A freewrite on faith

Jun 7, 2015 | Hope & Encouragement, My sort-of Sermons, Spirituality, Writing

There have been times in which my own writing has taken me to places of surprise, insight, and even tears. Some alchemy occurs, my brain works for instead of against, me, and I have the unexpected ability to express something that changes and transforms me. When that happens, it is the Sacred – with a capital S.

But it happens so rarely! Which causes my faith to wane. In myself, my capacity, my ability, to be sure; even more, in the Sacred – with a capital S.

It seems to me that the Sacred – with a capital S – would want to be experienced, want to show up, want to amaze and awe and impact. And so, when days and weeks and months and seasons slip by without noticeable Presence – with a capital P – it never occurs to me to wonder about those upper case realities. I figure it must be me.

I do not have enough faith. I am at fault. I am to blame. Yep. That’s it. So I get to work. I write more. I critique myself more. I think more – and nothing surfacy, thank you very much – only thoughts that are deep, profound, and significant. I sweat drops of blood – or at least try.

Still, to no avail. And the accompanying belief (which is really a lie) is this: Yet again, I am not enough, do not want it enough, do not believe enough. Because, really: “If you have faith the size of a mustard seed you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.”

I remember countless nights as a teenager, lying in bed, eyes red-rimmed from tears, thinking about that verse. A mustard seed?!? That’s nothing! I would close my eyes and picture that tiny seed – the one that rattled within the charm hanging from the silver bracelet my grandmother gave me (alongside the State of Washington, the Empire State Building, a grand piano, and countless other then-meaningful symbols). I’d pour all my faith into it – every positive thought, learned belief, and endless hope – in order to move the mountain du jour: clear skin, a boyfriend, a date to the dance, being pretty, being noticed, mattering.

Truth-be-told, these nights hardly ceased with my teens. There have been more nights as an adult in which I’ve done the same – just new mountains to move: a man, infertility’s end, a miracle in my marriage, a relationship’s healing, money, and yes, my writing. Nothing moves. Nothing changes. Nada. And I am left with the defeating awareness that my faith remains (or does it?) smaller than that seed; apparently almost nonexistent.

I grew up hearing and learning that “faith without works was dead.“ As though, in order for faith to be real or worthy or even remotely worthwhile, to keep it present and even functional, my actions (only the good, worthy, and important ones, of course) were required.

Imagine faith as a body and works as exercise and food choices. To let one’s body fall apart; to not take the necessary steps, do the necessary work, be  responsible? Well, all kinds of internal and external shame shows up around that. Likewise, to let one’s faith merely ‘be’ without working at it, working, period? Yes, shameful.

These days, all of this sounds and feels wrong to me (both the eating/exercise and the working at faith).

I believe that faith is something lovely and light and whimsical and intuitive and transparent and un-capturable and liminal. What is John O’Donohue’s word? Penumbral. (I’ll have to look that up). Faith just is, period. I don’t have to work at it, or work to prove that I am worthy of it, or work on it to make it grow and even exist, in the first place. Faith is like hope and joy and peace and love. It is a state, a reality, a truth, a gift. Yes, that’s it.

As I write this, I feel the surprise, the insight, and yes, the tears. Alchemy and change. The Sacred – with a capital S. Which has nothing to do with me, my less-than-a-mustard-seed faith, my effort, my striving. Nada. Thank God! This is mountainous. And I am the one who is moved.

Guess I’ll keep believing…and holding on to hope…and pondering mustard seeds…and yes, writing.

*****

Penumbral: A fringe region of half-shadow resulting from partial obstruction of light by an opaque object; the lighter and outer region of a sunspot; the point or area in which light and shade blend.

How to Deepen Your Spirituality

Jul 24, 2014 | My sort-of Sermons, Spirituality

One of the most powerful ways in which we infuse and strengthen our own spirituality is to expand it beyond ourselves. It’s soooo easy to become isolated, fixated, even stuck. We study. We focus. We practice. And though all of this is critical and meaningful, the temptation is rife to veer mostly toward ourselves: My study. My focus. My practice.

What we believe and how we embody/experience our spirituality must be inclusive of the world in which we live and the people with whom we relate – even, and maybe especially, those with whom we do not.

How do we do this? There are so many ways, of course, but here are 3 ideas you can start implementing right away:

1. Venture into realms that are outside your boundaries, your comfort zone, your predictable-ness. If you grew up in the church like me, maybe those realms have to do with Tarot, Goddesses, Pagan ritual, or even metaphysics. Take a class. Book a reading. Join a FB group. Build an altar. If your experience is just the opposite, it might mean that you listen to someone talk of their relationship with the god you don’t believe in (or have left), why they believe, why it matters to them, what they love, worship, and revere. Attend a worship service. Listen to liturgy. Download the haunting beauty of Taize on iTunes. Get a Blessing. Step outside your lines.

2. Let go of your dogmatism. No matter your perspective or stance, when push-comes-to-shove you still believe you are right. And this, by its very nature, assumes that others are wrong. Though I’m sure you are incredibly open minded, this is dangerous territory – the impact of which you’ve felt before, witnessed many times, and still have the scars by which to prove it. But that door swings both ways. What would it look like for you, me, all of us, to acknowledge that we’re pretty damn opinionated and that maybe, just maybe there are some other pretty incredible positions/perspectives that are worth creating space for? This isn’t about changing your mind (though that’s always a possibility); it’s about becoming more clear, more grounded in your own beliefs through the challenge of appreciating and respecting others’. It’s about allowing for what’s complicated. It’s about stretching your wings and maybe even doing some heavy lifting.

3. Apply new templates to the old (or, if you prefer another metaphor, put the old wine in new wineskins). This is my love, of course: (re)telling the ancient, sacred stories of women in Scripture in ways that honor and value them as much as we do myths, fairytales, and epic film. ‘My example. What’s yours? Maybe you listen to hymns that are acoustic re-mixes. Maybe you think about the way in which the Archetype Card you drew this morning might talk to Mary Magdalene or Jesus or Eve. Maybe you repeat a Rosary while Tibetan chants play in the background. Maybe you take that yoga class held in the basement of your neighborhood church. Maybe you fill out tonight’s page in your Gratitude Journal as though you were talking directly to God. Mix it up. Shake it up. Try something new!

I hardly say any of this by way of prescription. I speak every single word on my own behalf; always preaching to the choir. I feel incredibly grateful to be surrounded (and confronted) by things, concepts, and people way outside my purview every day. Each and every one, when I allow such, cause me mysteriously, graciously, powerfully to take deeper breaths, to go further down, to open up my arms, mind, and heart. Each and every one, when I allow such, invite me to a whole world of beauty and wisdom I would have otherwise missed. And each and every one remind me, again and again, that there is so much I don’t know. Thank goodness!

There is no limit to the ways in which our spirituality can expand, grow, broaden, deepen, and ultimately impact. Which of course, is exactly what we endlessly and passionately long for, yes? Let’s do
that, then.

May it be so.

Sophia and Quantum Physics

Jan 20, 2014 | Hope & Encouragement, Spirituality, Women's Voice & Power, Women's Wisdom

I had to figure out how to find Sophia. Or make the space for her to find me. One day I came to realize that she’s been here all along. Through all my questions she continues to hold my hand. She nudges. Cajoles. Entices. Winks. ~ Karen Speerstra, Sophia: The Feminine Face of God

I have often wondered how my life might have been different if I’d known of Sophia; if god was a woman; if I had realized and felt that I was supported, surrounded, and upheld by the Feminine – in spirit, in form, and within.

I can only wonder, for this is not what I have known.

Rather than wallow in regret, I can, with gratitude and awe, recognize that whether I knew Her or not, even realized She existed, She has been here all along.

That’s the beauty of truth: aware, or not, has no influence or impact on its reality, its presence, its activity in our lives.

Consider gravity. Even if I do not understand it at the most scientific of levels (which I do not), its truth is no less present nor its reality any less felt. Or how about Quantum physics? (Let me be clear: no comprehension at all!) But I see its outworking and mysterious, mystifying reality around me – all the time and without question.

It’s the not-knowing, not needing to recognize, and not actually having to be aware that makes truth and its power and presence so beautiful, winsome, and undeniable.

And if we can know, do recognize, and are aware? Delight, gift, and grace.

Sophia (along with gravity and Quantum physics) has existed, acted, and stayed even when unacknowledged, unknown, un-understood, and unseen. And if that weren’t good news enough, then this: when all is said and done, it takes the pressure off when it comes to the sacred, the divine, and any understanding of (or even belief in) god – or not. It’s just not about us.

This means the slightest of winks or most tender of nudges is also nothing more (and certainly nothing less) than delight, gift, and yes, grace.

(You can imagine Sophia’s smile right now, can’t you?)

May it be so.

Giving Up On God

Mar 22, 2013 | Spirituality

Giving up on God: I’m considering it.

I don’t ponder this from an atheistic precipice or in a state of existential angst; rather, it’s an all-out gamble on (and hunger for) a God who supersedes my doubt, who surprises, who stays, who’s relevant and BIG and full-of-felt-love.

The argument could legitimately be made that the God I’ve known since childhood is this God. I would not disagree—completely. But it’s much more complex. That God has often been so bound in strictures of thought and doctrine and prescribed behavior that I’ve felt suffocated at times – unable to breathe deep, to imagine wildly, to believe in ways that expand my heart, my soul, my world.

If God is, as I have been taught, full of unconditional and endless love, then my experience of such should be defined by freedom, grace, and ease, yes? Instead, many of my learned patterns take me to compliance, obedience, aspiring-toward-perfection, penance, offerings, and yes, that prescribed behavior; the manifestation and “proof” that I am good enough, worthy enough . . . enough, period.

I do not believe these things to actually be of God, still, they are the predominant ways through which I’ve come to not only measure my own worth, but also the health/status of my relationship with the Divine. And yes, I can intellectually argue myself out of all of this, but that does not lessen its grip; its ingrained, deep within, at-a-cellular-level hold on my heart.

I should be quick to say that I’ve also had profound personal experiences and seasons of belief that have been incredibly meaningful and even miraculous. It’s not a binary – my thoughts of God: all good or all bad, all true or all false, all worthwhile or all folly.

It’s complex: this God thing. And some days, it exhausts me; other most days it’s the only thing that sustains my hope.

Lest you are worried, it’s not actually giving up on God that I’m considering; it’s giving up on the work of considering God. It’s my desire, intention, and prayer to fall into Open Arms, ease, acceptance, flow, and grace; into a Presence that strengthens and soothes; into a God I inhale and exhale as naturally as I breath.

And maybe this is that:

If God is God, then I can trust that He/She/It will not give up on me.

Inhale. Exhale. Yes.

A Woman’s Faith

Mar 14, 2013 | Spirituality, Women's Voice & Power

It takes faith to be a woman. Whether married or single; a mother or not; a lover and/or friend; self-employed, other employed, or unemployed; a home owner or renter; physically fit or not; old(er) or young(er); extroverted or introverted; religious/spiritual or atheist/agnostic; sister, cousin, aunt, daughter. Each of these requires something more of us, takes something more from us, and calls forth something more in us.

This is not the Faith of our Fathers: a rock solid, immovable system of belief in a male god, a hierarchical church, a patriarchal theology and all the tenets therein.

This is the faith of our Mothers: oft’ unknown and unnamed by them, but ours to carry, to name, to memorialize, to grieve, and to heal. This is a faith that is fluid, highly adaptable, feminine, and grounded in a belief in self.

This is a woman who knows, relies on, and makes her substance known/seen in every realm – living out loud in unconscious, gracious, natural ways. A woman who understands her power, her presence, her passion. A woman who imbues life and wisdom in every conversation and relationship. A woman who gives a resounding, “Yes!” to all things beautiful , tender, vulnerable, courageous, and justice-
focused.

A woman who risks everything for what/who she loves. A woman who sacrifices and suffers much on behalf of her own heart and the hearts of others. A woman who can see the impact and ramification of her words, her thoughts, her actions and chooses integrity, compassion, and generosity at every turn.

A woman who extends herself and others grace. Who does not hide in places of shame or silence; rather, can and will acknowledge her goodness (sometimes fleeting and floundering, other times bold and amazing) and her truest voice. A woman who knows patience – with self and with others.

A woman who is real. Afraid. Tentative. Hopeful. Dangerous. Weighing. Balancing. Walking a tightrope. Hanging on by a thread. Loving with abandon. Getting burned. Making mistakes. Achieving greatness one moment at a time. Believing in herself. Laughing. Weeping. Comforting. Knowing. Holding.

The Sacred Feminine with flesh. The power, knowledge, and beauty of the ages woven into her heart, her mind, her soul. Undaunted. The goddess within. Not an entity outside ourselves in which we place our belief, our trust, our hope. She is seen and experienced in a strength, a power, a beauty we know in our bones – even if only faintly – as an echo, a whisper, a breeze.

This knowing, this belief, this faith is intuitive, resonant, and wholly ours. We imbibe it/her. We inhabit it/her. And she inhabits us.

Have faith, woman. She is here.

In Me. In You.