As I press prayer deeper, I find that there are more than
enough distractions to try and keep me from pressing prayer deeper. I’ve read
quite a bit about the experiences of others who have plumbed the depths of
contemplative prayer. They all speak about these annoying, mosquito-like
distractions. And, they agree that we must hold these things in the light of
God’s presence so that a conversation with God can shed light on them.
One such ‘distraction’ is the recurring memory of certain
sins in my life. These were dealt with through confession and repentance long
ago. But, as I begin to pray, some of these memories just show up. As I have
brought these before Yahweh, have rehearsed events in my life that may have
some connection to these things. They seem to end with the fact that I was
adopted as an infant. I have learned a bit about my birth parents. Enough to
know that I was pretty much an unplanned for accident. But, this alone does not
explain the continued interruptions of my time with God.
Then, I began to realize that who I am is strongly connected
to the communities that I have been a part of. These groups and systems have
shaped my life, perhaps more than I realized. Family, school, friends,
co-workers, and others have created environments in which I have both
flourished and foundered. I think, however, that God wants me to consider the
larger group: the Human family.
I have known for many years the depths I am capable of
sinking to. There is no sense in trying to fool myself. Jesus articulated some
of these, “out of the heart of
men, proceed the evil thoughts, fornications, thefts, murders, adulteries, deeds
of coveting and wickedness, as well as deceit, sensuality,
envy, slander, pride and foolishness” (Mark 7:21-22). In a word...‘me.’
Henri Nouwen wrote in The Wounded Healer, “Through compassion it is possible to
recognize that the craving for love that people feel resides also in our own
hearts, that the cruelty the world knows all too well is also rooted in our own
impulses. Through compassion we also sense our hop for forgiveness in our
friends’ eyes and our hatred in their bitter mouths. When they kill, we know
that we could have done it; when they give life, we know that we can do the
same. For a compassionate person nothing human is alien: no joy and no sorrow,
no way of living and no way of dying.”[1]
Perhaps,
some of what I am experiencing is for my own healing. Maybe merciful Yahweh has
seen fit to dust me off and polish me up a bit. No, lousy metaphor. Elohim has
decided to crush me into dust in order to melt me and refashion me. Maybe other
folks get dusted and polished, not me. But, I don’t think I’m alone. I am
human! I stand in solidarity with humanity! I don’t know for sure where God is
leading. But, what I do know is that God is completely trustworthy and
faithful. Where ever this is going, I can trust Yahweh.
[1]
Nouwen Henri J. M., The Wounded Healer:
Ministry in Contemporary Society, (New York: Doubleday, 1972), 45.
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