna every day. And the only one who can do that for us is our precious Heavenly Father. With outstretched arms he draws us to himself and tops our diminishing grace-tanks up, allowing us to refresh and restore, and then sending us on our way again, always keeping an eye on us.
Listening to a Legacy
When Niki died I thought I was done with listening to and learning from Niki’s life and to be honest I stopped reading Seasons of Grace. Then a couple of weeks ago I noticed her husband and daughter were posting. Post 601 had me weeping:
Today we were having a tidy up and I found a journal of mum’s. Like a lot of her journals we’ve found there was only one entry, 😉 but I was totally shocked at what was written in it. Mum’s death has been pretty hard for me to process because it all happened so quickly. She deteriorated so fast in her last few days that I never had an opportunity to ask any questions I wanted to before she could no longer communicate with us. I know that mum loved me but I have always wished that I could have asked her what she loved about me and what she thought of me, her daughter. In this journal entry mum talked about the unique love that she has for each member of our family and the things that she loves about us and bring joy to her. Even though mum didn’t necessarily intend for us to read what she wrote, reading what she had to say healed a part of me that I thought might forever be a mystery. Almost as if she’d written her last words down for us without realising. Man now I’m all emotional! The part that stood out to me the most though was her first sentence, “Lord, however many days you give me… I am grateful.”
In some ways Niki and her daughter Alicia are ordinary people. In other ways they are quite extraordinary and I am very grateful that Facebook has made it possible for me to share a part of their life stories.
What is Your Response?
As you read this reflection are there names that come to mind of Facebook friends or others whose stories you should listen more deeply to? Are there people you need to pay more attention to?
You might like to take time to watch the video below and reflect on the life stories that are share here too.
This is our 25th year joining with you at our annual Celtic Prayer Retreat.
To help celebrate, we’ve added a Friday evening program, Introduction to Celtic Spirituality followed by a music jam. We’ve also added three Saturday afternoon workshop options. All this, along with updated prayer trails and a full morning of worship before departing on Sunday! It’s going to be amazing!
Find out more HERE, or click HERE to go directly to tickets!
Help sponsor our retreat!
We have many levels of sponsorship all with different perks – find out more about sponsoring the retreat.
Individuals can sponsor through the link above, or donate in $25 blocks HERE
Help Spread the News!
Can you help us spread the news?
Sunflowers by Mandy (Used with permission)
By Fran Pratt
God, we thank You for turning the earth toward the Sun .
We thank You for summer.
As the days and the light are long,
So is the Love of God:
Endless
Fruitful
Full of possibility
Bursting with energy.
As growing things are awake and progressing,
So may we become awake
To Your light and to Your love
Making progress
Seizing opportunities to grow
Readying for harvest.
As our plot on the planet faces the sun, our star,
So do we turn ourselves toward the Son
Following the Way of Christ,
Following the Way of Love,
Growing to maturity,
Spreading seeds of Good News to all.
Amen
By Andy Wade –
What does it mean to listen, to really listen so that you hear and understand? And what are the many ways we can learn to listen? This month’s Author-of-the-Month, Keith Anderson, explores this idea in his newest book, A Spirituality of Listening: Living What We Hear.
Our home in Kowloon City, Hong Kong circa 1997
Several years ago while living in Hong Kong I began exploring our modern idea of spiritual retreat, taking time to reflect and to listen deeply to God. It dawned on me that we almost always take these retreats out of our regular surroundings, often in times a remote setting, a kind of going into the wilderness. I understand why this is so inviting. It seems I listen best when I’m away from routine.
I really enjoy “wilderness” retreats, yet several things about this bothered me:
- It’s a luxury many don’t have.
- While it takes us out of our normal element so we can better focus, it doesn’t teach us how to become spiritually balanced and to listen more deeply within our everyday context.
- Going into the wilderness in the Bible, and as seen by the early monks and nuns, was not a retreat but going out to do battle with the devil, often on behalf of the church.
- It can become a form of escapism where we leave behind our issues in order to be “spiritual” for a time, reinforcing a kind of sacred/secular dualism all too common in the church today.
What would it mean, I wondered, to retreat – to learn to listen – in the city?
As a small-town boy Transplanted to a city of seven million, I was often overwhelmed by all the noise, both auditory and visual. This constant assault on my senses dulled my ability to listen. Walking into one of Hong Kong’s many five-story malls, my eyes would kind of glaze over and my ears would go into hibernation. I’d simply go about my business on auto-pilot. I struggled to find a space where I could listen, really hear, in the city where all the stimuli overwhelmed my senses.
What I began to discover, and am still learning, is that there are many ways to listen deeply. I wish I’d had Anderson’s book back in the late 90’s when I began this exploration of retreat and listening. For much of my journey I have limited listening to a very narrow definition. Sure, I had different tools for listening, like journaling, Lectio Divina, and the practice of Examine, but I really hadn’t thought of listening with such broad parameters as outlined in this book.
Since this really isn’t a review of Anderson’s book I won’t outline the various forms of listening he explores. But I do want to mention a key aspect of listening that I’ve learned is essential to making room for listening in the city, and which Anderson also explores. Silence.
I think one of the real attractions of retreat away from home is the possibility of real, physical silence. But like listening, silence actually has many forms. There is physical silence, an ambient quietness of sound and activity. This kind of silence often requires us to leave our normal environment. Another critical form of silence is an inner silence, which we can cultivate. We can learn to find this silence even when chaos swirls around us, assaulting our senses. For some, their individual spiritual and emotional temperaments may naturally cultivate this ability, while for others it may seem a near impossibility.
I had a roommate in college with a heightened sense of inner silence. For him it took the form of being able to shut out everything around him and focus only on the task in front of him. It didn’t seem to matter what I did when he was in this zone; he had no idea what was going on around him. I had to physically put my hands on him and shake him to get his attention. This kind of inner silence can be hugely beneficial when we’re unable to escape our surroundings but want to focus on God as we listen for God’s still, small voice speaking deeply within.
There is another kind of inner silence which comes to many of us only with struggle; Shutting off our inner voices, those boundless inner conversations, arguments, self-justifications and random thoughts. This is where a short, repeated prayer like, “Jesus, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner” can help to clear our minds. I keep a notebook nearby so I can jot down these random thoughts and set them aside. If I jot them down so I know I will remember them later, I’m able to let them go for a while.
There is an inescapable connection between silence and listening well. Silence allows us to focus. Whether that focus is on a conversation (including prayer), God’s creation, or reflecting on scripture, silence enhances our ability to truly hear. I would go so far as to say that, until we learn to cultivate inner silence, our ability to listen well will be severely limited.
Reflecting on these aspects of listening:
- What is your experience of listening?
- How do you listen best to God?
- Where do you find it most challenging to listen?
This last question might be the source of a personal challenge for you for this week or month.
How might you be more intentional about listening in those situations where listening is most difficult for you?
Keep a journal and write down:
- What are be some specific reasons listening in this context is difficult for me?
- Some possibilities might be noise, distractions, a broken relationship, contrasting views, painful memories…
- What are two to three steps you can take today to practice listening more intentionally in these contexts?
- Maybe it means working on reconciliation with someone. Or perhaps seeking therapy for a deep brokeness that gets in the way of hearing from certain (types of) people. Or maybe, like me, you need to work harder at focusing on the person(s) in front of you while ignoring all the interesting things happening around you.
In the video below, Julian Treasure outlines five concrete steps to help us listen better. Reflecting on this video I realized that our imaginations and creativity are also often ravaged by the constant onslaught of noise in our lives. Implementing the five steps outlined by Treasure can begin to address both the spiritual and creative numbing that happens when we’re constantly surrounded by noise.
[themify_video src=”https://youtu.be/cSohjlYQI2A” width=”600″ ]
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