by Sara Wagner, CFDM Faculty

If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness. 1 John 1:9

I was asked if I could write a blog about awareness. It is rather humorous because I tend to be a fairly oblivious person most of the time as my spouse will attest. But tonight, there was awareness. Not the felt presence of God, but a real and growing awareness of His promise of purification to meet my growing awareness of how much I need that purification. I had a deepening of the understanding that to be the Beloved is to become aware and attuned to the promises of God… to realize they are not merely words on a page but cool, living water to a dry and thirsty soul. To be the Beloved is to be caught up in the promise… to be held by it and nurtured in it… allowed to soak in it… enabled to let it penetrate to a deeper place within. Becoming aware within one’s self of the promise, from my experience, takes time. I have noted that when I do seem to receive that deeper message… that deeper awareness of the message and what it promises, I look back and see that the message has been sent on many occasions, I just hadn’t been aware of it. I have also noticed that there tends to be a genuine physical sensation within me once I do become aware. Perhaps it is like a pregnant woman who suddenly starts to notice that the movement inside of her of the unborn baby (quickening) really is something moving in her that is other than herself. She didn’t “cause” it, it happened of its own accord. So it seems to be is the movement of the Spirit. I can not cause it, nor can I, in and of myself, become aware of it without the grace of God providing both the movement and the awareness of the movement of His Spirit.

(c) Mona Chicks 2015

It has been a rather hard season for me with lots of confusion and dryness and some very deep darkness. Tonight, however, God gave me the gift of this passage. He illuminated the phrase “… and purify us from ALL unrighteousness”. This promise seemed to first wash over me and then sink into the crevices of my soul…. Purify me from ALL unrighteousness?….. ALL unrighteousness!! This promise became alive within me…. ALL unrighteousness. This truth seemed to ebb and flow within me. It brought calm and hope…. ALL unrighteousness. How Blessed! I hope this blog will give you hope if you are also in a dry, dusty or dark season. Even if the promises of God seem far away right now, don’t lose hope…. all of a sudden a promise will sneak up on you and catch you by surprise like a rogue wave… for those promises are real and they are meant for you, the Beloved.

by Rev. Terry Tripp, Spiritual Direction Program Director

The summer heat has abated and the signs of Fall are coming in. It was an unprecedented summer. I wonder what this new season of change will be that is upon us. Each new season pretends a promise of movement in weather, in scenery, in rhythms, in hoped for change or in kept relationships. Yet, what God always promises in change is His faithfulness. But I have come to wonder about His faithfulness. Faithfulness to what?

More than anything it is a faithfulness to love. A love that we cannot make in our image. Only in the image of Christ are we introduced to true love. A love that bears pain, and therefore, a love that allows emptiness as a prerequisite to fullness. The Gospel of Matthew puts it this way;

That is why I am telling you not to worry about your life and what you are to eat, nor about your body and what you are to wear. Surely life is more than food, and the body more than clothing! Look at the birds in the sky. They do not sow or reap or gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not worth much more than they are?  Mt. 6:25-26

To receive God’s gift of love we need to make room for it. To not fill ourselves with empty cravings, but long for/desire God and trust that He will give us what we need when we need it.

In falling we can be caught; in being empty we can be filled. It is a vulnerable way of living. It is a faith-filled way of living. It is about letting go in order to find oneself being led, whether you know anything of it or not (as Thomas Merton contended). We at CFDM invite you again to a renewed desire for God’s way, God’s fulfillment, God’s ever present self-communicating intimacy. Know that you are loved beyond all that you can imagine and held when all seems to have fallen away.

Macrina Wiederfehr in her book, “Seasons of Your Heart” writes beautifully this act of surrender, of vulnerability, of welcoming a new season. Her poem: “The Sacrament of Letting Go”

Slowly
she celebrated the sacrament of letting go.
First she surrendered her green,
then the orange, yellow, and red
finally she let go of her brown.
Shedding her last leaf
she stood empty and silent, stripped bare.
Leaning against the winter sky
she began her vigil of trust.

And Jesus said:
Why do you worry about clothes? Remember the flowers growing in the fields; they do not fret about what to wear; yet I assure you not even Solomon in all his royal robes was dressed like one of these.

Shedding her last leaf
she watched its journey to the ground.
She stood in silence
wearing the color of emptiness,
her branches wondering;
How do you give shade with so much gone?

And Jesus said:
Do not be troubled or needlessly concerned.

And then,
the sacrament of waiting began.
The sunrise and the sunset watched with
tenderness.
Clothing her with silhouettes
they kept her hope alive.

They helped her understand that
her vulnerability,
her dependence and need,
her emptiness,
her readiness to receive,
were giving her a new kind of beauty.
Every morning and every evening they stood
in silence
and celebrated together
the sacrament of waiting.

And Jesus said:
Now if that is how God cares for the wild flowers in the fields which are here today and gone tomorrow, will He not all the more care for you…?

by David Hicks, Spiritual Formation Faculty

“Tremble, O earth, at the PRESENCE of the Lord,
at the PRESENCE of the God of Jacob,
who turned the rock into a pool,
the hard rock into springs of water.”
Psalm 114:7-8

God often does the unexpected not only because He can (that goes without saying) but also because it usually throws us off just enough to where we actually notice He is doing something. I’m convinced that He uses the common and the likely but these are also the very places where we often miss seeing the moving of His grace. It is precisely because they are likely that we sometimes see grace as common, natural, coincidental, rather than a divine break-in from a Heavenly Intruder. To shake us out of our blind indifference sometimes God comes in unlikely places of grace.

Psalm 114 refers back to the Exodus 17 story of Moses striking the rock at Horeb which then produces water to satisfy the thirst of the Israelites. This ‘striking incident’ was preceded by the Israelites complaining to Moses about their condition and wondering if God was really with them or not. God meets their need, but in an unlikely way. The most likely solution to the Israelites problem (thirst) would have been for God to lead them to a river or stream or spring where they could drink. Those would be likely places, normal places, to get water. But God chooses an unlikely place, perhaps the most unlikely place of all, to satisfy their thirst – a rock. A rock is not something that I would have thought of. Of all the places I can think of to satisfy thirst I would have never come up with a rock. Rocks are, to say the least, unlikely places to find water.

Put this in a long list of Biblical examples of God’s grace coming from unlikely places: an ark is built far from the nearest body of water; a donkey speaks a word from God; a teenage boy kills a giant and then rules a nation; a man of God is told to marry a prostitute as a living example of God’s love; a fish becomes the vehicle to deliver a prophet; water gets turned into wine; a boy’s lunch feeds 5,000; and the most unlikely place of all for God’s grace to be found is when the finality of a cross and a tomb become the birthplace of eternal life.

Though not nearly on as grand a scale as these I can come up with my own list of unlikely places of grace. Just like the Israelites thirst, I too at times have felt a desperate need. And just like the Israelites complaint, I have sometimes said (or at least thought), “God, are you with me or not?” I have looked for answers and solutions to my deep needs in all of the most likely places. But more times than not it has been in unlikely places where God has met these needs.  In fact sometimes these unlikely places have at first appeared as hard, immovable obstacles (like rocks). I perceive them as things that are actually standing in the way of what I most need, or at least think I need. There are all kinds of apparent obstacles in our lives that God may want to turn into an unlikely spring of grace to refresh us and to bless those around us.

How does this all happen? Psalm 114 above gives us the answer twice. The “Presence” of the Lord. I capitalize the word Presence because here it almost sounds like person’s name. “Presence” is a person. God’s presence transforms the unlikely broken, hard places of our lives into springs of grace and mercy. And this really is what our heart most thirsts for: the Presence of God, filling the most unlikely places with His grace.

By Shelly Morse, CFDM Alum and Board Member

Be Compassionate just as your Father is compassionate. Luke 6:36

(c) Mona Chicks

The life of the beloved is one of compassion. There is so much grief, poverty, and loss in this life, but we can offer another the great gift of not having to walk alone in their need. That is the gift of compassion. We have been well equipped for this because we have been loved well by God.

Compassion takes on many different forms, but caring seems to me to be one of the most basic human responses to a God that loves me, and for another made in that same God’s image. I care when I am present to the one who suffers, and when I stay present, even though I cannot change their circumstances. Often we are not able to fix the problem for another but we are always able to care.

I have found great joy in walking alongside those in need. It is true that I have received more than I have given. I am deeply grateful that God has designed this life in such a way that I get the opportunity to be Christ’s ambassador on this earth. Deep joy is the secret gift of compassion! It’s no wonder that God calls us to love our neighbor.

Caring is born out of relationship. The core meaning of care is to “be with” a person who is suffering or needy. To care means therefore to hear another’s cry. Who do you hear crying? Is there someone God has put near you that needs your presence in their painful circumstance? I challenge you to connect with another’s need and care.

How do you and I live what God asks in passages such as Micah 6:8? “He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the LORD require of you? To act justly and love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.” How do we live a merciful, just and humble life towards the powerless and broken? I believe God has made it possible through his great love for us. Because we have been loved well and because He is such a deep well for us to draw from, we can be present with, listen to, and embrace another in their need.

Caring is all about being present to one who is powerless, accepting that we may not be able to take their pain away, but we can surely be willing to share it.

by Rev. Mona Chicks, CFDM alum and Board Member

(c) Mona Chicks all rights reserved.

During Lent, I found myself unintentionally meditating on the post-resurrection appearances of Jesus. One in particular was rehearsed in a few contexts and situations, and led me to wonder what God was trying to tell me. I finally clued in that maybe I should intentionally meditate on this story. It was the story of the road to Emmaus, from Luke 24.13ff.

I can identify with Cleopas, one of the disciples on the road to Emmaus who journeyed with a stranger, only to find it was the risen Jesus. Cleopas is one of the first evangelists, though he didn’t yet know the end of the story. He walked and talked with this stranger, telling him all that had happened to Jesus. He spoke of his hopes and dreams about this man he had followed, dreams that had been dashed when the hope for insurrection turned to non-violent arrest, trial, and execution. He spoke of bewilderment, when the body of this man was missing from the tomb. He listened, as the stranger explained it all to him. But he did not yet know. He did not yet recognize the risen Jesus.

You would expect that Cleopas and the other disciple would recognize Jesus as soon as he began teaching. They had heard him teach frequently. But they didn’t. You would think that, having spent three years or so with this man, they would recognize his face, his form, his mannerisms. But they didn’t.

They didn’t recognize him until they ate with him. Perhaps they needed the journey to prepare them for the shock of seeing him resurrected. Maybe Jesus waited to reveal himself until they had shown hospitality and friendship to the stranger. How like Jesus to reveal himself in an unconventional, unexpected way. He’s spent his ministry doing the unexpected.

But it makes me wonder, in what ways am I missing what Jesus is doing because I’m looking for something else? How could I be losing out on a walk with my Savior, because it isn’t what I expected? As I spend time with Him each day, I ask for my eyes to be opened, so I can see Jesus as he is revealing himself in everything I experience that day. The disciples’ “hearts burned within them,” and that gives me hope for myself, that as I pay attention to the people and circumstances around me, I will come to recognize Jesus, even in unexpected places.

Amen, may it be so.