Company
I don’t realize that I stopped thinking during my time there alone in my seat. I listened, I watched, I recited when it was time. And when it grew silent I bowed. I don’t remember that God was saying anything. I don’t remember that I was saying anything. I think we were just there, together, enjoying each other’s company.
As I sat, bent over toward the front of the pew with my face in my hands, I felt the priest’s hand on my head and heard him murmur a blessing.
I hadn’t heard him approach. And I was not startled.
Exactly. Yes, this is what can happen when we slow down enough, quiet ourselves enough and just be. And somehow, sitting through a beautiful liturgy really enhances this, encourages this response. Loved this at the other site (in slightly different form, I believe) and am glad you’re bringing some of that over here to this space. Thank you.
2012/01/20 at 11:48 AM
Ha! Diana, if by “slightly different form” you mean a variation that hoped to straighten out the tense agreement problems I keep having when I write in first person present, then yes! It is a slightly different form!
I didn’t realize it until I posted the snippet over here. And it didn’t bother me here by itself but I had to go try and tweak it there. Argh.
Anyway, more to your comment. Yes. The liturgy and process help me a great deal getting to this place. And I think this was the first time that I had that well lost track of myself to the extent that I wasn’t aware of what was happening here or there, yet well enough at ease that he didn’t just startle me out of my skin.
Now, here’s one for you. Are you familiar with this project that Dr. McKnight linked to today? I’m intrigued.
Thanks, Diana, for your encouragement to me in a good but foreign process.
2012/01/20 at 12:12 PM
What project, Lyla? I don’t see a link in your comment. And I don’t get my Scot fix until later in the day most days. And I’m heading out the door for a haircut in a bit, so won’t have much time now to look it up – but I’d love to, so let me know. dtrautwein at gmail dot com
2012/01/20 at 12:19 PM
Whoops! Nancy distracted me.
Try this: http://www.patheos.com/blogs/jesuscreed/2012/01/20/aaron-niequist-a-new-liturgy/
2012/01/20 at 12:20 PM
Once again, you’ve touched on a number of things I’m thinking about. For most of my life, I thought it was my responsibility to become more like Jesus. Now I’m thinking more and more about being an imitator of God, as a dearly loved child. I’m thinking about the ways my children, not born of my body, imitate me even down to the inflections in my voice. They got that way, for better or worse, simply by following me around and hanging out with me. This is what I need more of, this hanging out with God; maybe not doing anything in particular, maybe even letting my mind drift. Is that okay?
2012/01/20 at 12:12 PM
Yes!! Nancy! Yes!! (Exclamation points — does that mean anything to you coming from me?)
Letting your mind drift. Not in some weird transcendental way. But in a way that puts down the legal pad and just brings to him what’s on your mind. Paul Miller writes of this in “A Praying Life.” He encourages us to “come messy, come with your wandering mind.” Our minds are going to wander anyway, we may as well follow them: “if you don’t begin with where you are, then where you are will sneak in the back door. Your mind will wander to where you are weary.” We beat ourselves up for not being able to focus when we’re with him. We could do well to just be with him, talking about what’s on our hearts, and before long we’re listening to what’s on his.
The agenda-free time with God is liberating. (I need to do it more often.)
2012/01/20 at 12:20 PM
YES. Drifting can be good. Very good. But centering can be really helpful, though it’s hard to do – primarily because we do tend to drift and need to gently rein it in. Fr. Thomas Keating’s work on contemplative prayer is really helpful here.
2012/01/20 at 12:21 PM
And, what Diana said too.
2012/01/20 at 12:22 PM
being there kind of sharing. very nice.
2012/01/20 at 1:38 PM
Lyla, I want to spend an afternoon in your mind.
Or maybe it’s your heart. You show me things.
Every time.
2012/01/20 at 6:54 PM
Spending an afternoon in Lyla’s mind. The thought boggles my mind.
2012/01/22 at 4:59 PM
This is how I want to be in His presence. Just there. Loved this, Lyla.
2012/01/21 at 3:40 PM
Just there. Together. Not trying. And we’re changed.
2012/01/22 at 5:00 PM
Perhaps we really don’t need to do anything, just wait quietly and accept the precious gift. I’ve been thinking about it for a little while (since listening to a series by Chuck Swindoll) – this works mentality. It is so hard to just sit and feel as though we are doing nothing. But what if that is all He asks?
2012/01/22 at 6:18 PM