Contemplation

I can’t believe I’m blogging. I haven’t been a fan of the sport. In fact, I’ve enjoyed quoting Mark Twain who once described journalism as “literature in a hurry;” and then quickly adding my belief that “blogging is journalism in a jiffy.” But, as was the case with my take on email, texting, and on-line learning, I was wrong.

It actually can be very cool to have a reason to visit the Conversations web site on a daily basis, to “join a daily conversation,” reading and then responding. So, because this provides the chance to hear from you, and so many of our other fiends, I’m in.

The topic for our first month of blogging is the theme of our most recent issue, “Contemplation and Action.” With that anchor point, here we go.

With the incredible popularity of the book (and now the movie) Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert, many would-be prayer dropouts are seeking an experience of God. In their dialogue in the most recent issue of Conversations, Dr. David Benner and Dr. Gary Moon offer a conversation around Benner’s book “Opening to God” that would have saved Elizabeth Gilbert time, money and the flood of inoculations that are required for traveling to India and Indonesia.

Benner is transparent when he states, “My experience of that openness is far from constant… the moments when I have known this openness are rarer than I’d like, but they leave a taste I can never forget.”

Elizabeth Gilbert ate her way through Italy and ended up buying larger jeans to accommodate her ravenous appetite for all things Italian. In Benner’s dialogue on the impact of the feeling of alignment with God the wholeness and the sense of belonging he declares, “Like any taste of God, it leaves me hungering for more.” I read eagerly yet meditatively, being reminded of my own moments of sheer delight in God and God’s presence.

“Action without reflection is meaningless action.”  I wish I knew the source of this quote, shared with me years ago as “from the mystics of old” – because the truths encapsulated within these profound words are worth both our pondering and our application. Flip this statement upside down and the underside is also true: “Reflection without action is meaningless reflection.”

Reflection at its finest should manifest itself in action. Otherwise, it’s navel gazing and insular and left to linger unattended. Attending to the soul by way of contemplation is what leads thoughtful believers into intentional service to others. The Great Commandment—loving God with heart, soul, mind and strength—plus the Second Great Commandment—loving our neighbor as ourselves—is what leads us outward into the Great Commission—as we go, making disciples of all nations.

The Christian community at its healthiest incorporates a balanced approach to our spirituality. Love for God, love for others in the family of God, and love for our unreached neighbors. When we ponder the reality of each aspect of our faith, we are led into further reflection and ultimately into more meaningful action.

Where will your head and your heart lead your hands in service to another? Offer someone a cup of cold water in Jesus’ name today, it’s good for your soul.

For almost 20 years, I have corresponded with a prisoner who once found himself caught up in a road duel on the interstate near where I live. To end the altercation, my pen pal emptied his loaded revolver into the cab of a pickup truck, killing the driver.

My original intent in writing this prisoner was to try to understand road rage. You see, I find his split-second anger in myself, and although mine is less dramatic and has been tempered over the years, the impulse to immediate, defensive anger toward someone who cuts me off on the highway is always there.

I think that contemplation offers us a new, or deeper, way of seeing.  I was attracted to this kind of prayer, first, when I was working in the hectic environment of a major New York advertising agency.  It was rushed, competitive, time-driven.  I kept feeling the pressure and wanting some kind of refuge, a way to inner peace.  Prayer—especially contemplative prayer—seemed to offer that.

One of the things I noticed—once I began to pray—that I wasn’t just more attentive to God, but attentive to everything else.  I was able to notice things, even the simplest things, more readily.  I began to shed my sense of obligation, of being in charge of the universe, and began to let the universe—God’s universe—be in charge of me.