Fight for Joy!

Photo by Zachary Nelson on Unsplash

A couple months ago, I felt led to do something new: I applied for a spiritual director.

For me, that was a risky move. Risky because I’m an introvert and inherently skeptical. Even so, it was clear that I should lay aside my hesitation and pray for courage to obey the Spirit-promptings.

This week I met with my spiritual director for the second time. So far, so good! A question he’s been asking me during our sessions is: What are you hearing, feeling, or experiencing in this moment? Sometimes the question is more direct: What are you hearing from God?

Excellent questions.

In our present “stay home, stay safe” moment of sacrifice to care for each other, I’m feeling and experiencing many things. Restrictions, prohibitions, and isolation can be difficult. I want to do what I want to do. I want to eat out, have people over, and worship in my church building. Grocery shopping is stressful (more than usual), Zoom meetings are awkward, and I’m not a fan of jigsaw puzzles.

When things don’t go my way, I get edgy. And my edginess breeds a need to control through task and accomplishment. I respond with instructions to my family for house cleaning, lawn raking, and other things I deem “productive.” My unilateral edicts are often rationalized with a “dad speech” about responsibility and character development. But what’s really going on is that I feel anxiety over my helplessness.

I don’t like being unable to affect my circumstance. But this thought from Thomas Merton has been helpful: “We can be glad of our helplessness when we really believe that His [God’s] power is made perfect in our infirmity. The surest sign that we have received a spiritual understanding of God’s love for us is the appreciation of our own poverty in the light of His infinite mercy.” (Thoughts in Solitude, p.26)

This weekend we reflect again on the life and passion of Jesus Christ. As I consider who He is and what He’s done, the helplessness I feel in the midst of a worldwide crisis highlights that I’m a dependent and needy person. There’s no place for rugged individualism. And any response that sprouts from seeds of discontent regarding my “rights” only deadens my ability to exhibit the qualities of a Christ-follower. So I’m returning often to that question from my spiritual director: What am I hearing from God in these moments?

What I’ve heard this week is: “Fight for joy!”

Reclaim a perspective that is hope-filled and not usurped by headlines, op-eds, and social media cynicism. Acknowledge the legitimacy of anxieties and disappointments while remembering to “fret not” (Psalm 37). To lament, grieve, and pray. To embrace our salvation that was claimed on a cross and secured through resurrection.

So, what are you feeling, thinking, or experiencing right now? What do you hear God saying to you? And what do those things indicate about your understanding of God’s love, mercy, and expectations for you in this moment?

This Easter weekend, and in the days ahead, I’m keeping close these words from the prophet Isaiah: “You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you. Trust in the Lord forever, for the Lord God is an everlasting rock.” (Isaiah 26:3–4) Perfect peace. We all need some of that.

Our Cry

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Photo by Road Trip with Raj on Unsplash

Our Cry
A reflection on Palm Sunday

Rebellion
in the Garden
was our cardinal sorrow;
lament ever since
has looped on repeat.

East of Eden,
baleful seductions
divert our longings
toward culverts
rife with deceit.

We cannot make
our way back.

This day
our “Hosanna!”
erupts
from the ache
of pandemic.

Yet,
our true
and befitting
cry
remains—

“Blessed is He!”
 

Copyright © 2020 Chris De Man. All rights reserved.

Opening Voids

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Photo by Matthew Henry on Unsplash

Some quickly said, “I’m in!” Others needed time to ponder the consequences. And there was one who said, “I won’t do that, but I will do something.”

My family’s pre-Lenten agreements about eliminating, minimizing, or committing to a daily practice for six weeks was a profitable dialogue. We are different people with affections and desires that run the spectrum.

In our abstinence and sacrifice during this season of Lent we open voids in our living. Spaces occupied not only by want, but invitation to something new. It could be a fresh gift of grace that leads to deeper repentance. Or courage to re-engage a strained relationship. Maybe it’s just a fuller sense of joy and contentment. The literal and figurative fasting of Lent is a gateway to spiritual transformation.

As we anticipate the celebration of the Resurrection in a few weeks, let’s continue to contemplate the path of Mary’s child — from swaddled baby to bludgeoned outcast. The God-Man rescuer of humanity from itself. A friend to sinners and hope for the world. A Savior worthy of more than we can give (or give-up).

In our temporary Lenten sacrifices may our spirits connect with our Lord’s sacrifice of Himself for our eternal good. A Redeemer who didn’t cling to comfort or power but came lowly to serve. And when tempted to renege on our 40-day commitments, may these words come to mind:

“Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.”