Seasons

A few days ago the weather people told us that fall had officially arrived.  Along with their assessment came some moderated temperatures and cool breezes.  A few days were enjoyed outside which did not end up with a moment of wringing the moisture out of your shirt.  And, then it happened.  The heat returned with a vengeance and everyone was wondering about the arrival of fall.  After a day or two of summer temperatures and blazing sun, it seems that fall is still out yonder somewhere and waiting to come.     

Such is the nature of seasons.  There is no arbitrary day which signals their actual departure or arrival.  Seasons change, but never as abruptly as going from one day on the calendar to another.  And, of course, not all seasons are defined by the calendar.  Some of the seasons are defined by the things which show up in our life and dominate our spirit.  We have seasons of joy.  We have seasons of new beginnings.  We have seasons of grief.  We have seasons of coming and seasons of going.   The list is endless.  As the Old Testament writer says, "For everything there is a season...."   (Ecclesiastes 3:1)     

As we get away from the seasons of the calendar and consider the seasons of our life, we begin to understand that seasons are like the tides which slip up and down across the shoreline.  They seem to come and go.  For awhile a season may seem to be in the past and then before a breath can be taken, we find ourselves once again caught up in the rising of it once again in our life.  Such should not surprise us.   As God has ordered the seasons of our calendar, so has He ordered the coming and going of the seasons which touch our souls.  

Dreams

Most of us are dreamers.  This is not to say that most people waste a lot of their time as dreamers might be accused of doing, but instead, it is to say that sleeping is often accompanied by dreams.  When I was a child dreams were things at which to marvel.  Later in life after education has had its impact on the child which continued to live within me, they became strange windows which provided views of the world which required some measure of psychological interpretation.    

Somewhere in the middle of the years given to me, I began to see that dreams could be as the Voice of God being spoken in my inner being.  It should not have taken me so long to come to such a conclusion since by the moment of revelation I had read hundreds of times the story of Joseph having a dream that God used to change forever his future.  Unsure of whether he wanted to marry a young girl who was pregnant with a child which did not belong to him, he went to sleep.  While sleeping he had a dream and the rest is history.    

Dreams do not have to be thought of as night time disruptions caused by poor late night eating habits, but they can also be seen as a means by which the Spirit of God seeks to communicate and relate to us in the unguarded moments of our life.  Even as adults there is reason to wake up marveling at how our subconscious has been deeply touched by the Spirit of God.  Since most of us dream and since the Spirit is still seeking to guide and direct us toward the plan and will of God, it only makes sense to pay attention to what is going on inside of us even when we are sleeping.  

In the Storm

Dark nights will come

   when pouring rain 

      will rattle the panes

        blowing away the silence

of the soul seeking solitude.

The solitude holds not silence

    so much as sense of Presence

      needed by the seeking soul

        hungry and thirsting

for the Bread and the Water.

The nurturing stuff of life

    seems so far away

      when hard rain falls

         and raging winds blow

in the frightening darkness.

Midnight blackness hides the One

   Who allows and controls

      the storms in the dark

        and softly says, "It is I."

And then, "Be not afraid."

The Place of Resurrection

The Celtic monks of the regions in and around Ireland were greatly influenced by the Desert Fathers who actually lived in barren dry places.  There were no such regions around these Celtic saints so they went to the fringe areas, to the wild places, to construct their hermitages and live in solitude seeking God.  Often they were led to such places by the winds of the Spirit as they were given some sign that they had come to the place of their resurrection.    

At first the idea of coming to a place of resurrection sounds confusing.  To some it may seem that it has something to do with dying which, of course, was not the case at all.  It was more a reference to a place where God would do something so new in their life it seemed like being infused with new life.  And while it might seem that it would be overwhelmingly positive, there was often pain in leaving a place or a situation which was home, comfortable, and where God had provided many a blessing.  

It seems that it is always hard to move toward those resurrecting kind of changes in our life.  Of course, what we know is the reality that the changes are not necessarily geographic, but more likely to be things such as separation from spiritual friends upon whom we have depended, or maybe a different worship setting, or maybe even a radical change in an understanding of the ministry God has given to us.  Pilgrimages do not always require feet.  At times a willing and obedient spirit is all that is necessary.  

Pilgrimages

For some reason these recent days have been full of thoughts about the journey of faith on which I embarked so long ago and which has brought me now to a place which I can only describe as "know-not-where."  To this place I did not know I was going, but now that I have arrived in it, I recognize it as home.  The ancient Celtic Christians talked about pilgrimages which took them not to some destination such as a religious shrine, but to the place of their resurrection.  They were taken to that place not by a map or a plan, but by the wind of the Spirit.   

As I have in recent years walked deeper into the stream of Celtic spirituality, it has seemed like such a journey.  I did not plan to arrive at this place.  I believe that I am where I am because of the Spirit who moves us and in so many ways there has been a feeling of resurrection taking place.  Moving from the work of ministry to the work of the farm has the feeling of a spiritual pilgrimage, one taken without intent to move toward  "know-not-where."    

Reflection enables me to see that I have been moving in a spiritual direction without knowing where I was going.  A recent book by John Philip Newell entitled "Sacred Earth Sacred Soul" summed up this journey in the very first sentence of the book's introduction.  "We know things in the core of our being that we have not necessarily been taught, and some of this deep knowing may actually be at odds with what our society or religion has tried to teach us."   As I read those first words, I heard myself saying to myself, "Yes!"  I grabbed a pen to underline the sentence thinking that I should keep the underlining pen close at hand.

 

In Tune

It would not be true to say that I found Celtic spirituality, but the truth is more aptly written if I say that it found me.  I was not looking for this stream of spirituality.   It was not really something which was included in my world view of things existing.  But, all of a sudden it became as clear and as new as the sunrise in the morning.  Why it did not come to me earlier likely has to do with my own receptivity to something which asks not for a lot of doing, but more being.     

So many of us have been coached since the beginning days that real Christianity is about being busy.  There are things which must be done.  There are disciplines which must be kept.  There are churches which must be enshrined as the spiritual center of our life.  There are theological tenets which are unquestionable.  While we speak of resisting every effort to tell us how to think and what to believe, the truth is it starts so early we soon are unable to recognize the influence and power external voices hold over us.  The early Celtic Christians were much more in touch with the earth and the creation than we are in our day and they seem to have  had an ear for hearing the holy speaking in and through everything.  

At times the way of this faith is dismissed as pantheistic and pagan, but a deeper and closer look reveals it to be a way that seeks to be in tune with the heart of God.  When the doors of Celtic spirituality opened before me I realized I had been walking toward that way for a long time without being aware of where it was that I was going.  It was good to be able to give a name to what was growing inside of me and to know that it was from its very beginnings inside the stream of Christian spirituality.   

"Know-Not-Where" Land

There are times when our journey to the place known as "know-not-where" begins without us.  Or, maybe it is more accurate to say it begins without a sense of awareness concerning the journey.  My high school English and literature teacher started me on such a journey as she pushed me to participate in debating, writing essays, and understanding the importance of precise use of the English language.  What I could not see in those days was movement toward becoming a "wordsmith," someone who would use words to create images and ideas.    

When I arrived at the farm in those early days of retirement I started moving toward another place known as "know-not-where."   After walking on this land for a spell, both my vision of what I was seeing and my awareness of what was going on around me started changing.  In some ways the movement toward an unexpected place has been so subtle it was hardly noticed, but once noticed, it was experienced as monumental.  So much of my theological foundation has been shook and, thus, shifted by these years of faith living where the creation is at the center of life instead of the church.    

When a friend shared a book a few years ago about Celtic spirituality, I discovered a more precise understanding of the "know-not-where" place to which I had been moving ever so slowly and steadily.  What I read resonated in what was changing in my spirit and the words on the pages could not be read fast enough.  It was a word which brought me home and to be honest, I had not realized I was gone.