Holy Stubbornness!

A short while ago, I participated in a spiritual direction instruction on the Ignatian Spiritual Exercises with other participants who were entering into their second year of ministry preparation as spiritual directors. As I began to listen to the presenters speaking of meditation, they invited us to imagine ourselves at the birth of Jesus and present in the stable. I found myself resisting this form of prayer and I said to myself, “This is not how I pray. I am not comfortable with this form of meditation. The fewer the words, thoughts, and images, the better for me to be just present to the Presence.” Well, God thought otherwise. Somehow I was given a sacred nudge to just try it and open myself to the grace of the moment and the Gospel. The reflection below is the result of my struggle - God loves us even when we “act up” or “act out” as God delights and dares to move in and through our holy stubbornness.

Servant Freed! 

I stand in the darkened fissure of the stable,

lit only by the glowing face of the boy-child.

Parent eyes glistening with holy wonder,

while heavened stars point to

mangered Messiah.

I listen, I wonder, I breathe,

for I am only servant.

I stand in the darkened temple portico

observing those of the Law encircling

the teacher-child.

His face radiates with

purpose and passion about God’s call!

I listen, I wonder, I breathe,

for I am only servant.

I stand in the Cana garden among

the six stoneware water jars.

His mother moving his mission,

“Do whatever he tells you.”

Waters of purification touched

with words of transformation

become intoxicating wedding wine.

Speak these words over me . . .

fill me to the brim with courage as

I listen, as I wonder, as I breathe,

for I am only servant.

I stand along the steep grassy edges of the

partial rocky hillside,

His face emits energy with each spoken,

“Blessed are you!”

I listen, I wonder, I breathe,

for I am only servant.

I stand in the upper room, corner-concealed,

yet his eyes beckon me to move

within his touch.

His carpentered hands accept each foot

as with the artistry of fitting rough hewn wood.

With tender, soothing, healing – intimate

knowing, he bends to wash my feet.

Upon this embrace - God-light, God-love

streams into my very soul-

I listen and hear within me:

Untie her.

What do you want me to do for you?

Pick up your mat.

I do not condemn you.

You are worth more than many sparrows.

You are no longer servant – you are friend.

I wonder, I breathe . . .

 sjh