Keeping Aligned with the Word

When all is said and done, the basics rule.
The way to walk from here to there is clear:
release my arrogance that claims the right
to choose my path and act out of my fear

and wait, instead, for God to take his pen
and twist the plot, for good, because I’m his.
Meanwhile my work assignment is mapped out:
guard justice, always do what’s right, and this—

to keep my heart aligned with his true Word,
maintain love in my world, love him, draw near.

When I was a child growing up in Congo, my parents had a little box full of Bible verses on cards. One breakfast ritual was pulling them out after we had finished eating to review the ones already memorized and to begin learning a new one. I was the oldest child, so I usually took the lead. I had no idea that so many of those verses were going to shape my life, especially these:

Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you. (Jas. 4:8 ESV)

I have hidden your word in my heart that I might not sin against you. (Ps. 119:11 NIV)

Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; 6 in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight. (Prov. 3:5 NIV)

Back then they were all in KJV, getting updated in my mind over time as I dug into other translations. But the meaning was rooted in my heart. I longed to be closer to God then ever before, to draw near to him, and I knew that that would require knowing him through his Word.

Then, during my second year of marriage, I lost my first pregnancy in the seventh month, a devastating blow. I took time off from work, and turned to John 17 for comfort. Jesus had prayed for me as well as his disciples, and he longed to keep on making himself known to me and to fill me with his love. I was being embraced even in a time of grieving by memorizing this chapter, contemplating its richness:

25 “Righteous Father, though the world does not know you, I know you, and they know that you have sent me. 26 I have made you known to them, and will continue to make you known in order that the love you have for me may be in them and that I myself may be in them.” (Jn. 17:25,26 NIV)

Once I became immersed in the project of Bible translation I was forced to study the meaning of texts in a deeper way than ever before. Working through 1st and 2nd Peter woke me up to treasures there that I knew I needed to “hide in my heart.” I memorized them. Doing that gave me focus on the spiritual growth that Peter was promoting, and aligned my heart increasingly with what matters to my Lord.

It was something I had never thought I would do: memorize whole books. And I found out that I did not have the great long-term memory I had hoped for. Unless I kept on repeating the lengthy sections out loud, I could not remember the whole chain of thought.  Nevertheless the process forced me to contemplate each verse and its connection to the context while I was working on it. I was deeply nourished.

During the last two years a partner in our mission led anyone who wished to join in memorizing James, then the Sermon on the Mount. Wow! Some of you may have noticed that during that time, my blogs usually focused on what I was learning and applying from those passages.

Adele Calhoun points out that the motivation that incites one’s practice of memorization is the desire “to carry the life-shaping words of God in me at all times and in all places.” [1]Yes, that is it! The goal is not to show off or to earn rewards, although that often helps kids work at it. As a disciple of Jesus, yearning to know his heart and his instructions, it is about plunging into a passage in a way that will root one’s heart more firmly in the Word. Repetition of the teaching forces you to think about it.

I have experienced the Lord’s voice convicting me of false assumptions and behaviors. And he has also encouraged me to focus on spiritual growth in new ways, as in these verses:

His divine power has given us everything we need for a godly life through our knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness. 4 Through these he has given us his very great and precious promises, so that through them you may participate in the divine nature, having escaped the corruption in the world caused by evil desires (2 Pet. 1:3 NIV)

Knowing him—yes, that is my goal. But I had not meditated on the fact that he has given us everything we need to live a life deeply attached to him, even to the point of participating in the divine nature !

This spiritual practice is not one that fits every phase of life. Sometimes attention is drawn in other directions through life pressures and requirements. But I can testify that it has been a discipline that has truly helped me “to keep my heart aligned with his true Word, to maintain love in my world, love him, draw near,” as expressed in the introductory poem. What I’ve learned is to notice the pull of a certain passage, whether it is through my own study or a group memorization effort, and to then hide it in my heart. I am not the only one! My mother-in-law memorized all of 1st John in her 90s, joining a project in her church. She had some failing memory issues, but was devoted to the Word, and made it through! That was one of the reasons I dove back into memorization, myself.

It is one way to journey with the psalmist:

Oh, how I love your law! I meditate on it all day long. (Ps. 119:90 NIV)

If you would like to profit from John Piper’s blog on the key importance of this process, visit https://www.desiringgod.org/articles/memorizing-scripture-why-and-how . He quotes both Dallas Willard and Chuck Swindoll, underlining that memorization is “absolutely fundamental” to growth, and extremely rewarding. I agree!

[1] Calhoun, Adele Ahlberg. Spiritual Disciplines Handbook: Practices that Transform Us. (Downers Grove, Illinois: IVP Books, 2005), 176.

The Solitude of Two

The solitude of two:
Not me alone,
though I am closeted,
the door pulled to,
and only I sit in my lair.
It’s me and you,
and you are everywhere.

My heart’s a waiting place
anticipating your venue.
The world is narrowed
to a cell, to give you space
to do your work in me.
And all is well
when we keep company.

Have you ever wondered how to have a “prayer closet,” a private space free from people’s eyes and from interactions? It was a dilemma for me in Ferkessédougou, Côte d’Ivoire, a family living with us, our homein a courtyard surrounded by other courtyards, including the town square across a road constantly filled with huge trucks parked for respite on their long trips north and south for commerce.

Then I discovered my early morning “sacred grove,” under golden rain trees. But how about when it was raining? Sometimes I would settle for my bedroom window, a bamboo chair pulled up close for air and a view of nature. And sometimes I would head to the big meeting-place gazebo in our back yard, setting a candle on the ledge beside the wild berry bushes.

Here in Detroit, I have my attic “skyhouse,” with a sitting room, candles and a view of trees and rooftops down the street.

It has been essential for me, this solitude, a time carved out away from distractions. I’ve had to set up my spaces in handy places where I didn’t need to drive somewhere. That kind of outing would be for longer retreats, and there are wonderful options. But daily solitude is also healthy. As Dallas Willard says, it is a priority among spiritual disciplines, defined as a place where we can find freedom from ingrained patterns of feelings, interactions and actions “that hinder our integration into God’s order.”[1]  159

Why this desperation?  I was finding that certain authors were becoming my mentors. As I read about the importance of wrenching free from demands and from anything drawing my attention away from a time dedicated to just being with my Lord, I searched out ways to be alone with him. That is why it Is really a “solitude of two,” time set aside to concentrate on being with him.

What these “mentors” were writing is true: solitude opens up the opportunity to practice other disciplines. It is hard to even write about its benefits without mentioning silence, listening, prayer, practicing the Presence, journaling, examen . . . our lists can go on and on. We are giving “God’s Spirit time and space to do deep work.”[2]

Some people live alone. How could the practice of solitude be at all meaningful, when finding company in life is a constant felt need? It is important to differentiate this kind of time apart from the sadness of constantly being alone. “Loneliness is inner emptiness. Solitude is inner fulfillment. Solitude is not first a place but a state of mind and heart.”[3]  We don’t need to fear being alone, because we are not alone; our Lord is constantly with us. We need to pay attention to that. Community is healthy. The two balance each other.

Solitude is not a place. It actually is possible to practice it while surrounded by a crowd; it just takes a different kind of self-control, letting go of attachment to all that is going on. I had to learn that when a public event would be launched early in the morning in the town square just over our courtyard wall. I had to learn to not let that control me as I practiced solitude in my “sacred grove.”

 “In the midst of noise and confusion we are settled into a deep inner silence.”[4] We are tuning our inner ears to a different Voice, one best heard when we let go of the cluttered cacophony of what is going on around us as well as in our heads and hearts.

There are so many examples in Scripture of how Jesus practiced solitude. Here are a few: his 40 days in the desert before launching his ministry (Mat 4:1-11), a night alone before choosing the Twelve (Luke 6:12), when he heard that his cousin John had been killed (Mat 14:13), after feeding 5,000 people (Mat 14:23), after healing a leper (Luke 5:16), before his Transfiguration (Mat 17:1-9), and before his crucifixion (Mat 26:36-46). If he needed that time apart with his Father, think how much more we need it? We have ears unaccustomed to that divine interaction, ears that need training.

I noticed that even Paul found solitude in the middle of a very pressured journey, hurrying to get to Jerusalem by the day of Pentecost. As the ship stopped in various places, he was saying goodbye to many he had been discipling. Time was loaded with crowds, and then he preached all night and a young man sitting on a windowsill fell asleep and fell out, died, and was raised to life (Acts 20:6-12). Luke and his other companions went back to the ship and sailed to the next destination, Assos, where they were going to take Paul aboard. Why wasn’t he with them? He had decided to walk from Troas down to Assos. On the Roman road connecting them, that would have been about 31 miles. So commentators think it would have taken two days, maybe more. Now that is some time apart, alone! He had just experienced trauma, and now was headed for Jerusalem where he would be persecuted. The Spirit had told him he would suffer there (Acts 20:22-23). Like Jesus, he knew he needed that solitude—walking, in his case—to be prepared.

That is another way to carve out solitude: taking a walk. I sometimes use earbuds to listen to music or audio Scriptures while walking alone in my neighborhood. But lately I have felt the Lord prompting me to be silent, to listen to him, or to turn that time into a prayer walk. My days are full now that I am “working” in the ministry of Bible translation again; I need to untie myself from to-do’s and must-do’s and what-if’s. As Foster puts it, “Rather than chafing and fighting, become still and wait.”[5]

In addition to detaching from external noise, we must quieting our inner noise to better listen to God.[6] When it becomes a part of our lifestyle, it is no longer a scary struggle to let go of preoccupations. Instead, it is a haven of rest and strengthening.

For those who are homebound, just schedule it, or designate a chair or room as your protected retreat for solitude. Most of us have many options. Let’s not ignore this nourishment for our inner being that prepares us to live with the Lord, and walk with him.

When we are in love with someone, we long for moments alone with them. When we’ve been through tough times, we long for quiet rest—even time secluded in nature. When we are called out of the bustle into that special place, we jump to respond. So here is a verse that speaks to the yearning in our hearts, a message from the One who is love, and loves us intensely. Our hearts can leap to be with him, alone:

Come away, my beloved, and be like a gazelle or like a young stag on the spice-laden mountains. (Song of Solomon 8:14 NIV)

[1] Willard, Dallas. The Spirit of the Disciplines: Understanding How God Changes Lives. (HarperSanFrancisco, 1991),159

[2] Calhoun, Adele Ahlberg. Spiritual Disciplines Handbook: Practices that Transform Us. (Downers Grove, Illinois: IVP Books, 2005), 112

[3] Foster, Richard J. Celebration of Discipline: The Path to Spiritual Growth. (San Francisco: Harper and Row, Publishers). 84

[4] Ibid.

[5] Ibid., 91

[6] Calhoun, 111

Practicing Silence

The words come crashing in
like chattering kids.
They're only in my head
but they are deafening.

I cannot stem the tide.
A billion babblings 
jostle for position.
One sinks, one bubbles up.

He says, "Be silent,"
and I long for quiet
to listen for his voice,
to know that he is God.

I'm desperate to hear him
through the clatter,
within static and
underneath the noise,

Somewhere at a center point
is silence, deep inside
my cluttered cave.
And he is there.

If you’ve been following my journey, you’ve heard about my “sacred grove,” the space in my courtyard in Ferkessédougou, Côte d’Ivoire, where I retreated for about three hours early Saturday mornings. Why was it “sacred”? Because it was “set apart,” consecrated for a spiritual discipline I knew I desperately had to observe. There I could be alone for a small slice of time, and practice being quiet. Well, not really “alone”! I was there with my Lord.

It was essential for my well-being. I needed respite from interactions and from my work in Bible translation that involved delving into several languages. As exegete, I studied the original language versions of texts, Greek or Hebrew, using resources in English, then I explained them in French and Nyarafolo to my coworker, who suggested the Nyarafolo equivalent of that original meaning. It was deep and challenging, and I loved it. But it left my head swirling with concepts and words. And we lived in a culture that valued community highly, so we either had visitors or went visiting many times, and often shared our home with others. It was all a huge blessing., even if we longed for that introvert solace that would strengthen us for the next day.

We were learning that life needs to have sacred rhythms. We need community, we need to love others with our time and energy. Working with words and the Word was (and is) my passion. On the other hand, it can become overwhelming. It’s like running a marathon and not getting rest before taking off in another direction, or like eating constantly without a few hours between meals. The soul needs time to rest, to find space where the deluge of noise retreats and leaves behind a refuge of quiet—like how it feels to leave a busy city and sit under a tree beside a river.

While practicing lectio divina, I was struck by the requirement to be silent that is listed as the final element in the fourth step. After reading the text, meditating on it, asking God for illumination, then comes contemplation. It includes thoughtful prayer, but also listening for God to speak. And in order to hear the other person clearly when in conversation, we need to stop talking.

Do you have an acquaintance who is a non-stop talker? Can you get a word in edgewise? I was convicted, several years ago, of being that kind of a pray-er. I was blabbing my praise, my petitions, my plans to the Lord. Then I went on my way. I was not listening. Brad Jersak uses this illustration: what would it be like to have a friend or loved one call you, give you news, but never give you a chance to respond before they hang up?[1] I was convicted.

When I read Invitation to Solitude and Silence, by Ruth Haley Barton, I knew that I needed to find a way to practice those two aspects of spiritual formation. Without them I was at a blockade, no way forward. The are practices of abstinence, of letting go of something to make space for the Lord to work. I needed to give up my own obsession with thinking, writing, interacting with people and being productive.

When I still had kids at home it was a challenge even to find space for a “quiet time” in the morning. Most times I could squeeze it in while a little one played beside me on the front porch, or the older ones got into their books. Now they were gone, but if I sat on the front porch I would get visitors, kind people coming to greet on their way to work or to go use the well in our back yard. I finally told everyone in our courtyard that on Saturday mornings, if I was sitting under the golden rain trees by the front wall, I was not to be bothered except if something was urgent. I had solitude there, something that is the twin of silence. Sure, there was still the noise of city trucks and people across the road in the town square, but I could learn to switch off my attention to those and learn to be silent. I longed to find peace in the noise, to shut off the tumult of noise in my own inner being, to find silence, and listen.

It took practice, every time. The words roiling within were like a muddy pool after a strong rain—eventually the mud would settle, but it took time. After about an hour I would begin to experience inner quiet. And over and over, I would suddenly feel a prompting about some Scripture I had been reading, how it applied to me or to my work. Or nature around me would speak the Voice. When I grabbed my little notebook and my pen, often a poem would appear on the page. That was how I could “hear” the Voice most clearly.[2]

I know others who find that it is journaling that makes the whisper of the Lord heard to them. For one person, it is graphic art!

Of course what we think we “hear” needs to be measured for authenticity: is this just my own reasoning, or am I really becoming aware of the Lord’s part in this conversation? Does this line up with the Scriptures? Do I sense his reproval, or approval, or a challenge to move in a direction in line with his will? Is he just affirming his love, his presence? The message can take many forms. But as we listen, it draws us closer to our Lord, getting to know him personally as opposed to knowing about him.

As Dallas Willard says, “Only silence will allow us life-transforming concentration upon God.” He cites this verse: in quietness and trust is your strength (Isa. 30:15 NIV).[3]

In order to find a silent space, we need solitude, or at least a company of others who agree to practice silence. My husband and I found a way to do this together as the new year came upon us, parking our car down by the Detroit River, on Belle Isle, with no conversation for a couple of hours. There was peace and safety, but also silence as we watched the water and waited for the Whisper.

And when we practice this appropriately, even alone, we are never alone. After a few years I began calling it “the solitude of two.” Jesus is always there. I was just shaving away the distractions and concentrating on waiting, being quiet, making space for him to do or say what he might be waiting to do in me or say to me.

Practicing that silence during contemplation of Scripture is another essential application of this discipline. We are not only studying what is there, and asking God to keep his promises to us or to work this out in a loved one’s life, etc. It is important to wait, to hear how he wants the text to impact us. We can shut down our constant word-factory and wait, listening.

It can be a daily practice, and also a deeply meaningful one when we carve out a retreat, away from whatever is “normal” for us: busyness, work, physical activities, You-Tube, pleasure reading, games, community, hobbies–even music or conversations.

“From the dawn of time, we have needed our respites. Even the God-man himself was “led by the Spirit into the wilderness” (Matthew 4:1), “went out to a desolate place” (Mark 1:35; Luke 4:42), and “went up on the mountain by himself to pray . . . alone” (Matthew 14:23).”[4]

If I had not obeyed the impulse to spend that time in solitude and silence in my “sacred grove,” there is so much that I would not have heard. My journals are full of notes added after those hours. I know that I would never have had that collection of poems to publish in my book, When He Whispers: Learning to Listen on the Journey ! I also would have missed several lessons he was teaching me, that I was not paying attention to in the middle of the noise. Silence was a learning curve, an important one.

[1] Jersak, Brad. Can You Hear Me: Tuning in to the God Who Speaks. (Fresh Wind Pr; Revised edition, January 1, 2003).

[2] My learning curve is traced in my book that contains some of that poetry:  Boese, Linnea. When He Whispers: Learning to Listen on the Journey. (Westbow Press, 2021).

[3] Willard, Dallas. The Spirit of the Disciplines: Understanding How God Changes Lives. (HarperSanFrancisco, 1991),163

[4] Mathis, David. https://www.desiringgod.org/articles/take-a-break-from-the-chaos

Cling, Be Nourished!

Just cling,
cells interlocked,
bark intact,
and let the sap flow:
slowly but surely
through winter frost,
tingling gently, 
keeping you alive;
vibrantly pouring
when summer sun
saturates the world
with heat; 
a constant feeding 
in the sleep 
of night.
Rest, but cling,
fruit will come!

When I picture myself a branch clinging to the Vine, drinking in the nourishment of that intimate attachment, I am overwhelmed with gratitude that the Source of vibrant healthy Life wants me to be that attached to him. It is a grace, and not something to be ignored—because an unfruitful branch is useless.

Most of all, I want that Vine “sap” to flow into me consistently. Daily “quiet time” is a wonderful habit that makes space for that two-way relationship, for conversation between my Messiah and me. One fruitful practice to include in that time, at least in some regular fashion, is an ancient one called “lectio divina.” It is related to praying Scripture, and also involves contemplating its principles and applying them. Rich!

For years it was dismissed in evangelical circles as a Catholic practice, thus not relevant. But recently it has become increasingly valued for its contribution to development of intimacy with God. It evidently had roots in the Jewish practice of oral reading and memorization of the Scriptures, then was adapted to both private and group practice in the Western church in the fifth century based on its use by the Eastern desert mothers and fathers as a way to encounter God through Scripture[1]. After a while it became relegated to only the “spiritually elete,” and was no longer made available to common people. As a result, “the simplicity and power of praying back to God his holy Scripture also was lost.[2]”

For many Christians, that is true today. Reading the Bible for information is a good practice, but adding a deep desire for spiritual formation through the practice is the other side that is essential to real growth. There are various ways to apply the heritage of lectio divina to personal use, but I appreciate a simple four-step approach that I can remember to apply as I open the Word in my quiet time. It actually is much like inductive study, but includes a greater emphasis on meditation and prayer. These steps are gleaned from several sources:

Lectio: READ Take time to read a passage more than once. This can be done orally, which may be helpful in maintaining focus and using one’s auditory faculties. I find that reading it silently works well for me.

Meditatio: REFLECT What does the text mean? What is God showing me through this passage? What are the principles that are being illustrated?

Oratio: RESPOND Turn your thoughts to direct communication with God. Pray. Use the passage as an outline for your prayer, especially the parts that the Lord has highlighted for you. It is good to turn this into conversation, where you take time to listen to how the Lord responds to what you are praying.

Incarnatio: RESOLVE  How can you live out what the Word has said to you? It may be helpful to make notes, to decide how to apply it concretely. Then go do it.

I find that these steps help me digest what I read, taking time to taste it, chew it, and let it nourish me. It is a practice new to me, one I’ve been implementing the past few weeks.

Let me give an example from my current reading through Acts. In chapters 20 and 21, Paul is eager to get to Jerusalem before Pentecost, and he has to take a long journey through Macedonia and Greece to get there. Along the way, he keeps getting warned that he is going to be rejected, and taken prisoner by the Romans. He had known from the start that hardship was ahead, as it had been in every city, yet he was “compelled by the Holy Spirit” to go anyway (20:22). It was different from other times, when he had avoided danger by leaving a city and going elsewhere (as in 17:13-15). Now he knew he must consider his life worth nothing. His one purpose was to accomplish whatever purpose his Lord had for him (20:24), sharing the Good News. He was saying goodbyes and encouraging believers to run that same race.

As I read sections of those chapters over the course of several days, I also reread them. Part of my contemplation has been taking time to also read the letters he eventually wrote to the communities where he had ministered, to add those teachings to what he knew was important for each one. I meditated on this commitment to obedience, no matter the cost. It spoke to me. Sometimes in my own life the Lord had told Glenn and me that it was time to escape danger, as when we evacuated from civil war in Côte d’Ivoire in 2022. And then there have been times when he said to leave fear behind and go do what he was putting before us, as when we returned to rebel-held territory there, three and a half years later.

What is he saying to me now? This has been underlined: I need to be listening to the Spirit for counsel, but meanwhile, continue to do what he has set before me until he makes a change or addition. Just like Paul, I need to be ready to stay where the Lord is using me right now, or go where he says there is a task he wants me to do. I re-evaluate my preoccupations, laying them out before him in prayer. Right now I know that he has assigned me the work of re-entering a full-time commitment to Bible translation, a complete change of direction from my activities during the last few years of retirement. He has told me to see it as his continued purpose for me, what he has prepared for me to do. Of what value is my life if I use it only for freedom from “work”—when instead he wants me to “complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me” (20:24). My life is not my own; it is his. I gave it to him decades ago. And that is what matters. I realize, too, that he is giving me joy on this journey.

Paul’s farewell to the Ephesian elders (20:1-28) is especially meaningful to me. As I pray through it, not just once but over several days of quiet times, I remember the wrenching farewells with our Nyarafolo “family” as we said goobye to different groups and retired, moving on to this phase. And my Lord is reinforcing the essential assignment given me (it is not over yet!), to spread the news of his grace wherever I am, whether through translation of his Word or in conversations with my neighborhood walking group. This is that important last step of Incarnatio, putting what I “hear” into practice in my life.

The process of lectio divina can be done with a short section of text in one sitting, but it is also worth practicing over days or weeks, depending on the length of the text being contemplated and the purpose given the disciple by the Lord. It is a useful approach to making sure that attachment to the Vine is a priority, being fed—a way of focusing on intimacy with our Master/Friend/Jesus, listening to his teaching and promptings as we digest that treasure of his Word, our daily nourishment:

so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, 18 may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, 19 and to know this love that surpasses knowledge– that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God. (Eph. 3:17 NIV)

As Adele Calhoun says, “Lectio divina invites us into God’s presence to listen for his particular, loving word to me at this particular moment in time[3].”

[1] Westerfield, Gloria Jean. “Lectio Divina: A Contemplative Approach to Intimacy with God.” (Asbury Theological Seminary ePlac; Dissertations, 2014), 29. https://place.asburyseminary.edu/ecommonsatsdissertations/688/

[2] Ibid., 30.

[3] Calhoun, Adele Ahlberg. Spiritual Disciplines Handbook: Practices that Transform Us. (Downers Grove, Illinois: IVP Books, 2005), 168.

In the House of Love

He makes his home in me.

And I, I live inside

this house of love,

his banner flapping bright above,

his pleasure my desire.

I bring him blooms to grace

the place he sets for me

(no matter that, outdoors,

corruption slimes the world

and evil lurks in gray).

I will not fear. For he is here,

my God, and where he is

we live in love. He who made

the jasmine and the violets

for his delight and mine

smells the worship in my offering

and smiles. Together we

will garrison my strength

against the storm here where it’s warm.

What does it mean to you, the truth that if you are God’s child, he lives in you? I know it takes a while for this to become truly relevant to a believer. Then, once the reality hits home, how does it influence the way that their relationship with God is understood? At first he seems far away, a God who loves his people but is seated on his throne. We keep on waiting for Jesus to return. The Spirit is to be our guide, our counselor, but we cannot see him.

And yet the Word says:

I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. (Gal. 2:20 NIV)

I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith.  (Eph. 3:16-17a NIV)

Christ lives in me!  Christ dwells in me—he makes his home in me!

When I began to purposefully set time aside to be with my Abba Father, my Master, my Jesus, I was still very young. All I did was read a few verses, pray briefly to put my concerns in his hands, and launch into the day.

Then InterVarsity Christian Fellowship, at MSU, taught me how to apply the inductive approach to leading Bible studies. We used it in groups, and it was a few years later that I realized I could apply it to my own time in the Word. It requires just three simple steps: observation (the facts in the text, who/what/where/when/why/how), interpretation (what does the text mean? what principles are underlined?), then application (how does this apply to me and to my context?)[1].

After a while, constant practice began making use of this method my new normal. It increased the impact of Scripture on my life and deepened my love for that “quiet time” set apart each morning for the Word. Eventually I added in journaling. Then my mission experiences made me yearn for yet deeper growth, and I researched spiritual formation—an ongoing passion.

A primal truth was beginning to become rooted in all this, one I had been taught since I was a child but that had not had much impact on me: that Jesus lives in me!

. . . God has chosen to make known among the Gentiles the glorious riches of this mystery, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory. (Col. 1:27 NIV)

I was now married, learning that, when you live with someone, you need to talk to each other and truly share life. It is the only way for love and mutual understanding to grow. Jesus lives in me through his Spirit, and that is where all my hope has firm roots. In fact he is in me, and I am in him!

Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, (Rom. 8:1 NIV)

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here! (2 Cor. 5:17 NIV)

In this context, being “in” Christ refers to being in a relationship with him, belonging to him. So how could I work at strengthening that astonishing, amazing relationship?

The Word of God is available to me, in my language. I can study it, not zipping through some daily ritual of a few verses then moving onward into whatever was going on. It is nourishment for the soul, like daily bread—what we beg for in “The Lord’s Prayer.”

I know that many who are in the Lord’s Family are consistently having a daily “quiet time.” So I was taken aback by a title in the April 2023 issue of Christianity Today, “Wasting Quiet Time: If daily devotionals aren’t yielding true Bible fluency, is there a better way?[2]” Reading it, I saw that the authors were reacting to evidence they have seen in their ministries that “Bible literacy has been on an increasingly steep decline” in the United States, even for those who have daily “devotions[3].” They attribute it to “micro-dosing,” a practice of dipping into a few verses, even at random, instead of devoting oneself to true immersion in the Scriptures, which is often called “Scripture engagement.” Evidently surveys have shown that a smaller percentage of Christians even read the Bible daily than in the last decade, and many of those who do read it are not interacting with it in such a way as to find it applicable to their growth.

We can turn that around! Those authors recommend a greater emphasis on communal reading of Scripture, and that definitely has value, especially in contexts where it is not only a liturgical reading of a passage but also group discussion. That is where inductive study in groups is so useful.

But I am positive that meaningful individual interaction with the Word, applying oneself to truly understand passages in context and be spiritually nourished, is essential. We cannot depend on community reading alone to meet this need. Each of us can learn to do what contributes to our growth by doing what the Lord warned was necessary:

Jesus answered, “It is written: ‘Man shall not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.'” (Matt. 4:4 NIV, cf Deut. 8:3)

For those of us who have the Word at our fingertips, available in audio format as well, not digesting the Word is like being invited to a feast that includes all the most nutritious and delicious foods in the world and walking right past it all. If we let the Lord bless us with this food, we are strengthened, as John said in his letter:

I have written to you, children, that you have known the Father.I have written to you, fathers, that you have known him who has been from the beginning. I have written to you, young people, that you are strong, and the word of God resides in you, and you have conquered the evil one. (1 Jn. 2:14 NET)

Knowing God, relishing his taking up residence in us, walking through life with him and being increasingly strengthened, is fundamental. It is an intimate relationship, sharing every minute, every incident. If we ignore this undeserved, gracious benefit, it is as if we move in with someone and then every day say, “Good morning!’, walk out the door and treat them as no longer a companion.

And it is obvious that what he has told us, what he gave us in his Word, is key for knowing him and what he is teaching us. We are not to treat the Scriptures as a snack, but as our basic food. When translating what Jesus said, that he is the “Bread of Life,” into Nyarafolo, we had to decide what word to use for “bread.” There is a borrowed word used for the French baguettes brought into the country through the colonists, used as a side dish or quick snack along the road. A translation consultant explained that using it would not communicate the truth in this context, that this is not an occasional treat  but refers to the staple food (for Jews, the hearty bread accompanied with other sauces etc.). We grabbed that truth and used the Nyarafolo word for the basic starch that was for the daily meal, the “food.” And I learned a delightful truth. In English, “bread” referred to a side dish as well. Whereas when God gave manna to the wandering Israelites as their staple food, it was all they had to eat while in the desert. It was perishable, though, and so were those who ate it. But Jesus is the Bread of Life:

Your ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness, yet they died. 50 But here is the bread that comes down from heaven, which anyone may eat and not die. 51 I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats this bread will live forever. This bread is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world.” (Jn. 6:49 NIV)

Jesus lives in us, and we live in him (digest John 17:13-23 for Jesus’ words about this amazing relationship and what it means). We need to get to know him better and better, not only thinking about what that means when we take communion. He left his Word with us, and we need to respect it as our staple food. Let’s enjoy the feast, and find ways to really pay attention to it, not wasting our daily “quiet time” but finding true nourishment there.

We’ll be investigating various study methods in the coming weeks, ways to truly do that! Peace to all of you who are in Christ. (1 Pet. 5:14 NIV)

[1] For more on how to do inductive study, one good resource is https://www.logos.com/grow/how-to-inductive-bible-study/ .

[2] Johnson, Dru and Durgin, Celina. “Wasting Quiet Time: If daily devotionals aren’t yielding true Bible fluency, is there a better way?” Christianity Today, April 2023. pp 62-71.

[3] Ibid., 69.






 
 
 

	


	





	

		
Powering Up
	


	
	

		






Exhaustion depresses
like bricks on foam
squeezing out air,
leaving you heavy,
squished, flat-out dense.

Sleep and love,
contemplation,
are nectar, nutrients
(just eat what fits).
Breathe in, exhale.

Find a place 
deep inside
a favorite space:
grab a book; take a look
at what brings you joy. 

In time you’ll stretch,
get back up
and power up
for life as usual,
ready to go, restored.

When you feel like you really need a break from “life as usual,” whatever that is for you, how do you get re-energized?  There are phases of life when it seems next to impossible, like when a mom is dealing with a newborn, or you’ve taken on a second job to make ends meet, or sickness has changed all plans. What a blessing it is if you live in a family or community where you can get some help!

But some of us are also prone to saying “yes” to too many things, or to viewing everything else as more important than ourselves. We may be in ministry and feel selfish if we take time off. Missionary life often had us in that kind of grip. Sometimes burnout was actually hovering, waiting for us to collapse. And I began to wonder: why did Jesus leave the crowds and go off to a mountain, on his own or with just a few friends? Of course, he was a man of prayer and needed that time with the Father. But he also was modeling a change of pace.

We often felt that we had to drive to a place far away to find that kind of protected environment, like the beach down south in Côte d’Ivoire. But then during our last decade there a new safe spot opened up: a place called “EcoFerme,” featuring an open-air restaurant with a deck built over the Bandama River just about  a half hour from home. If we went early in the day, no other guests were there. We could watch the water flowing by, listen to birdsong, talk quietly to each other. Ahhhhh! (The photo above was taken there on one such retreat.)

It was hard not to question whether it was right to take the time to do something like that. It did feel "less selfish" when we would take national friends or mission coworkers and share the delight. But we were also well aware that we needed to take care of ourselves in order to stay healthy in body and in our inner being, and for us, sometimes that meant time alone!

God made each of us, knowing us from the day we were conceived:
13 For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. 14 I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. 15 My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth. 16 Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.  (Ps. 139:13-16 NIV)

When we make something, we care about it. If I have baked a cake and left it cooling on a rack, I don’t want some careless child to hop through the kitchen swinging a toy and knock it off the counter. When my husband spent days installing laminate on the floors of our old house, replacing worn carpet, we all began to make special efforts to wipe up any liquid that fell on it. God made our bodies and our inner being, and cares about how we use them. He even wants us to take good care of them. I think of Psalm 23, and how the Good Shepherd leads his flock beside still waters and in green pastures; he also spreads a table of food before his dear ones and fills their cup to the brim. So should we not cooperate with him?

This does not give us license to waste our time and money in lavish ways that take no consideration of how he is guiding us. It does not mean caving in to addictions that may drive us, such as unhealthy use of food or drink or drugs, entertainment, or adrenaline-soothing activities.
 
But he made it a rule that one day out of seven should be a day of rest. And he wants us to take care of the bodies he made for us. By turning away from harmful activities and following his counsel, we can thrive:
Do not be wise in your own eyes; fear the LORD and shun evil. 8 This will bring health to your body and nourishment to your bones. (Prov. 3:7 NIV)

Another command that always comes to my mind when I reflect on self-care is the one to “love your neighbor as you love yourself,” referenced over and over (Lev 19:18,34; Mat 19:19 and 22:39; Mark 12.31,33; Luke 10:27; Rom 13:9; Gal 5:14; James 2:8). If it is repeated that many times in all those contexts, it is indeed essential for living in a way that conforms to God’s values. And it is impossible to love one’s neighbor appropriately if one does not love themselves and take care of themselves as they should.

You have probably heard much of what is out there about taking good care of yourself physically, mentally and emotionally. Weighing what we read or hear against what the Word says is necessary. Listening to a wise mentor or prayer partner, sharing our challenges also can smooth the path. Physical and emotional issues change with seasons of life and have their impact. But we can choose to do what is right to keep ourselves healthy and useful to the Lord for his purposes. If we don’t take care of ourselves it will wear us down. So it is right to exercise, pay attention to nutrition, work at getting good sleep and take a break when needed. It is right to thank God for who he made us to be, how he designed us, and to honor those gifts.

Jesus loved us so much he gave himself for us. Part of being grateful for his love, and for the gift of life, is to treat that gift with respect. When we value ourselves the way that he does, we can then value others that way too. I see that as another way to understand loving ourselves and then loving others the same way. Just as we do not want to do harm to ourselves, we don’t want to do harm to others. Instead, we want health to reign in every way possible. When it is not possible to change a situation, we need to lean on our Father, Lord, Shepherd, Guide. He will direct our steps. When I am his, he lives in me, and will show me how to take care of this shared dwelling.

I am glad that he values rest, sustenance and loving relationships. He intended the world to be founded on those. Because of its brokenness, we will go through times when suffering, deprivation or evil actions cut into them. But each of us can do our part to live by his values, honoring the bodies he gave us and our needs for well-being, respecting the opportunities given to us.

As Adele Calhoun puts it, self-care that accompanies spiritual formation is “practicing self-awareness rather than self-absorption,” and “valuing yourself as Jesus values you.”  Is is to “intentionally receive ourselves as God’s own beloved,”[1]  which empowers us to love and forgive both ourselves and others.  This gives me permission to work at having healthy limits and to take advantage of the opportunities that he gives me to take care of myself – even sitting by a river in the company of birds instead of always being hard at work!
  
[1] Calhoun, Adele Ahlberg. Spiritual Disciplines Handbook: Practices that Transform Us. (Downers Grove, Illinois: IVP Books, 2005), 71,72.












	


	





	

		
All I Have is Yours
	


	
	

		






This month you told me,
“Hold on lightly to possessions;
all you have is mine.”
Then you brought me
chances to let go:
my sweater to the shivering boy,
my shirt to the cadavre
(swollen past the size of her own clothes),
my mat to the child who had no bed,
my socks to help the traveler.
Yes, all I have is yours!






At the time, I thought I was pretty good at letting go of things that meant a lot to me. After all, I was a missionary who had left the comforts of America for a much simpler lifestyle in West Africa, in a tough climate, with limited availability of most goods. We had said to goodbye to our children as they grew up and went to college. After all, I loved the song: “All to Jesus I surrender, all to him I freely give . . .” I had dedicated my life to following him.





Then I met a series of challenges to my self-image. Maybe I was not so unattached to my possessions as I had thought. I was in a crowd at a celebration, one of the only foreigners there. As the cool air of night began to push away the daytime warmth, a little boy near me began to shiver. I had reached into my bag to pull out my light sweater, having thought ahead. But the sight of his quiet self-hugs, attempts to warm up, touched my heart. I wrapped my sweater around him. Felt kind of good to know I had done the right thing!





Then one of our night guards suddenly lost his young adult daughter to death when she was poisoned by an outdated medication purchased in the market. He was one of our Nyarafolo believers, and we quickly joined the crowd gathering to accompany them in their grief. Because I had a car, I was asked to take several women relatives to the hospital morgue to prepare the body for burial. As we stood around the cadaver, the oldest one took the lead, gently bathing the corpse. They had found one of the young woman’s best outfits to dress her in, a fancy top and wrap skirt. The skirt was adjustable so it fit, but her upper body was swollen as a result of the poisoning; the blouse would not go on. I felt the strong prompt from the Lord: “Your t-shirt is stretchy; give it to them.” I did. It stretched enough to cover her. I wrapped my own wrap-skirt higher to cover my chest and drove the women by my house, so I could find a top to wear. I had loved the soft t-shirt I had just donated; it was one of my newest, softest ones. But it was right to have met that need.





Other moments began to hit me like that, one after another. Not only were my possessions not my own, time was not my own. We had been working at building relationships in the community. Now visitors were showing up during meals (which naturally, in that cultue, the host shares) or in the evening when we were hoping to relax and head to bed. Even personal space needed to viewed as dispensable. A new pastor and his wife were desperate for housing while getting settled; we had empty bedrooms. Now all of life was shared, time and house space as well.





We saw the Lord provide for others through us, but we also were learning what it really means to relinquish our hold on what we treasure. He was showing us where we needed to loosen our grip on certain aspects of life we deemed our own. It was worth it, as we entered into a new kind of freedom from being chained to those things.





The process the Lord was taking us through is called in many circles “detachment.” Eastern religions use it to work at getting rid of the things that tie you down and limit the forms of spiritual development that are their goal. In Buddhism, for example, “The Law of Detachment indicates that we should give up our attachment to things, which doesn’t mean that we give up our goals; we don’t give up the intention but rather the interest in the outcome. At first glance, it may seem a trifle or an insubstantial change but in fact, is a huge transformation in the way we understand the world and our way of living. . . At that time, we adopt a more relaxed attitude, and though it may seem counterintuitive, it is easier to get what we want. This is because the detachment is built upon trust in our potential, while attachment is based on fear of loss and insecurity.”[1] For that philosophy of detachment, the element to get rid of is the fear of loss, gaining “trust in our potential.”  Hinduism views it similarly, insulate yourself from the emotional effects of setbacks and failures in both your personal and professional lives . . .  removing worry and anxiety from your mind. You can also increase your chances of success by concentrating on your own performance rather than the results.”[2]





Contrast those uses of detachment with what Ignatius wrote, that detachment is about “making use of those things that help to bring us closer to God and leaving aside those things that don’t.”[3] This is what makes sense to me. It requires following the Spirit’s guidance as he shows us what those things are, whether it is through the Word or experiences—like the ones I was going through. Learning detachment was not only about becoming less selfish or anxious, although those were some of the consequences. It was not just about achieving my goals. It was about joining the Lord in his purposes in ways that a person could not while they are clutching to “rights” or possessions.





Adele Calhoun summarizes the practice as replacing our various attachments to anything with “wholehearted attachment to and trust in God alone.”[4]





When we were trying to translate the concept of being “godly” into Nyarafolo, a French translation (Français Courant) gave us a great solution, being “attached to God.” As that attachment grows in maturity and health, we learn to truly live as he desires. And his ways are all good ways. They do not conform to all cultural expectations, including views of possessions, status, productivity, and relationships that are self-serving rather than God-serving.





Sound radical? Yes! Learning to “let go” is a process that requires dedication. In fact, it is ongoing. There will come a time when we need to let go of this life, too. Mortality is reality.





For the moment, what is important is “keeping company with Jesus in the letting go.”[5] He will show us what that means in our situations. It is not about retreating to live alone in a cave, with literally no possessions or obligations except those viewed as necessary to one’s own growth. It is about following his lead in each circumstance, not letting anything get in the way of obedience.





When Jesus sent out his disciples on their first mission, he told them: “Take nothing for the journey except a staff– no bread, no bag, no money in your belts.” (Mk. 6:8 NIV) He was teaching them to rely on his provision. When we left for Africa, he did not tell us to go without anything, but to take what would give our family stability. We did have to figure out how to live simply while having what was needed for our ministry and for the kids’ well-being. Once there, we had to be ready to be yet more flexible as we learned about cultural values that we needed to adapt to, good cultural values like “open house, open home” with respect for community.





None of this is said to vaunt us! It was not always easy! But that learning process sanded off many rough spots in our character and showed us increasingly what it meant “to live for Christ” (Phil. 1:21), and more and more what this radical verse means:





“I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.” (Gal. 2:20 NIV)





When I reflect on the life that Jesus lived, going where he needed to go to complete his mission, depending on his followers for sustenance, not looking for accolades from the VIPs of his nation, I am encouraged again to just follow him. He knows the plan and the purpose he has for me. I am not to let earthly attachments keep me from discovering what that purpose is and living it out!





Wouldn’t it be wonderful to hear those longed-for words from our beloved Master some day: “Well done, good and faithful servant!”? Yes!





So let’s practice detachment. Let’s let go of attachments that get in the way of loving others the way Jesus loved us and gave himself for us, whether they are attachments to wealth, status, labels, time, privacy, the approval of others, or any addictions. I am still learning as he directs my life into activities and places I had not dreamed of. I am so grateful for his patience and the way he does indeed lighten the load I am carrying by showing me what things need to be dropped, and what things he values. He also gives us many other good practices to be attached to, like ones I’ve already been contemplating in this blog: celebration, worship, rest, journaling. Self-care is important, and I’ve had to learn a lot about that too. What is key is being free to “run the race” he has given us:





Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, 2 fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. (Heb. 12:1 NIV)





This hymn, written by Judson W. Van De Venter back in 1855 on a farm here in Michigan, really nails it:





1 All to Jesus I surrender,
All to Him I freely give;
I will ever love and trust Him,
In His presence daily live.





Refrain:
I surrender all, I surrender all;
All to Thee, my blessed Savior,
I surrender all.










[1] Delgado, Jennifer.  https://psychology-spot.com/the-law-of-detachment-what-can-we-learn/  





[2] Yadav, Amisha. Vairagya: Hindu Art of Detachment





[3] Ignatius, First Principle and Foundation, quoted in  https://www.ignatianspirituality.com/ignatian-prayer/the-spiritual-exercises/the-meaning-of-detachment/





[4][4] Calhoun, Adele Ahlberg. Spiritual Disciplines Handbook: Practices that Transform Us. (Downers Grove, Illinois: IVP Books, 2005), 95.





[5] Ibid.

	


	





	

		
Pen in Hand
	


	
	

		






pen in hand
the words press out
anxious for paper
a place to live

the silence sizzles
sentient and longing
standing on tiptoe
to read the news

what I am hearing
what has been forming
in hidden spaces
how I’ve been growing

invisible
the thoughts take on
colors and edges
given a page





Yes, my pen is a tool, an instrument that provides a way to notice what is going on in my life and in the world. Every morning I pick up the notebook set aside for this time in my life and write a summary of what matters to me: what’s been happening, what I am grateful for, what is challenging, what I am learning. And I write at least one prayer that issues from all that, setting it apart with a little symbol I’ve chosen. Then I wait. When I believe that Abba has reminded me of a truth, spoken to my heart in response, I write that down with a symbol for “what I heard him say.” Then, when reading Scripture or another book that is helping me grow spiritually, I often write down those verses or words that have been underlined as important for me.





This has helped me to consistently pay attention to what I am learning, when I have stumbled, and what my Lord is teaching me. I know not everyone finds a pen to be that friendly and helpful—even my husband and son have not been able to get into it. They prefer sharing audibly with someone close to them, or just contemplation done in privacy. What is important is discovering what practice prevents life from just slipping by. We miss out when we do not notice major themes our Counselor is highlighting, or even the smallest fingerprints of God on our lives and our spiritual growth.





He knows all that is going on, inside and out in the world around us, and he cares about it all. Do I pay attention?





You have searched me, LORD, and you know me. 2 You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. 3 You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways. 4 Before a word is on my tongue you, LORD, know it completely. 5 You hem me in behind and before, and you lay your hand upon me. 6 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain.  (Ps. 139:1 NIV)





To even gain an inkling of how Yahweh is paying attention to me, I need to return that focus. I journal with my pen, and often the deepest insight comes to me when a poem begins to sing in my heart and I follow through, writing it down. Most days it is just words on paper, a recounting of what has happened, especially any hurts or struggles, any joys or successes, any words of Scripture or a song that are making my heart take a leap.





A  prayer journal that notes requests and answers is another great instrument.





There are other ways to keep track of such things if writing is not your thing. Calhoun suggests making scrapbooks, for yourself or for others.[1] I found a very worn scrapbook handed down through several generations while cleaning up at the heritage cabin in the forest left to me and my siblings by our parents. It was a collection of clippings, poems, verses, sermon notes, and poems. We don’t know who put it together, but it obviously represented what had been meaningful to them over the years.





For some, it is drawing that gives them that outlet, art as a “pen.” That is a gift.





For people who need personal exchanges, finding a prayer partner who also revels in that kind of mutual sharing can be deeply meaningful. The trick is remembering to be open, sharing one’s spiritual learning curve and preoccupations.





Calhoun’s list of “God-given fruit” that comes from this practice is stimulating:





    

  • keeping company with Jesus through reflection
    • 




  • listening to God, praying your life
    • 




  • slowing down and noticing where God shows up in the “ordinary”
    • 




  • noting God’s faithfulness in your life journey
    • 




  • becoming aware of phases and stages of your own pilgrimage[2]
    • 






Sometimes journals become a legacy for others. Have you read published journals that inspire? I was actually afraid that someone might read my journals, and for a moment it kept me from being “too open” in what I write. After years of filling small notebooks I began to tell myself that no one would ever have the patience to read them anyway. I still used some personal coding for certain reflections or episodes, but mostly I experienced new freedom in confessing my faults as well as my progress. If anyone ever reads them they will need  to have a deep motivation that doesn’t seem likely at all!





On the other hand, some of what I journal becomes the fruit that the Lord prompts me to share with others, such as the poetry that came from those moments that I published in When He Whispers: Learning to Listen on the Journey. And some of my growth moments get shared when I am asked to speak. Either way, that is God at work, using this daily spiritual discipline for his purposes.





It is possible to reserve journaling for special moments like a spiritual retreat, or to do it weekly or monthly, whatever is appropriate for one’s instincts or time availability. When I had babies, I definitely found it tough to count on much private space! Later I found that I really needed to journal when going through deep waters; it was a way to debrief after evacuation from a war zone, and after going through a season of relational ruptures. I often added notes from key discussions or meetings. All of them are resources for my own contemplation now, a long shelf in my library holding a row of a huge variety of large and small notebooks. (They are very helpful for writing those phases of life in my memoir!)





David Mathis, executive editor at desiringgod.com, summarizes a key goal of journaling this way: “What if journaling wasn’t simply about recording the past, but preparing for the future? And what if, because of God’s grace in our past and his promises for our future, journaling was about deepening your joy in the present?”[3]





He goes on to say, “Journaling is a way of slowing life down for just a few moments, and trying to process at least a sliver of it for the glory of God, our own growth and development, and our enjoyment of the details. Journaling has the appeal of mingling the motions of our lives with the mind of God. Permeated with prayer, and saturated with God’s word, it can be a powerful way of hearing God’s voice in the Scriptures and making known to him our requests. Think of it as a subdiscipline of Bible intake and prayer. Let a spirit of prayer pervade, and let God’s word inspire, shape, and direct what you ponder and pen.”[4]





I love the way he puts it, and I can testify that journaling has done this powerful work for me.





However you implement such practices to attain these spiritual goals, may the Lord use that instrument to bring you joy and a safe space for processing your journey!










[1] Calhoun, Adele Ahlberg. Spiritual Disciplines Handbook: Practices that Transform Us. (Downers Grove, Illinois: IVP Books, 2005), 56.





[2] Ibid.





[3] Mathis, David. Journal as a Pathway to Joy, July 30, 2014.  https://www.desiringgod.org/articles/journal-as-a-pathway-to-joy





[4] Ibid.

	


	





	

		
A Contemplative Life
	


	
	

		












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Checking Out My Ways
	


	
	

		






This I desire: integrity— 
heart and mind
undivided
unfragmented
undistracted
truly focused
deeply centered
all transparent
and devoted—
set apart
for only You.

So take this moment:
give me grace
to know truth
see your hand
understand
what you did
how you worked
what I did
what it meant—
how to live
set apart
for only You.






There is that healthy moment before going to sleep when gratitude is the focus, settling the mind into peace. Then comes morning, the start of a new day, with time set aside for worship and preparation. For me, that includes journaling, praying Scriptures, studying Scriptures, and prayer—mostly intercession. But there is another spiritual discipline that has crept into those sacred rhythms, that I want to develop. It increases one’s recognition of God’s presence and promotes confession, healing, and ongoing growth.





It is called “examen.” That comes from Latin, meaning “examination,” and is still used in French for “test.” Back in the 16th century, Ignatius required his Jesuit companions to practice this form of contemplative prayer at noon and before sleep. Perhaps that Catholic origin has kept it hidden from most of us Protestants, but it is becoming recognized as a powerful tool for developing spiritual awareness and discernment.





My daily schedule would make noon and bedtime difficult moments for this kind of contemplative prayer, at least most of the time. But while reviewing it I realized that my morning “quiet time” is already incorporating it. Journaling takes me back through the previous day and leads me to write short prayers that come out of that review.





I found a very helpful outline of steps for practicing the examen published by Baylor University,[1] and will be using it to structure my personal process in the morning. Perhaps it will be helpful for some of you as well. It is adapted from the online site of Gravity Center—and I recently finished reading Mindful Silence, written by one of the founders of that center and a spiritual director there, Phileena Heuertz.[2] Here are the five classic points:





    

  1. Acknowledge an awareness of God’s Presence.
    2. 




  2. Review the day in a posture of gratitude.
    3. 




  3. Recognize a “Consolation” and a “Desolation” from the day.
    4. 




  4. Choose a “Desolation” to pray into.
    5. 




  5. Look with hope for new tomorrow.
    6. 






Baylor’s site makes an important point: “Often, the Examen awakens the practitioner to the Divine through routine or ordinary moments to illustrate the subtle and surprising ways God speaks. This prayer practice helps cultivate and refine discernment as well as an awareness of God’s presence.”[3]





Some terms in the classic outline need definition.





A “consolation” is something that took place for which you are deeply grateful, especially one that reminded you of God’s presence and love. Did you notice a fruit of the Spirit being lived out in your walk? What part of the day felt the most life-giving?[4]





A “desolation” is something that took place that distressed you, that felt the most life-thwarting. It may even have made you question God’s nearness. It is the moment for which you are the least grateful.[5] Was it that you demonstrated a lack of one of the fruits of the Spirit? It may lead to confession, and determination to practice change in that area.





The goal that inspires me is “keeping company with Jesus throughout the highs and lows of the day.[6] I have already experienced that benefit through the years of journaling those moments and reflecting on what they mean.





This can also be used as a part of a retreat, focusing on what has been happening during the past month, the past six months, or the past year.[7] It provides a sound base for praying regarding guidance for the future as you recognize themes, whether they are about your learning curve, ministry, or even a need to change in some area. What has God been doing? What have you been doing? What patterns are evident?





This practice reminds us that God is near and at work in us, even when things happen that are uncomfortable or painful. They cause us to rely increasingly on his grace. Perhaps that increased reliance on him is actually the best part! I have noticed that I am more aware of my weaknesses, my stumbling. I have seen this as one way that God prompts me to turn from certain attitudes and failures and grow in healthier directions. Using the structure of examen will make the process more rigorous, and help me to be more attentive to God’s prompts toward both change and actions that flow from spiritual fruit.





This reminder in Scripture has been a tremendous reassurance to me on my life journey: You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways. (Ps. 139:3 NIV)  He knows all that I do, everywhere I am. This is great comfort, because he loves me. When I contemplate what has been happening, it gives an opening for him to use his insight to prompt me towards more spiritual growth.





As my constant companion, he is the one empowering me to live the way that I should: So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. (Isa. 41:10 NIV)





He wants me to grow! Paul wrote it this way: And this is my prayer: that your love may abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight, 10 so that you may be able to discern what is best and may be pure and blameless for the day of Christ, (Phil. 1:9 NIV)





May it be so!










[1] Baylor>Spiritual Life>Mindfulness>Examen  https://www.baylor.edu/spirituallife/index.php?id=971624





[2] Heuertz, Phileena. Mindful Silence: The Heart of Christian Contemplation. (IVP Books, InterVarsity Press: Downers Grove, IL: 2018)





[3] Baylor.





[4] Calhoun, Adele Ahlberg. Spiritual Disciplines Handbook: Practices that Transform Us. (Downers Grove, Illinois: IVP Books, 2005), 52-53.





[5] Ibid.





[6] Ibid., 52.





[7] Ibid., 54.