The Truth Is

3F006831-75A4-4D11-AABD-DDA91B9AF938The truth is I never expected to have an illness with the ominous descriptor β€œend stage.” I never saw it coming, but after a very brief, sudden and inexplicable illness, I was diagnosed in 2014 with end stage kidney disease. I was put on dialysis immediately and spent the rest of that year struggling and suffering.

The truth is I lost myself that year. For a time, I lost the ability to walk, think, name my colors, write my name. I lost my ministry and my ability to engage in the work I so loved. I ended up on seven and a half hours of dialysis daily.

The truth is that those many days, most of them spent in the hospital, may well have been sent to me as a call to awaken from my predictable existence. It was as if an inner, divine grace was demanding my spiritual growth. The truth is I was plunged deeply into a state of being filled with questions and voices I did not really want to hear. If all of this was a message from God, it was the message that all of my illusions, realities and identities were about to spill over the sides of my life, forcing me to stand still in the chaos.

The truth is that apart from this level of life upheaval, I would have lived on as usual, comfortable in the life I had built for myself. But in the middle of those long nights in the hospital, I asked God if this was a new summons to me, an urgent summons that called for my transformation.

I have trouble describing that time of my life. I have struggled for the words to express what was going on in me. Then I found a brilliant description written by one of my favorite authors. This is how she described a similar season in her life.

For months I had been lost in a baffling crisis of spirit . . . I had awakened to a growing darkness and cacophony, as if something in my depths were crying out. A whole chorus of voices. Orphaned voices. They seemed to speak for all the unlived parts of me, and they came with a force and dazzle that I couldn’t contain. They seemed to explode the boundaries of my existence. I know now that they were the clamor of a new self struggling to be born.

– From When the Heart Waits: Spiritual Direction for Life’s Sacred Questions by Sue Monk Kidd

Bingo! Whatever my year of illness was about, I knew it was about β€œthe clamor of a new self struggling to be born.” The truth is that is exactly what occurred in me. The new self was about to show itself. It was on the verge of emerging and morphing so that β€œwho I am” became someone I hardly recognized. My family commented often that I had become very quiet, that I seldom spoke (very unlike the person they knew).

The truth is I really was quiet, even silent at times. But I see now that it was all about this season in my life, my time to listen to God, to listen to my deepest self, to hear those β€œorphaned voices” that had been silent for a lifetime. Would this be a transformative experience for me?

The truth is I did not want to be so sick. I did not want to feel that bone-deep fatigue. I did not want to be tethered to a dialysis machine for so many hours every single day. I did not want to lose my ministry. I did not want to lose the self I was so comfortable with. I did not want to lose my gregarious personality, becoming quiet, introspective and silent. I did not want to live this season of life.

The truth is I did not want to build a cocoon around my life and wait, wait, and wait, and wait some more for my new life to emerge. And I did not want to give thanks to a God who employed such a severe means of transformation for me.

But the real truth is that I found this tiny scripture passage to be completely and mercifully true.

In everything give thanks; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.

– 1 Thessalonians 5:18 New American Standard Bible (NASB)

Thanks be to God. Amen.

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Silence and Solace

Enlight34

Sometimes all of us need a way to escape the ordinary day. Sometimes we need silence and solace. Sometimes we need the shimmering colors of a forest and the scents that waft through the trees. Sometimes we just need to leave behind all the concerns that hold us in bonds.

I imagine that my place of solace is in a forest. It’s only my imagination, mind you, because I never ever enter a forest. It’s a shame really, because I think I would be nurtured and comforted in a forest. I think I would find inner renewal and refreshment. I think that in a forest, I might very well hear God in the whispers of the branches.

Regrettably, I can only imagine. I will probably never make my way into a forest. Too many, bugs, poisonous plants, and creatures. Still I imagine spending some quiet time in a forest. I recently read a piece written by Ishmael Beah that said “The branches of the trees looked as if they were holding hands and bowing their heads in prayer.”

His words confirm that perhaps the forest is a place I really do need to visit, and maybe even to hold hands with the trees and bow my head in prayer. It would be a lovely escape, a life-giving escape. It would be a place that would call to me to forget the things that worry me and hold me fast.

Patricia Anne McKillip is a creative author of fantasy and science fiction novels. One of her novels, Winter Rose, expresses the way I feel about the notion of an escape into silence and solace. This is what she wrote:

I did not want to think about people. I wanted the trees, the scents and colors, the shifting shadows of the wood, which spoke a language I understood. I wished I could simply disappear in it, live like a bird or a fox through the winter, and leave the things I had glimpsed to resolve themselves without me.

I’m off to find a forest. Before spring breaks through, I just might find silence and solace in the whispering branches of the towering, bare trees. I might even hear God.

A Syllable of God

 

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I long for a space of deep listening, but in my humanity, I can’t get there. My mind is too busy with mundane things. I can’t seem to still my soul enough to truly hear God speaking to me. I could surmise that the reason I do not hear is because God is not speaking. I could settle for a silent God that is simply not communicating with me.

But my faith knows better than that. The years of my journey of faith have taught me that God is speaking far more than I am listening. It is my task to find a space of stillness, to put my heart into that good place of solitude and peace. It is my task to get to that place that allows me to hear God’s promptings.

Author and contemplative Macrina Wiederkehr describes this for me.

And don’t we all, with fierce hunger,
crave a cave of solitude,
a space of deep listening –
full of quiet darkness and stars,
until finally we hear a syllable of God
echoing in our hearts?

And so I continue, searching for that “space of deep listening full of quiet darkness and stars,” listening for that syllable of God.

Sitting in My Own Silence

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It’s a day with no words. I have contemplated hope, grace, kindness, worry, faith. And yet I have nothing to say. Perhaps my lesson is to listen, to sit in the middle of my own silence, to wait on words from God. And so today, I recommend to you a time of quiet meditation sitting in your own silence.

I think our deepest love finds its voice when we have run out of words to express it. There is no language that can capture what a lifetime has brought to be, the private journey of a single soul through the twists and turns of time. We are the sum of what we feel when feeling defies reason and runs to places no logic has ever seen. As careful as we are to wear our masks among the crowd, alone we know the untamed extravagance of a spirit that wants to care more than to control. So let us, each one, in silence share our truth, seeing in one another’s eyes the mirror of our own silent story. Β  – Steven Charleston

Words are not always needed. Apparently I need to rest in this present reality. Perhaps I need to refresh and refuel and allow something fresh and new to rise up in me. Until then I have no riveting subject to write about, no words to share. And that’s okay.

β€œIn Silence there is eloquence. Stop weaving and see how the pattern improves.”

― Rumi

More Beautiful than Silence

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Sunset in Alabama. Photo by Ken Lowery

Silence is beautiful in its stark simplicity. It can be more powerful than words. In my later years of life, I have learned to be quiet. My family is often baffled by my lack of words. But I have said plenty in this lifetime, some of which I’d like to take back. Maturity has brought me the wisdom of speaking only words that have a positive impact. I have discovered by experience that negative words hurt, both the speaker and those who hear.

The Bible instructs us on this subject in Luke 6:45. “The good person out of the good treasure of his heart produces good, and the evil person out of his evil treasure produces evil, for out of the abundance of the heart his mouth speaks.”

The instruction is a wise one. It reminds us that what is in the heart comes out in words. So the lesson really is to tend to your heart. Fill it with love and kindness and generosity. Then your mouth will speak only what is in the heart.

I am struck by this Arabic proverb: “Open your mouth only if what you are going to say is more beautiful than silence.” That is wise advice worthy to be heeded. If I speak, will my words share beauty with those who hear? Or is it better for me to be silent?