Invitation

Lately I've been drawn to poetry. It's this way of communicating something deeper, something happening under the surface, under my skin. It's not analytical or argumentative. It's an experience and often quite personal. My spiritual mentor told me once that I could try writing poetry as a way to release control in my life. Journaling had begun to feel like work, like writing complete sentences was too much for me. Sometimes just words, on their own, are written down and maybe they can go together. 

Anyway, I've been trying this lately and it's really helped me process things and know what I think. I also think it's pretty cool that over a third of the Bible is written in poetic form. Maybe God wasn't trying to argue His way into our lives. Maybe He was just trying to say that He loves us.

So when I was asked to describe how my understanding of the Christian life has transformed in me over time, I wrote this in my journal:

My understanding of the spiritual life has moved from one of seeking instant transformative moments out of guilt and desperation to one of yielding.

A falling, leaning into, awakening to God's way. 

An ancient current. A path.

Ever present; looking for signs of life. Stones and pillars of remembrance from past witnesses leading me forward.

Here is my poem of remembrance: 

 

Here I am again, a little bit different

in this same place.

I thought I was stuck,

sunken at the bottom of the river.

The current of God's grace swirled into 

and around me,

dislodging me from the mud,

tumbling me forward. 

They say He's always on the move,

like Aslan, good but not safe.

I have my doubts sometimes.

He invites me to take up my cross

and follow Him.

Is this what we must carry?

These moments when we are least like Him,

so many.

I'm never going to be like Him.

Is this the cross that we must carry?

At least I get to follow Him.

But this consecration is painful.

Do I have an option?

Of course I do.

It's just that one brings life after death,

and the other brings just death. 

Either way, death is involved. 

God give me the grace to choose

to be an agent of your healing 

and liberating grace.

If I were only a carrier of the sickness

of the world,

how could I live?*

God search me and know me.

Your eternal current tumbles me onward,

gathering, cultivating, releasing

me onto its banks.

I am formed in You, 

and rest beside You,

all for the sake of others. 

Your story rushes over us

on a bedrock of witnesses.

Crying out,

you rush over them.

I was near them so I fell in

and the rest is history.

*Inspired by Chapter 1 of M. Robert Mulholland Jr.'s book Invitation to a Journey: A Road Map for Spiritual Formation

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