Day 2: Listening to our knowing heart
For the last couple of days, I’ve been spending a lot of time in my head. My mind has been over active, over analyzing things that I’m involved with in my work. I haven’t been able to settle my mind down. It’s exhausting.
Tilden Edwards from the Shalem Institute says that we can live out of our ego, our analytical mind or our knowing heart. I have been functioning from my analytical mind, for sure. All three are ways we think and the place from which we live our life. The ego drives us. The analytical mind sifts through life as we go. But the knowing heart leads us wisely.
This morning, aware of the voices in my head, I spent some time in centering prayer. Once my mind was calm, I listened to my heart. Once I did, I knew how to live.
If you feel like you are on an unrelenting mental treadmill, consider trying this:
• Take several cleansing breaths.
• Begin to focus your mind on seeking God in prayer.
• Any time a distracting thought enters your mind, sweep it away.
• Then return your attention to God and enjoy him.
• Finally, once your mind is calm, listen to what your heart is saying.
• Write down anything that comes to mind.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Monday, March 1, 2010
30 Days of Hearing
Day 1: Footsteps
This morning, as I sat in bed, sipping my morning coffee and “coming to,” I reminded myself that today was the beginning of 30 Days of Hearing. About that moment, I “heard” footsteps. David was walking from the kitchen toward the stairs to bring me a refill of coffee (yes, I am totally spoiled—I admit it!) and I heard his familiar slippered steps padding up the stairs. I felt grateful as I heard him come.
Footsteps—sometimes barely perceptible, at other times sharp and distinctive—stir a host of feelings from joy and anticipation to fear and dread. I recall hearing the footsteps of a toddler approaching the side of my bed to crawl in; or the footsteps of my grown daughter, clopping around in her high-heels; or the footsteps of a stranger walking behind me in a parking lot. Each evoked strong feelings just from hearing the sound.
The way we feel when we hear the sound of someone’s steps has to do with whether we know them and what we think they are coming for. Adam and Eve heard God’s footsteps in the garden and were filled with dread and fear. “Then the Lord God called to the man, “Where are you?” He replied, “I heard you walking in the garden, so I hid. I was afraid because I was naked.” (Genesis 3:10)
Here is a question for spiritual direction: If you heard God’s footsteps coming toward you, how would you feel? Why? What does that tell you about your relationship with God?
This morning, as I sat in bed, sipping my morning coffee and “coming to,” I reminded myself that today was the beginning of 30 Days of Hearing. About that moment, I “heard” footsteps. David was walking from the kitchen toward the stairs to bring me a refill of coffee (yes, I am totally spoiled—I admit it!) and I heard his familiar slippered steps padding up the stairs. I felt grateful as I heard him come.
Footsteps—sometimes barely perceptible, at other times sharp and distinctive—stir a host of feelings from joy and anticipation to fear and dread. I recall hearing the footsteps of a toddler approaching the side of my bed to crawl in; or the footsteps of my grown daughter, clopping around in her high-heels; or the footsteps of a stranger walking behind me in a parking lot. Each evoked strong feelings just from hearing the sound.
The way we feel when we hear the sound of someone’s steps has to do with whether we know them and what we think they are coming for. Adam and Eve heard God’s footsteps in the garden and were filled with dread and fear. “Then the Lord God called to the man, “Where are you?” He replied, “I heard you walking in the garden, so I hid. I was afraid because I was naked.” (Genesis 3:10)
Here is a question for spiritual direction: If you heard God’s footsteps coming toward you, how would you feel? Why? What does that tell you about your relationship with God?
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Exciting news about The Art of Faith/Awakening Your Senses!
I'm writing to share some very exciting news and an invitation! First of all, I am delighted to share with you my wonderful news! I just received a contract with InterVarsity Press to publish The Art of Faith/Awakening Your Senses with co-author, Brent Bill. I am thrilled to work with such an exceptional company--one who publishes many of my favorite authors! The title of this book has not been settled but the contents will come from The Art of Faith workshop and the 30 Days experiments that Brent and I have been blogging about for the last several months. This book should be released sometime in 2011.
Second, mark your calendars for another 30 Days experiment beginning Monday, March 1st! This time, we will focus on the sense of hearing. As I've encouraged you before:
- Put a note in your calendar each day for 30 days that reminds you to pay attention to what you hear.
- Every day, isolate your sense of hearing and see how God speaks to you through the sounds of life bubbling up around you.
- Keep a journal about what you discover.
- Follow my blog and comment or write about your own adventures.
- Join The Art of Faith on Facebook and share your experiences with other sensory pilgrims.
If you or someone you know would be interested in hosting The Art of Faith: Awakening Your Senses to the Wonder of God, please let me know. Brent and I would love to share this unique, engaging workshop that helps more of you experience more of God.
Warmly, Beth
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
30 Days of Touching
Day 29: Wind
A second snow storm hit today leaving it it's wake several more inches of frosty tundra. Now the winds are picking up. I can hear them howling outside my window. Winds may gust to 30 + mph. The house feels drafty from the temperature drop and blustery conditions. I don't mind snow and cold, except when it's windy.
Strong winds send a chill straight through me. Though invisible, a wind can feel as sharp as a slap across the face--and take your breath away, just the same. And speaking of touch, I can't touch the wind, but the wind touches me. With a mind of it's own, it can spin me around and send me in a direction I hadn't intended to go.
Jesus told Nicodemus that the Spirit moves like the wind--coming out of nowhere and returning from whence it came. In the wake of it's movement, dramatic things happen. People wake up to life, living breath breathed right into them. The Spirit turns them around--turns them toward Jesus. They take stock of their new orientation and gawk with wonder at how they ended up where they are.
So, the next time you are greeted with a stiff wind in your face, check in with it. It just might be the Spirit, ready to turn you around.
A second snow storm hit today leaving it it's wake several more inches of frosty tundra. Now the winds are picking up. I can hear them howling outside my window. Winds may gust to 30 + mph. The house feels drafty from the temperature drop and blustery conditions. I don't mind snow and cold, except when it's windy.
Strong winds send a chill straight through me. Though invisible, a wind can feel as sharp as a slap across the face--and take your breath away, just the same. And speaking of touch, I can't touch the wind, but the wind touches me. With a mind of it's own, it can spin me around and send me in a direction I hadn't intended to go.
Jesus told Nicodemus that the Spirit moves like the wind--coming out of nowhere and returning from whence it came. In the wake of it's movement, dramatic things happen. People wake up to life, living breath breathed right into them. The Spirit turns them around--turns them toward Jesus. They take stock of their new orientation and gawk with wonder at how they ended up where they are.
So, the next time you are greeted with a stiff wind in your face, check in with it. It just might be the Spirit, ready to turn you around.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
30 Days of Touching
Day 28: Scrabble
Last night, David and I played a game of Scrabble. By the way, did I mention that I won? Yeh. It was a good night to stay home. We had about eight inches of fresh snow, so I made stew and beer bread and we decided to play a game. In principle, I love Scrabble because I love words. So, it sounded good. But about mid-way through I began to tire of it. It does drag on.
I have funny associations with Scrabble. I picture my dad neatly straightening the rows of tiles, his hands steady as an ox. I remember the time I spelled the word “sex” and got 78 points. The next day I proudly announced to one of my kid's and her friend, while playing another game of Scrabble with them, that I had “sex” yesterday—on the Scrabble board!*#....
As I think about playing this game, I realize it's a very tactile experience. I reached into the bag for the tiles, groped to find them and pull them out. I placed them on the trivet and rearranged them. I set them on the board and lined them up. Scrabble is a game of touching.
Playing Scrabble also mimics life. We reach into the bag of life and pull things out without knowing what we have at first. We learn to work with the “tiles” we’ve been given. Sometimes we can’t find a way to play. Sometimes the small plays add up most. Often, learning patience is the key—holding onto tiles until we have the best move. (Last night it was “quell” for 44 points!) Not taking the game too seriously.
Who would have thought Scrabble to be such a pointed metaphor of life! I am glad I played. And by the way, did I mention that I won?
Last night, David and I played a game of Scrabble. By the way, did I mention that I won? Yeh. It was a good night to stay home. We had about eight inches of fresh snow, so I made stew and beer bread and we decided to play a game. In principle, I love Scrabble because I love words. So, it sounded good. But about mid-way through I began to tire of it. It does drag on.
I have funny associations with Scrabble. I picture my dad neatly straightening the rows of tiles, his hands steady as an ox. I remember the time I spelled the word “sex” and got 78 points. The next day I proudly announced to one of my kid's and her friend, while playing another game of Scrabble with them, that I had “sex” yesterday—on the Scrabble board!*#....
As I think about playing this game, I realize it's a very tactile experience. I reached into the bag for the tiles, groped to find them and pull them out. I placed them on the trivet and rearranged them. I set them on the board and lined them up. Scrabble is a game of touching.
Playing Scrabble also mimics life. We reach into the bag of life and pull things out without knowing what we have at first. We learn to work with the “tiles” we’ve been given. Sometimes we can’t find a way to play. Sometimes the small plays add up most. Often, learning patience is the key—holding onto tiles until we have the best move. (Last night it was “quell” for 44 points!) Not taking the game too seriously.
Who would have thought Scrabble to be such a pointed metaphor of life! I am glad I played. And by the way, did I mention that I won?
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