Retreat Thoughts, day 1

I spent last week on a 5 day silent retreat at the Ignatius House in Atlanta.  It was a blessed time of silence and reflection and prayer and reading.  The great thing about a silent retreat is that there are no distractions--you're not constantly thinking about the other things you need to be doing.  You can be present in the moment and pray without urgency.  I did some reflecting there, and I'll be sharing some of those thoughts over the next few days.

It seems silly to do God's work for him, as though God were not able to do it well enough himself.  Imagine trying to take the baton from the symphony conductor or ripping your tax forms from an accountant's hand—the mere thought of it is enough to make us recoil, for while we might be able to do a decent imitation of their tasks, in no way would the outcome resemble the product we so deeply desire.  It would be a poor imitation at best, a mockery at its worst.

And yet, in the process of spiritual development, we so often do exactly that.  We tear the responsibility for spiritual growth away from the giver and gifter of faith, confidant that our own human efforts can bring the sown seed within us to life.  We are certain that we know best the places to assert our efforts, and we do just that, toiling under the unforgiving sun of perfection that shortens our tempers and dampens our enthusiasm until the best of our efforts have wilted beneath the withering heat.  Our own efforts are tested and found wanting, and we fall defeated, certain that our best efforts at spiritual growth are fruitless, certain that nothing will come of the desire for a deeper communion with God.

Our disappointment grows only because the labors were exerted in the wrong fashion.  Our understanding of spiritual growth is inverted, twisted and convoluted into something barely recognizable.  Were we to approach spiritual growth Biblically, understanding that spiritual growth is a process of the Holy Spirit that is performed on those willing to submit their lives to the yoke of Christ's Lordship, we would see our role not as primary mover but rather as grateful recipient, patient on the work of the master potter, trusting the love of the generous sustainer, anticipating the final product that the God of resurrection is bringing to life within us.  We are not the potter but the clay, and that does not diminish our value at all; rather, it elevates us, for if we were the potter our finite lives would limit and define us.  Since we are crafted in the image of God and made for his eternal kingdom, we are not defined by our finite limits but rather live expectantly, limited in our understanding of God's transcendence but certain that we are part of a much larger reality than what our feeble eyes can reveal to us.

And so we begin anew, setting down the pitcher of water that we have been so desperately trying to carry up the hill, only to discover a seemingly infinite number of impediments.  We begin anew, accepting that we cannot carry a full pitcher to the peak of the mountain, ready and willing to let God carry us, ready and willing to let God fill us, ready and willing to set aside the false god of singular achievement that we have pursued and worshiped.  We are not individuals that stand alone , defining ourselves by the existence we can carve out and defend from the chaotic milieu; rather, we are each radiant points in a tapestry woven by God, our lives interlocking with one another and dependent upon God to stitch them together and reveal to us where they lead and how they work within the Kingdom of God.  This may not all be clear in the moment, but when we pass through the shadow of death and see from another perspective, we will step back and recognize the brilliance of God who was with us every step of the way. 

Then, and only then, will we truly understand.  For now, we press our faces against the murky glass, catching a glimpse here and then of something wonderful, something magnificent, something marvelous, and we let our hearts pursue God and be pursued by Him, and in the midst of this dance we are transformed, that the light of Christ shines through us for all to see that we belong not to ourselves but to the one who has purchased us with a price.

Thanks be to God.