Si je devrais prendre ma retraite…
When I get old, I’m going to retire with Mardi to the Lauterbrunnen Valley near Interlaken, in Switzerland. We will spend most of our time sitting on this bench, enjoying the view of the mountains below. Every so often, just to mix things up, I will bring a book to read.
Reading with the heart
“The law of the Lord is perfect, reviving the soul.”
-Psalm 19:7
What is your relationship with the Bible? I sometimes find myself reading scripture like a textbook or a technical manual. Without meaning to, I can approach it in my prayer times the same way I would the instruction manual for my car. Even though I know in my head that the Bible is much more than a how-to manual, I sometimes can’t help myself—I have the habit of, and the training to read it so I can ‘get something out of it.’
Study is an important spiritual discipline; especially study of the scriptures. We must study the interaction of God with His people, and focus our minds on what He has done throughout history. This is important—the mind will order and conform itself according to what it focuses on. This is an essential part of ‘training ourselves in Godliness’ (1 Tim. 4:7).
But it’s only a part of the training.
Long ago, Jewish rabbis would sometimes take honey and place in on the fingers of their students and have them taste them, to remind them that God’s words are like honey on the lips (Ps 19:10).
God’s words. Sweeter than honey. Reviving the soul. Rejoicing the heart. Enlightening the eyes.
Can you say this about scripture?
Another way to approach the Bible is to read it from the heart. Here, we are not studying it for its meaning, or reading it in context to derive what the original author intended his audience to hear; we are deliberately slowing down, breathing deeply, and reading from the heart. With humility we recognize that we are more than our minds; that the ‘inward renewal’ (2 Cor 4:16) taking place involves renewal of our minds, emotions, and spirit.
This type of reading is known as lectio divina, or ‘divine reading’—Benedict of Nursia, founder of the monastic order that would become known as the Order of St. Benedict, coined the term in the 5th century. Lectio involves an attempt to read with the heart more than the head, not attempting to ‘master’ a portion of scripture, or ‘cover’ a certain amount of material, but allowing the Lord to capture your attention with a particular word or phrase. Contemporary poet and theologian Kathleen Norris describes it as
“A slow, meditative reading, primarily of the scriptures, lectio respects the power of words to resonate with the full range of human experience…words that are awake during our rest and our silences, active in our reflection…powerful biblical images, stories and poems are allowed to flow freely, to wash over you.[i]”
To practice this method of reading the Bible, you might choose a passage like Ps. 33:6-7. “By the word of the Lord the heavens were made…” Spend some time in silence before reading, putting aside the cares of the day as they come to mind. Thank God for his goodness and grace. You then slowly read, and re-read the passage, meditating on every word. As you read you listen, humbly and quietly. You might be drawn to reflect on the breadth of God’s awesome power, leading you to rejoice as you are overwhelmed by his concern for the smallest and weakest of his created beings. As you rejoice, you experience waves of humility and gratitude that you are a part of God’s creative plan, and get to participate in his created world.
Finally, lectio leads to action. Here’s where the training bit comes in—the practice of reading from the heart helps you to create a space in which you are able to hear God to speak to you personally, now. For example, your wonder at being a part of his creation might lead to a sense of responsibility and accountability for your actions today, leading you to resolve to be attentive at work today to the Lord’s prompting, and to serve one of your co-workers as he leads.
Pick a verse or two this week, and spend some time reading it from the heart. Do not be discouraged if you find it difficult to focus on a verse, or if you find yourself analyzing it at every turn—meditative reading, like prayer (and also like study), comes with time and practice. Rejoice in the fact that the Lord desires to renew your whole person into Christlikeness, and has given you a number of disciplines with which to place yourself before him so that you might begin to be changed by his grace.
For further study/meditation: Some good starting points for meditative reading: Is 55:2, 10-13, Matt 11:28-29, Ps 37:4, Is 58, Ps 37:7, Ps 32:8, Ps 33:11.
Resource/Book of the Week:Dakota: A Spiritual Geography, by Kathleen Norris. From the back cover:
“A book of stories, a book of prayer, a book to be read meditatively and well, Dakota offers a timeless tribute to a place in the American landscape that is at once desolate and sublime, harsh and forgiving, steeped in history and myth. From the award-winning author of Amazing Grace, Dakota is Kathleen Norris at her most thoughtful, her most discerning, her best. She gives us, once again, a rare “gift of hope and balance, a place to begin,” and assurance that wherever we go, we chart our own spiritual geography.”
[i]The Cloister Walk, but Kathleen Norris.
The discipline of secrecy
Keep the Same Pace
“Jesus left and went to the region near the city of Tyre, where he stayed in someone’s home. He did not want people to know he was there, but they found out anyway.”
-Mark 7:24
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I went for a run this weekend at dusk. It was a beautiful night—slightly overcast with the chill of an approaching winter keeping me cool as I ran. My jog took me through the nearby parklands, crunching through leaves and twigs with no one around to hear. As I turned onto the home stretch, a main road lined with cafes and residents out for an evening stroll, I noticed my pace quickening and my stride lengthening. I was holding my head up a bit higher, and squaring my shoulders a little more. I smiled as I realized why I was speeding up. The thought stayed with me that night after the run—when I moved from the solitude of the parklands to a public place, I sped up. I ran faster because people were watching.
Few things in our spiritual life are more important to recognize and to tame than our deeply rooted desire to have people think well of us.
When we perform acts of service, complete a fast of some kind, or have a particularly intimate time of prayer, one of our first inclinations is to discuss it with someone. We may not consciously seek attention, but we get it.
Recognition of our desire to have the good opinion of others is the first step in learning not to run faster when people are watching. When we intentionally choose to serve someone in need or practice a spiritual discipline without publicizing it, we take the second step—we begin to experience a relationship with God independent of the opinions of others. This is the only way to master our subconscious desire for fame and attention: Deliberately abstaining from talking about our good works and habits. We might even go so far as to take steps to keep them hidden, so long as we’re not actively deceiving anyone in the process.
The gospels are full of accounts of Jesus and his followers seeking to avoid crowds (Mk 1:35), keeping a man’s healing secret (Mk 1:44), Jesus commanding his disciples to pray ‘in a room with the door closed’ (Mt 6:6), to fast without drawing attention to themselves, (Mt 6:18), and to give secretly (Mt 6:4). Keeping some aspects of our life-with-God out of the public eye helps us to learn humility, and genuine, unselfish love for others as we give without expecting recognition. It also teaches us about faith—as we learn to receive recognition and approval from God alone, we begin to trust him quietly for our needs, rather than telling others about them.
The rabbi who tried very hard to avoid crowds; the healer who commanded a man healed of leprosy to keep quiet about it calls us to a life free of the driving need to have people think well of us. Jesus beckons us to a quiet life free of self-promotion, where our need for praise is met by Him alone. When we practice good works in secret, choosing not to advertise them, we learn to run at the same pace in our spiritual lives, no matter who is watching.
Practice the discipline of secrecy this week as you through your daily routine. You might serve someone in need, and discuss it with no one. Alternatively, choose to fast from solid food for a day and don’t call attention to yourself. Gratefully thank the Lord for the opportunity to serve without needing recognition, and allow Him to fill you with the joy of a life filled with humility and love.
For further study/meditation: Phil 2:3
Resource/Book of the Week: The Long Loneliness, by Dorothy Day. Dorothy cofounded the Catholic Worker movement in New York City in 1933, offering hospitality and outreach to the poor in NYC. It eventually spread throughout the United States. This is her autobiography.
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