An Innocent escape from being here right now

Chapter 3  Here: Starting Right Now

Here am I, send me.  Here am I, send me.  Lord I can see people, people who need comfort.  Here am I, Lord.  Won't you send me?

I don't want to sound full of myself, but I do not usually find it difficult to be here/present in the moment. 

Although I must admit that my understanding of presence is heavily influenced by two things: 1.  What I need to be able to do to be fully present and 2. discussions of feminist theory and technology.  Let me start with the second influence.  I do believe that most women constantly multitask (better than most men).  I find that I quite enjoy multitasking.  This means that sometimes being fully present may mean that I have my mind on multiple things that are occurring in one space.  My thoughts on technology include a belief that while technology can serve as a distraction, it can also be used to say "I am present".  Take the four-square application for smart phones.  What better way is there to say "I am here" than to check in and let people know that?  I actually feel a small amount of disappointment when I forget to check in somewhere.  Technology (aka my iPhone) can also serve as the conduit for connection that could be the grounding a person needs to be complete  (ie. and I know this sounds like a justification but sometimes it's better to be able to check in on the score of the Colts game than to have to be distracted by knowing the game is on and constantly wondering what the score is.  Yes, technically that game is being played elsewhere - but the point is I am "here" and knowing the score will help keep me so). 

I say all this to admit that my notion of being present may not be what other people call to mind when the topic of being here/being present is discussed.  When the idea of being fully present was discussed in my counseling courses, for instance, I found that being "fully present" was often synonymous with "holding lengthy concentration".  I was learning therapy techniques, so "being here" meant answering the question: How could I make sure that the client felt that I was present for them in the therapy room?  The answers discussed different notions on how we could create a safe space for the client.  One answer we discussed at length was about becoming an "empty vessel" that the client could unload their baggage into.  One answer that was rarely (never?) discussed was the idea of just being wholly ourselves in the therapy room.  Having the strength of conviction to say by our presence in the therapy room: "here I am, I'm by no means perfect, but I believe I have something to offer you which, should you choose to grab it and take it away from this meeting, might enhance your quality of life".  Telling your own story was something you could do but it was always supposed to be a controlled revelation to the client.  Something about all that control didn't sit well with me.  (And if you know me - you know I will openly admit to having control issues - so it's a big thing for me to say that something sounds too controlled.)

So what does it mean to say "Here am I"? 

"Here" is the first word that Brian D. McLaren talks about in his book "Naked Spirituality: A life with God in 12 simple words".  His rational for doing so is fantastic.  He had originally thought about starting with the word "God" but realized that even the name "God" is merely a symbolic representation.  He discusses a poem by C.S. Lewis titled "Footnote to All Prayers", where C.S. Lewis recognizes that the name "God" is a symbol for God.  By praying to that symbol "we may falsely assume that our idea of God is identical to God, that the real God 'out there' is no bigger than and no different from the idea that we have 'in here' in our heads"(33) .  By focusing on the word "here", McLaren hopes to help us live a life that is ever growing in our understanding of God right here and our relationship to God right here.  The end of the poem refers to the idea that " if we aim our arrow-prayers towards the bull's-eyes of our conceptual target -- at our limited ideas of God instead of beyond and above our ideas - our prayers will simply arc back down into the dirt.  Our only hope is that God finds our arrows [prayers] mid-flight and magnetically draws them to their intended destination"(33). 

I love this image of arrows because there is a notion of time implicit in the analogy.  Even if it takes mere seconds to hit a target, there is a gap between when an arrow is released and when it strikes.  The "here" of the moment I said the prayer and the "here" of the moment God responds to that prayer are different.  Therefore, prayers are very future driven.  And I love love love discussions of the future.  I thrive on asking myself the question: How can I make the person I am better tomorrow than I am today?  I'm very optimistic that the future will be better - though, honestly, I sometimes wonder how (if we keep destroying the earth, will there even be future life on earth?  But I digress).  The power of prayer is amazing!  This being said, one thing that a very smart woman once told me (though I questioned the wisdom at the time) is that a constant focus on the future can be a form of avoidance for the "here and now".  I'm still not entirely sold on this notion, but I do appreciate the idea that I could be using the idea of "better future Megan" as a way to not have to live with the reality of "less-better current Megan".  I still make the argument that the only way to actually better one's self is to acknowledge flaws and work towards a better vision - and that better vision can only be created in the present.  That being said, the focus on the future as the lens through which to view my current state could be a way to avoid really looking at who I am "here".  And, since I don't want to live in avoidance, I plan (see that future word) to take some time this week (yes, I also mean right "here" and now) to remove the "future" lens and just be "here" with God.

Being here with God is the only way I can sing this song:

Here am I, send me.  Here and I, send me.  Lord, I can see people.  People who need comfort.  Here am I, Lord.  Won't you send me.

Naked Spirituality: Part 1 of quite a few

I'm sure there's an irony in the fact that I said I was going to do a lenten practice and did so for a whole two days.  Hopefully anyone reading this has found my word to be better than that, at least on average.

Jeremy and I have started attending regularly Mission Gathering church (missiongathering.com).   The church is reading a book titled "Naked Spirituality: A Life With God in 12 Simple Words" by Brian D. McLaren.  Jeremy and I bought the book and I started reading it ... about 10 minutes ago.  Something about the idea of doing something regularly brought me back around to this blog.  Therefore, here I am.  Here's to seeing if this time the practice will last longer than 2 days!

Before we get started in the book, I have to admit that I have my misgivings.  I don't want to sound too full of myself, especially because if it weren't for my husband pointing this out, I wouldn't have noticed it, but I am already fairly ritualized and (dare I say) open with God.  I journal daily(ish).  I read the Bible daily(ish).  I pray daily(ish). I meditate/run daily(ish).  While every moment of my journaling or meditation/running is not necessarily focused on God, the fact that I do these things is a testament to my relationship with God.   I do them because I know I am more open with God, myself, and others when I do them.  To put it more selfishly, I do them because I have learned that I feel better when I do them consistently.  Let us not forget, though, that I resonate with John Wesley and his desire to always be striving for perfection.  Therefore, I sometimes don't realize when I am doing something right until someone else points it out to me.  This is because I am always focusing on where I can do better (read: I can always see where I have fallen short of my original goal).   Back to the misgivings though ... and let me be specific here:  My misgivings come from the fear that this book is going to suggest I do things that I've already tried (read failed) or am already doing (read: not quite doing daily).  I don't want to be bored.  I want books of this nature to be like sermons - I'm looking for a mixture of agreement and pushing my boundaries.  I don't want to be made to feel guilty.  I already know actual daily practice will probably make me feel even better.

The first three chapters have exceeded my expectations.  I've laughed, already cried a little (which, as many of you know is probably to be expected), and I've embraced many of his thoughts.  Here are a few quotes that caught my attention:   

"In the Sermon on the Mount, where Jesus talks about turning the other cheek and walking the second mile, he says that if someone takes you to court, suing you for your overcoat, you might as well give them your other clothes too (Matt.  5:38-41), implying, (I think) that in so doing your self-exposure will serve to expose the heartless greed of your opponent" (vi).

"So you might say that good religion is about connecting us together again" (14).  

"Together, we and God are like an elderly couple, bound together through a lifetime of joy and heartache, holding hands with one we love and with whom we have shared everything.  ... So little needs to be said as we sit together looking at the sea, watching the waves roll in.  We start with one kind of simplicity, and we'll someday arrive at a second simplicity that has much in common with the first, but has been deepened, broadened, and strengthened through all we've experienced and endured in between" (28).

I'm not going to elaborate on the quotes, except to say that the last one is a beautiful reminder to me that each little act may not bring about that feeling of knowing that I am connected with God but that when I do get the feeling it will be, in part, because of the small actions I am taking now.  My faith has not been one of being able to say, "that was my moment of rebirth".  My faith is one of being able to say, "I can't remember a time when I did not know God".  Neither of these quotes is better to be able to say than the other.  Each comes with it's own set of worries and fears.  One could say that once you have met God, the rest of life is about maintaining that relationship.