This week for Spirituality Night, our community spent some time in Lectio Divina, an ancient form of prayer that involves reading and reflecting on passages from scripture. Simply put, in Lectio Divina, one first reads a passage from scripture; then reflects upon that passage; then responds by opening oneself up to whatever interior changes God wishes to work through that passage; then finally rests in the peace of God's presence.
We chose as our passage today's Gospel reading, Luke 17: 20-25:
This passage holds great meaning for me at this time in my life, when I am unsure of what path I am called to take, or what work I am meant to do. I am like those first disciples, longing to see Christ, but finding myself blind to his presence. And in my longing, I am vulnerable to all sorts of voices, most coming from within myself, saying "Look, there he is" - telling me that surely God is to be found in that place, or in this line of work, or in that way of life.
Day by day I am running down so many different roads, when what God asks of me is exactly the opposite - simply to be still, to be present, for the Kingdom of God can be found right here where I am, in this place, with these people.
In my prayer tonight, I felt God chiding me gently, saying slow down. Be present to me HERE. The last line of the passage struck me particularly hard - "But first he must suffer greatly and be rejected by this generation". Jesus suffered at the hands of those who did not recognize him for who he truly was. So often in my daily life, I am guilty of that same blindness. I am so consumed by searching for signs pointing to my life's purpose that I fail to recognize Christ in those around me - the members of my community, the women who pass through my office in the shelter, the people I see standing on street corners on my way to work. And when I do so, I miss altogether the true signs of my life's purpose.
Towards the end of our prayer time, I was greatly consoled by these words: "For just as lightening flashes and lights up the sky from one side to the other, so will the Son of Man be in his day". They seemed to embody the great hope that one day, all will be made clear. One day, the presence of God will burst forth in our lives with such power that we will not be able to miss it. One day, I will know the path that I am to take, the work I am to do, the life I am to lead.
And until the day, when lightening flashes within all corners of my soul, I will try to be still, to stay in the moment, to revere the presence of God in the people and places I find myself each day. Perhaps that is the paradoxical way to the Kingdom of God - a Kingdom whose coming cannot be observed, yet which ignites the sky with lightening bolts; a Kingdom whose all-consuming power is brought to birth in the quiet.
We chose as our passage today's Gospel reading, Luke 17: 20-25:
Asked by the Pharisees when the Kingdom of God would come,
Jesus said in reply, “The coming of the Kingdom of God cannot be observed,
and no one will announce, ‘Look, here it is,’ or, ‘There it is.’
For behold, the Kingdom of God is among you.”
Then he said to his disciples,
“The days will come when you will long to see
one of the days of the Son of Man,
but you will not see it.
There will be those who will say to you,
‘Look, there he is,’ or ‘Look, here he is.’
Do not go off, do not run in pursuit.
For just as lightning flashes
and lights up the sky from one side to the
other, so will the Son of Man be in his day.
But first he must suffer greatly and be rejected by this generation.”
This passage holds great meaning for me at this time in my life, when I am unsure of what path I am called to take, or what work I am meant to do. I am like those first disciples, longing to see Christ, but finding myself blind to his presence. And in my longing, I am vulnerable to all sorts of voices, most coming from within myself, saying "Look, there he is" - telling me that surely God is to be found in that place, or in this line of work, or in that way of life.
Day by day I am running down so many different roads, when what God asks of me is exactly the opposite - simply to be still, to be present, for the Kingdom of God can be found right here where I am, in this place, with these people.
In my prayer tonight, I felt God chiding me gently, saying slow down. Be present to me HERE. The last line of the passage struck me particularly hard - "But first he must suffer greatly and be rejected by this generation". Jesus suffered at the hands of those who did not recognize him for who he truly was. So often in my daily life, I am guilty of that same blindness. I am so consumed by searching for signs pointing to my life's purpose that I fail to recognize Christ in those around me - the members of my community, the women who pass through my office in the shelter, the people I see standing on street corners on my way to work. And when I do so, I miss altogether the true signs of my life's purpose.
Towards the end of our prayer time, I was greatly consoled by these words: "For just as lightening flashes and lights up the sky from one side to the other, so will the Son of Man be in his day". They seemed to embody the great hope that one day, all will be made clear. One day, the presence of God will burst forth in our lives with such power that we will not be able to miss it. One day, I will know the path that I am to take, the work I am to do, the life I am to lead.
And until the day, when lightening flashes within all corners of my soul, I will try to be still, to stay in the moment, to revere the presence of God in the people and places I find myself each day. Perhaps that is the paradoxical way to the Kingdom of God - a Kingdom whose coming cannot be observed, yet which ignites the sky with lightening bolts; a Kingdom whose all-consuming power is brought to birth in the quiet.
- 10:36 PM
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