Home
About MW USA
Ministry
Resources
Giving
to MW USA
Contact us
Timbrel Archives:
Articles on spiritual growth
Sample articles
Time to uproot
Repetition brings moments of grace
Seized
by the power of a great affection
God-centered fasting
brings freedom
Seeking spiritual
direction: a practical guide
Art by Ingrid Hess; please do not reprint without permission.
* * * * * * * *
Time to uproot
By Brenda Hartman-Souder
Timbrel,
July-August 2006
This spring as I was spading our garden to plant the first spinach, 3-year-old
Greg trotted over to watch.
“What’s that stuff?” he asked, pointing to the rich, dark humus Mark, my
husband, had spread.
“That’s compost, honey,” I replied. “That’s what has become of all those
vegetable peels you carry out to the compost bin—it’s become new soil so
we can grow more yummy vegetables.”
I stopped spading to let my own words sink in, while my son, apparently
satisfied with the answer, bent down to examine an earthworm.
This lesson on compost has become a symbol for our family. We will soon
uproot to be planted in new soil. Next year I won’t be in this garden, harvesting
crisp cucumbers, tying up tomatoes or snipping bouquets of lapis blue salvia
and golden coreopsis. Next year, our family will live in Nigeria, West Africa,
serving as Mennonite Central Committee (MCC) country co-representatives.
Though sadness still circles like bees searching for the zucchini plant’s
yellow blossoms, saying goodbye has slowly become easier. When the e-mail
from MCC arrived last September, asking us to consider this assignment,
my first reaction was, “You’re kidding! Not us! Not now! We’re just getting
settled!”
Mark and I served with MCC from 1997 through 2000 with two nonprofit Nigerian
organizations. At our term’s end, our country representatives told us that
MCC would welcome us back for other assignments. We politely nodded and
said yes, we'd be open to serving again WAAAAY in the future. But with 18-month
Valerie in tow, we were eager to return to life in Syracuse, N.Y., our home
since 1990.
Readjusting took time. We bought and fixed up an old house. Greg joined
our family. We dug into our diverse urban neighborhood, got involved at church,
planted vegetables and flowers, renewed relationships, made new friends.
Every so often we’d toss out glib statements about wanting to serve abroad
again, “someday.” And when a former Nigerian MCC colleague visited last
March and said to me, “We want you back in Nigeria.” I flippantly replied,
“If God calls us back, we’ll go.” Then I forgot all about it—until the e-mail
arrived. MCC’s invitation forced us to examine our good intentions, our faith
and our stated values as well as how we recognize and hear God’s Spirit in
our lives. What exactly was God saying to us with this invitation?
By late fall we asked, “Why not us? Why not now?” We grappled with questions
that could not be cleanly answered. Did we have the skills and abilities
for this assignment? Both in our 40’s, Mark and I wondered what this meant
for financial security. And most of all, what about our children who would
be involuntary missionaries? How could God mean for us to take them to a
place of uncertainly and tumultuous change?
We began to understand while risk is involved in moving to a developing
country, there are also dangers in not doing so. Getting mired in the good
things of a stable, middle class existence, and believing in the illusion
we can plan and control our lives carries some dangers. And what are the consequences
of ignoring God’s invitation?
If we said yes, I began to believe our children might develop a deeper
faith, a global perspective, a willingness to examine and debunk consumerism,
and a heart for service. Watching their parents step out in faith imparts
a message about our values to our kids. And I remembered children are entrusted
to us as gifts, not possessions.
We didn’t receive a direct e-mail from God which allowed us to make our
decision with total certainty and peace. But we finally chose to believe that
God was behind this calling from an organization we trust; and that the Spirit
was speaking to our desire to follow God wherever that led.
By midwinter, when snow covered slumbering daffodils and daisies, we accepted
MCC’s invitation. I don’t think God is worried about my doubts—going forth
in faith doesn’t require an absence of doubt. I discovered this quote, author
unknown, in my journal from our first time in Nigeria: “I stand on the periphery
of my life. I surrender what I thought my life would be like, so that something
new can be born.”
As each day of our leaving draws nearer, I treasure my present moments.
This year, the lavender seems more fragrant, the basil more pungent, the lettuce
sweeter and more tender. I do my best to surrender to the fact that both
the garden and I are part of God’s mysterious, creative and sometimes surprising
cycle of life. And now I can now almost unequivocally respond, “Yes, us.
Yes, now.”
For reprint permission, contact the editor.
* * * * * * * *
Repetition brings moments
of grace
By Marilyn Rudy-Froese
Timbrel,
November-December 2004
I love quilting for many reasons, not least of which is the repetitive nature of putting a quilt together. While much thought and planning, not to mention concentration, is needed in order to cut, piece, and quilt a quilt or wall hanging, the process also involves a lot of repeated actions. Piece after piece is cut, involving the same motion. Sitting at the sewing machine and feeding pieces of the quilt through to sew them together provides much space for my mind to focus on things other than my quilt project.
In a similar way, I find the process of washing dishes to be a relaxing and mind-freeing process. The predictable, repetitive act of washing each item does not require me to make any decisions. My hands know what needs to be done, allowing me to focus my thoughts elsewhere.
While these three activities appear to be unrelated, they share something in common. Each one, plus countless others that we do each day—having a shower, getting dressed, brushing our teeth—are repetitive, and because of the repetition, we know what to do and can allow our minds to wander. In each of these everyday activities, we can find and encounter the holy.
My early morning walks as well as my quilting are a form of spiritual discipline and expression for me. I use my morning walks to sing a hymn, to pray, to look at the beauty of nature surrounding me. In walking the same decision-free path each day, I gain the mental space I need for God.
In quilting, I am able to nurture my relationship with God through prayer for myself, others, and the world. As I cut, piece, and quilt, I think through and talk to God about all the things that are happening in my life. I bring my worries, my fears, my joys, and my sorrows to my quilting, and stitch in my feelings and my prayers. Because of the solitary nature of much of the quilting process, it provides many opportunities for communing with God.
I also believe that the communal nature of gathering around the quilt frame is an encounter with the holy, as women share their lives and stories with one another. The threading of the needles, the motion of the needle going up and down through the quilt, the tying off of the thread are all actions which connect us to one another and to God, when done in community and sharing with each other.
Because dishwashing isn’t something I choose to do, but rather something that needs to be done, I’m not always as deliberate about using that time as holy time. However, it is precisely because it doesn’t fall into the category of leisure activity or exercise that it lends itself to holy encounters.
I have always been drawn to the story of Mary and Martha in Luke 10:38-42. But I’ve struggled with Jesus’ seemingly harsh words to Martha. As someone who finds it easier to do than to be, I’ve heard Jesus calling me to quiet contemplation and reflection, to keep my hands still so that my mind can focus on spiritual things. While I very strongly believe that this is a calling that I need to work on, I do not think that this is what Jesus was saying to Martha.
One of the keys to this text is the fact that Martha is busy and distracted. She is not listening to Jesus while she is working, but thinking about all the work that she has to do and resenting the fact that she is doing it alone. Jesus is calling her to be a better listener, to open her ears and her mind while she is working so that she can hear what Jesus is saying. Even with busy and active hands, the mind can be tuned to listen to and for the voice of God.
This story calls us to be open to encountering the holy at any moment of the day. It calls us to free our minds from things that distract us and allow our minds to be found and held by the mystery of a God who seeks us and finds us.
The ordinary chores and tasks of each day lend themselves to spiritual and holy encounters with God. We can turn mundane—and often undesirable—chores into moments of grace when we allow God to enter these times and transform them and us.
For reprint permission, contact the editor.
* * * * * * * *
A story for Valentine’s
Day:
Seized by the power of a great
affection
By Julie Bender
Timbrel,
January-February 2004
I’ve come to believe that love is the hardest thing to receive. And I’m not talking about the unhealthy versions of smother love, self-seeking love, jealous love, co-dependent love, etc. This is about truly healthy, unconditional, self-giving love that desires the highest good of the other—the Ultimate Love that is at the heart of the universe.
It seems impossible that such love would be hard to accept, yet so it appears. I remember the story of Susan from Sierra Leone, placed in an orphanage at age 2 when her mother died. When war came she was airlifted out of the country and eventually adopted at age 5 by Sylvie and John. It took months before she would sit on Sylvie’s lap. In her short life she associated a woman with someone who cared for her and then would leave her.
God seemed to know how hard it would be for humankind to trust that Ultimate Love was behind the creation of the world. So God went to great lengths to demonstrate the nature of his Ultimate Pursuing Love.
First he selected a chosen people, the Israelites. This way God could model to the world what his Parent-heart of Love was like. God promised to bless them and to use them to bless the whole world. God promised to lead them to Canaan, where God would lavish care on them.
But then came the wilderness: God’s preparation time, a time when God modeled a loving wise parent who wanted to teach the Israelites, no matter how many times they failed him. But all that hardship and suffering must have seemed so unreasonable. Seemingly so inconsistent with Love. And pretty far removed from any so-called Promised Land, which after all sounded too good to be true.
Through Jesus, today we as the church are God’s new chosen people. But it is interesting to me that the New Testament image for the church is not so often children. Instead, God usually refers to the church as a chosen bride, the bride of Christ. So now instead of picturing God as the ever patient, unconditionally loving Parent, we are invited to view God as the persistent Suitor, Romancing us to win our love.
We as Christians become God’s example to the world of a different way to live, because we know that we are in a Sacred Romance. We believe in a God who gives us freedom to choose—a God who doesn’t want puppets—but pursues us with love and wins our heart, commanding our allegiance.
Yet in many ways we are not so different from the Israelites or the general population. Oh yes, we espouse faith and love in God, but we guard our hearts tightly. We too have our questions about God’s love and how far to trust it. We too wander in the wilderness; we complain and see enough heartache and suffering to seriously question whether a larger story of a Sacred Romance exists.
There is this wildness about God that we don’t understand. We too doubt that God is truly loving, that God desires our highest good. After all, there is a lot about life that we don’t understand and that seems downright unjust in our world, for those of us who value safety, security, health, and plenty. Why doesn’t this all powerful god set things right instead of allowing so much freedom—including choices for evil and violence? It feels like we are left alone in a cold, indifferent world.
God’s story for my life seems too complex and risky. Maybe I had better just take control of life, kill the passions of the heart, and live life safely and securely by observing high morals and ideals, engaging in “sanctified busyness.”
Sometimes we try to construct a businesslike partnership with God in which we have promises and rewards, a contract that will obligate God to grant us exemption from life’s dangers. Whether it is seeking a certain spiritual experience, believing correct doctrine, or living right, the desire is the same: taming God in order to tame life.
Never mind those deep yearnings of the soul, never mind the nagging awareness that God is not cooperating. If the system isn’t working, it must be because we’re not doing it right. There’s always something to work on, with the promise of abundant life just around the corner. Surely if we faithfully walk the Christian path, God will reward us.
But God can’t be tamed according to any structured businesslike contract. There’s a wildness about this Lavish, Ultimate Love, as demonstrated by Jesus on the cross. There we meet our Pursuing God, who So Loved the World, romancing us again—one more attempt to break through the barriers around our heart, to win us over to Ultimate Love and to be healed, saved from the viruses of control and self-sufficiency.
In the U.S. South when someone became converted it was said that the person “was seized by the power of a great affection.” This seemed the most fitting way to describe the experience, when a heart responds to God’s initiative of Love—when Jesus becomes real, alive, and Lord of one’s life.
I like this phrase, because it speaks more to a heartfelt response than head knowledge alone. It creates the image of someone being won over to an irresistible love that motivates one to respond with a certain irrational abandon. It invites us to let down our barriers, to trust, to become vulnerable, to risk our hearts, maybe to risk everything, in a way that a head knowledge doesn’t.
But still, can we trust desire and sacred longings within Christianity? What might our spiritual life might look like were we to respond to the Sacred Romance and become seized by the power of great affection?
First, I believe we will respond to God out of love, not fear. The Bible teaches that perfect love casts out fear, and that fear has to do with expecting punishment. It’s like the woman who quits smoking because she loves her husband and cares for his health and hers, not because she’s afraid of his anger if she lights up. Likewise, love for God commands our obedience, but there’s a vast difference when our motivation to obey springs from love versus fear.
Moreover, responding to the Sacred Romance and being seized by the power of great affection will enable us to live beyond only following the rules, but rather to engage life as a joyous celebration. When we encounter the Ultimate Love at the heart of the universe we find ourselves not so much on a drudging march to Zion, but in a dance of intimacy. It’s a dance evolving out of prayerful presence with the God who pursues us, in love.
Let your faith become a heart response! Become vulnerable, trust, risk!
“Love so amazing, so divine, demands my soul, my life, my all!”*
* From “When I survey
the wondrous cross.” Article was inspired by The
Sacred Romance by Brent Curtis and John Eldredge (Thomas
Nelson Publishers, 1997). For reprint permission, contact
the editor.
* * * * * * * *
God-centered fasting brings
freedom
By Wendy Miller
Timbrel,
September-October 2000
In the Sermon on the Mount Jesus gives guidance on three spiritual disciplines: giving to the poor, prayer, and fasting. These are not to give us prestige or ego boosts, Jesus says, but to help us be aware of God’s presence and response: “Abba who sees in secret will reward you” (Matt. 6.18).
People of Jesus’ time shared a common understanding of when and how to fast, an understanding which is not part of our teachings today. In the Reformation fasting came to be perceived as an attempt to work at one’s salvation and the practice was discouraged.
Hence we are not always sure how to fast. So here are some suggestions for going about a God-centered fast.
Start by considering your reasons for fasting. Is your desire to fast rooted in unhealthy hopes that others may know that you are spiritual? Are you caught up in how you look in the eyes of others? We may also fast with the ulterior motive of losing weight or even of punishing ourselves. In the West we tend to have a toxic relationship with food, our bodies, and how others see our bodies.
Eating isn’t the only thing with which we struggle in relation to food. How we cook and serve it, and people’s perceptions of us as we do so, raises anxiety for many of us. Look at Martha and her explosive attack on her sister Mary in Luke 10:40. In response Jesus drew Martha’s attention to her worries and to how many things were claiming her attention, robbing her of peace and well being.
The true intent of fasting is a laying aside of most foods for a period of time so that we can be free to open our attention to God and to get in touch with what it is that controls us. We become more and more free from those controlling things as we become more attached to God, experiencing God’s love and care for us. In the presence of God we learn to know who we truly are, and we become less worried about how others see us. We are released from the anxious prison of what others think.
As we see ourselves for who we are, cherished by God, then we also see other people as cherished. Then the fast has meaning, and becomes an act of love.
For those not accustomed to fasting, it is good to begin with fasting from one meal rather than a full day. This meal may be lunch or supper. The meal before the fast should be substantial but not loaded with rich fats and sugars. During the time of the fast it is important to drink fluids. Have fruit juices on hand, diluted with water which is warm or at room temperature. Clear broth which is not too salty is also helpful. And, of course, drink water. If you have special dietary needs because of diabetes or another physical condition, modify your fast by eating needed foods which are recommended for you, but lay aside treats for a day.
Be prayerful during the day you choose to fast. You may find it helpful to practice a spiritual discipline that opens your attention to God. As in a number of Bible passages, you may wish to intercede for some special prayer concern during part of the day that you fast (see Ezra 8:23; Esther 4:16; Acts 13:2, 3). Get in touch with the responses within yourself as you fast. Bring these responses into God’s presence and release them in prayer.
Many things control our thinking and our living, demanding our attachment and energy. And so fasting may not always be from food. As God says in Isaiah 58, “Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked to cover them, and not to hide yourself from your own people?”
We may choose to fast from watching television for a season, from subscribing to so many magazines, from Web surfing, from visiting malls where we are tempted to buy for sake of buying. We may also choose to fast from resentful and spiteful thinking, replacing these thoughts with “whatsoever is true . . . lovely and praiseworthy” (Phil. 4:8).
Jesus’ ministry was all about bringing good news and freedom, healing and release. Fasting is a spiritual discipline which offers a pathway to freedom, healing, and release, and helps us grow in our love for God, others, and our selves.
For reprint permission, contact the editor.
* * * * * * * *
Seeking spiritual direction: a practical guide
By Joan Yoder Miller
Timbrel, September-October 2000
“To ‘listen’ another’s soul into a condition of disclosure and discovery may be almost the greatest service that any human being ever performs for another.”—Douglas Steere
We need places where we can be heard by another who is attentive with us. We need someone who can help us tap into the deeper roots and springs that encourage and inspire us; someone who can help us sort things through and make choices.
Originally associated with the Catholic Church, spiritual direction is an ancient resource which now reaches across denominational lines to seekers wanting to articulate the movement of God in their lives.
Spiritual direction is not therapy, doctrinal teaching, advice, or figuring out the answers. It is companionship. Awareness. Listening. Searching. Questioning. Surrender. It is of mystery, of prayer, of obedience, of abandonment to God.
The term “spiritual direction” is woefully wanting, for its concern is not simply with the spiritual but with the whole person; not simply with the life of prayer but with the whole life. Neither is it “direction” in the sense that the director knows the way and instructs another in what to do and how to do it. To the extent there is a director, the director is always the Holy Spirit.
Yet the spiritual direction hour is “spiritual” in that one looks at the Spirit at work in the deepest dimensions of human experience. It is “direction” as it facilitates the finding of one’s own path in response to the Spirit’s movement. Spiritual guidance, then, is the process of bringing to awareness this deepest level of reality in which one lives, watching for and attending the presence of God.
A spiritual director encourages the hearing of God’s word, observes the movement of the Spirit, hears confession, encourages prayer, and offers a place of accountability. The relationship is not that of parent to child, teacher to student, or guru to disciple. It’s more like the South African proverb that says, “The reason two antelopes walk together is so that one can blow the dust from the other’s eyes.”
Perhaps the director has a bit more understanding and objectivity, but the Way is a precious mystery to both, informed by scripture, the life of Christ, prayer, dreams, spiritual reading, creation, and life itself.
Why or when might one seek out spiritual companioning? When lost. When found. When scriptures seem alive. When scriptures seem dead. To connect with the inner language of dreams. To sort out God’s absence or presence. For accountability. For honesty.
It is perfectly acceptable to shop for a director in order to find a person to whom we can show our less-than-perfect selves and who will speak the truth in love. Beware of a director who has all the answers, who knows with certainty what God’s will is for you, or who is in problem-solving mode.
Look for someone who listens, responds, laughs, probes, wonders, prompts, confronts. Look for someone who feels safe to you. Look for someone whose connection to the Gospel you trust. Look for someone who continues to do their own work with their own spiritual director. Ask yourself what matters most to you: Gender? Age? Distance? Faith tradition? Training?
In the first meeting, a seeker might be prepared to ponder a few questions: What matters to you now? What do you know about what you are seeking? What is your experience of God? This would also be a time to ask a few questions of the director.
An agreed upon evaluation several months down the road can be useful. Generally, a directee can expect a one-hour session monthly.
Monetary compensation for the work of spiritual direction varies. For some, it is always offered as a spiritual gift. For others, it is the means of livelihood. Certainly, it is a costly exchange for both persons. In the U.S., when something is taken seriously, usually a monetary value is put upon it. It is best to ask a director what is desired around money.
Both the offering and the receiving of spiritual direction are a wonderful privilege. Listening and being listened to are precious gifts we can offer one another.
Or in the words of the psalmist: “We took sweet counsel together, and walked into the house of God in company” (Psalm 55:14, KJV).
* * *
Sidebar: Spiritual directors rarely hang out a shingle, so how are they found?
A list of Mennonite spiritual directors is available on the Web at www.mph.org/cp/spiritdir.htm. Some regional conferences maintain similar lists.
A pastor or friend may be able to make a recommendation. Places of retreat may offer direction or can point the way to finding it. You can check also with a nearby training center listed on the Spiritual Directors International site.
Or it may be as simple as asking someone if she or he would become a spiritual companion to you. As Henri Nouwen once said, “Many would become wise and holy for our sake if we’d invite them to assist us in our search for the prayer of the heart.”
For reprint permission, contact the editor.
* * * * * * * *
Subscriptions (one year, six issues): $10 U.S./$12 Cdn.
To
order, send checks (payable to Timbrel) to the
MW USA office.
7.13.2006
