HOLY THREADS

This originally appeared on Prayer Threads. To receive occasional reflections and invitations like this one in your email, click here.

Wilderness places are everywhere. It is the language the Christian calendar refers to twice. It is the place where John the Baptizer announces another way. He might seem like a strange character with this locusts and honey. He might seem like someone that should not be trusted, but the wilderness is like that too. It is full of confusion. 

It is a place that doesn’t make any earthly sense. It is desolate and dangerous. It is not a place where life thrives especially when it appears again in the season of Lent. The calendar will tip that way again next week when so much seems to already have been scorched and burned. It feels like a place we have already been for so long so that we might be resistant. We might not want to go.

Reading poetry before a spiritual direction session this morning, I stumbled upon Jane Kenyon’s Full Moon in Winter. I picked up this book at Title Wave here in Anchorage a few weeks ago. This poem begins with the “remorse” that feels so familiar to this moment in time. It lingers “after anger and shouting.” There is enough of that. From that remorse, the poet notices her own shadow on the snow. There is a playfulness to it that she concludes to be “needy and full of desire…”

Desire is not reaching out for someone or something, as the theologian Wendy Farley describes it, but always leading us back to the beginning of every desire which is the love of God. Farley describes this movement as “a heart-energy that transforms the substance of humanity back into the divine image. Longing is not only for God; in a sense, it is God.” It is that desire is pulling me into the wilderness, wondering what it is most needed. 

This Lent, it feels like there is so much that we could do. Maybe so much that we shoulddo when there is so much wilderness around us. I’m wondering what it means to inhabit this space after we remember that we are dust. After we have claimed that nothing is eternal, we turn to to the Eternal One to dare to believe that there will indeed be new life. There won’t only be death and destruction. There will be something that holds us together and reminds us to keep going.

All of these practices originate from the wild wonders I inhabit with amazing people in spiritual direction. Wilderness has been such theme of our conversations lately. If you find yourself wanting to explore this place for yourself, please message me for a free first session. I would love to explore this place with you.

1. Reflect on what you were taught about love. Consider what the rules for being loved that were imprinted upon you and how you understand what love does now. You might find a companion in bell hooks’ All About Love as you contemplate these mysteries and passionately record every insight in your journal. Or it might be something you don’t write and just explore over warm cups of your favorite beverage with someone you really do love. 
2. Learn a new song to sing when you are frustrated and scared. When you cannot find the faith to believe in the promise of new life, sing loudly and boldly. Sing until your heart space opens. Dance around the room. Dance outside. Let yourself give fully into this new song. Some new songs can be found here and here.
3. Make a list of everything that you believe about God. Throw in all of the things that you think you should believe about God. Add in the things you want to believe about God. Make some blackout poetry of it until you feel like you can actually claim that faith. (Use as much paper and time as needed.)
4. Pray for your enemies. Find words for those prayers or simply light a candle and make space for holding all of your enemies in the light. Keep coming back to this practice, repeating this intention for less hate within yourself and others. 
5. Send little bits of money out into the world to all of the places that touch your heart. Whenever you see goodness, send a few dollars toward that good work. Almsgiving is one of the most ancient of practices for this wilderness season, reminding us that where we put our money is where we put our faith.
6. Be silent. There is a lot of noise in the wild right now. Find a quiet place where you can close the door to everything else that is happening in this world and let God meet you in the silence. Practice listening with your whole heart. 
7. Practice showing up for the people in your community whether that is volunteering at the food pantry, swapping childcare, or protesting when the world is on fire. Don’t worry about how you show up or why. Notice what happens when you allow yourself to be fully present. 

I don’t yet know which of these practices my desire will lead to. Maybe it will be something that is not even on this list. The same might be true for you. No matter what path we might take, I hope we understand more about this wild place where we share in our full humanity. I pray every blessing upon you this Lent, and always.