The Abandonment of Mystery

Last week I stood in a holy place, a building where worship has happened for more than sixteen hundred years. I came face to face with mystery. And it was beautiful, though I cannot describe just how or why. And I don't want to try.
Candles flickered. Incense smoked from a censor. Ancient chants enfolded the space. But they were not in themselves the manifestation of "presence." No, that was invisible, yet very real.
From the perspective of my protestant background, these expressions are foreign at best--unnecessary at worst. Yet--as the years roll on, and I journey along the path of faith; I sometimes feel bored with the pathway. It is so well lit with bright incandescent bulbs, and swept clean of any ritual. It is safe and explainable. I can stand with a couple reciting wedding vows, or in the waters of baptism or at the table serving communion and tell you exactly what is happening, reciting which things are symbols of what realities. But in my heart I know that I am standing in the midst of the unexplainable, misrepresenting what I know...and don't know.
Is there no longer any patience or room for mystery in our Christian world? Must all be clearly explained, sung about and performed with precision? Three points to learn or eight reasons why or seven sins to avoid. All things so tidy, so complete, so concise...and so grossly inadequate.
I struggle with how we wrap up the almighty into such trite and mundane formulae. If God is anything, God is mystery. And our desertion of that mystery has made God seem inane and unnecessary to the souls around us.
We need mystery. We need the unexplainable. We need God, not a definable idol. Bishop Kallistos Ware speaks of this reality in The Orthodox Way, a book which has probably impacted me over the past ten years more than any other. He says something like this:
Moses first saw God in a burning bush. Bright and clear.
Then he saw him in both fire and cloud. Bright and dark.
Then he met him in thick cloud of unknowing. Dark and unclear.

Is it possible that spiritual maturity could be marked by decreasing spiritual clarity? Isn't it plausible that in our relationship with God, the closer we get, the more mysterious God is to us?
Loved and dear, but so very distant and longed for.

Queueing-up for the New Year

Mystery hushes us. It blasts away incessant mind-chatter. It chokes words into silence.

We stand at the edge of the canyon; or by the side of the sea; or at the foot of a mountain. Quiet. Awe.

Vows exchanged by glistening eyes, clammy hands and trembling voices.

Hearing, It's cancer.

The birth of a healthy new child.

Holding-onto a dear friend as they breath their last.

And now we queue-up to a new year. We hear a whisper pleading with us: Take off your shoes, This is holy ground. 

Will we remove them? Will we listen? Do we believe?

Avoiding prayer for all worth: The Mystery Factor

I want to write a bit about mystery, and more specifically about God as mystery. Many of us dislike any sense of uncertainty or mystery when it comes to God. We want to be able to describe his ways perfectly. It is expected that with enough Bible Studies under our belt, we can move beyond mystery and into knowledge or certainty. People come to me asking very difficult theological questions, assuming that if one has studied long and hard enough, he can live beyond mystery--that she can give exacting answers to the most difficult of questions.

We want a definable God with definable ways.

Sorry to burst the bubble, but I'm afraid we don't have one of those.

When Abraham was called by God, he was invited to go to a place that he did not know. Abraham was invited into mysterious living. His calling wasn't to what he could see or understand, but into obedience in places and time when God would seem to make no sense. His marriage, his fatherhood, his role as an uncle and patriarch were in all ways confusing. Read his story in Genesis 12 and following, and tell me you think he perceived God as anything but mysterious.

But when we pray, we want to get right down to the facts. We will tell God how things are and then define the appropriate divine response. "Lord, you know so and so has these problems, and we ask you to take them away." We assume God will solve problems exactly as we imagine.

So when I repeat prayers in order to center myself in God's presence, those prayers are not of my own writing. They are however, very much from my heart and will. I pray, "Lord Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy on me." for long periods of time, and then I come to the place where I feel comfortable switching to "Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on ___________." And in the blank I insert a person or situation or church or whatever.

In our western way of thinking, if we are not independent to pray what we want and how we want, then our prayers are not authentic. I disagree.

Often in our evangelical protestant way of thinking, if prayers are memorized, they must be only empty ritual. Again I disagree. And I do so because I believe that God is mystery, "his paths beyond searching out." And my task in prayer is not to instruct him, but to humbly place myself before him...as in the prayer above. Or as in the "Lord's Prayer," with its phrase: "Your kingdom come, your will be done on earth as it is in heaven."

Thoughts?

(Over the past couple of weeks I have been silent here. Our family lost a dear loved one, and we spent most of two weeks in California. I apologize for the lack of attention to this site, however, obviously my heart and attentions were rightly placed elsewhere.)

Preparing for Advent--One More Time

It is far too simple to stand on the outside, and think I know what is inside. As I approach Advent, it is far too easy to assume that the titles, texts and themes I prepared in early October are completed projects. We know what's going to happen, right? The Word becomes flesh. God is with us. Don't be afraid. A virgin with child. Approaching Advent can feel like a late year return to the same old amusement park, with a well worn season pass.

But this is no time for amusement. "A-muse".
"A" = not.
"Muse" = think.
Not think.

This is not a season to enter with a closed mind or a closed heart. For those who will lead congregations or bible studies or friends in the process of living another Advent, I throw out this challenge: Live it new. Live the story for the first time. Discover the staggering truths of this season just one more time

And let's drop the pretense that we can teach or lead in this mysterious territory. Seek to see the invisible. Try to believe the impossible. Pray that we can explain the unimaginable. And we will approach our task humbly, with wise-men hearts--knowing there is a king somewhere at the end of the journey, but not yet sure where to find him.