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5 And when thou prayest, thou shalt not be as the hypocrites are: for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and in the corners of the streets, that they may be seen of men. Verily I say unto you, They have their reward.
6 But thou, when thou prayest, enter into thy closet, and when thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father which is in secret; and thy Father which seeth in secret shall reward thee openly.
7 But when ye pray, use not vain repetitions, as the heathen do: for they think that they shall be heard for their much speaking. -Matt 6
Kissing God
When Thou…for They Love... Kissing God. Intimacy with Him has nothing whatever to do with others. Kissing God is personal, private, passionate. Depending on your gifting and ministry, it is easy to make this a "business lunch" rather than a time for friends to sit together. To go to Him to get food or counsel to give out to others. For me, I have learned I never consider what transpires there in each other's arms as for anyone else. That is sort of like having God kiss waxed paper to later apply to the lips of others.
His lips, in that time, and mine, are for each other alone. My intention is not to use that time to gain insights (not even "accidentally" or "incidentally") for teaching or preaching, but to feed my own soul on Him. I do find that the accumulation of understanding impacts not only what we offer others, but what we become. For me it is about what motivates me to spend to time with Him. I belabor this, because nothing turns those intimacies into an impoverishment of my own soul faster than taking this meat and giving it to others, instead of eating it myself. Imagine, I could starve while sitting in the lap of His banquet! Sadly, I've experienced that .
Pace change
The Synagogues/the Streets…Thy Closet… Pace change. This is a speed and processing change I seem to need. I find for me, slow two finger typist I am, that as I say with the written letters and words what my heart is expressing, wanting to say, things we are told His own Spirit too often must say for us anyway because there are no words, that in the spaces and time that the words go to the paper there is a reflective process. Rather than slowing my emotional involvement and losing my train of thought/interaction, I find the slowing down of writing, allows a deeper chewing of the conceptualizations and images, the impressions, the desires--and I find I am more in touch by typing my words and prayers and complaints and fears than in speaking. I am very influenced by our time, and I rush most everything I do. This time, by typing, becomes a very different pace. Perhaps this is much of what works in journaling for me.
Physical Intimacy
Thy Closet… Physical Intimacy. This will seem bizarre I suspect, but I think valid, certainly so for me. Sometimes I light candles, like I would with a lover. Sometimes I arrange some space in my office, lay the scriptures open, and fix a fresh cup of tea with honey. Like I would with any dearest friend. Quite often I touch with my fingers splayed open the pages of scripture, caressing them, touching over the words as I read; or sometimes touching the table surface, absentmindedly, but I need to feel sensation, to touch Him. I am often prone to kiss the scriptures, again to kiss Him physically. I always, always sense His entering into this intimacy with me as a fluttering of chills through my spine. A centering, a relaxing into Him, a coming away from this world to His presence in a more palpable way. It is feeling, for me silly as it is, His touch, His caress.
Secretiveness
Shut the Door... in Secret… Secretiveness. For me it is important to keep the time and habit invested in a devotional life out of the limelight. If I am asked about quiet times, devotional life; if it comes up in conversations, I just say, "yes, I do pray some." To reveal any more about extent and content and that sort of thing is to lose the magic, to lose the secret He and I share. It is to go and tell your buddies in school you kissed Susan, you had her. Susan doesn't feel special, but used. And while you gain some notoriety, you lose something of soul and heart. Something precious becomes merchandise. I know sharing all this seems a contradiction, but it doesn't feel wrong.
Heart words
Use not Vain Repetition… Not a mantra, not a ritual repetition. Real words. Heart words. It won't do to talk nicely to Him, to talk to Him as you might to the President of the United States. He is so much bigger than the President that we could only do as those who fell trembling at God's presence. He invites us, enables us to speak into His ear, and He into ours. Don't guard words and emotions. Don't pretend. That works in both directions. Don't pretend not to be angry if you are angry, and don't pretend not to be passionately, adorationally, emotionally descriptive of your feelings if you are wanting to swoon in His arms, to tell Him how beautiful His words are, His hands with those nailprints, those etchings of love with our names. Don't hesitate to make love to God in words. To snuggle into His chest, to fall at His feet and weep.
Time
Enter into… Time. No lover is satisfied with 5 minutes. With furtive glance alone. Lovers touch all day, but there is an intimacy of union together with substantial duration in the night that undergirds the closeness two lovers feel throughout the day. Don't expect to be totally ravished, totally spent, totally satisfied in less time with Him than you would hope for with an earthly lover. But with this union time together, throughout the day you will feel His touch and hear His whispers teaching, encouraging, comforting.
Union/Communion
Thy Father which Seeth… Union/Communion. Let Him give Himself to you, and you to Him. Perhaps this is the hardest thing. To know, and deeply accept, that He greets you with a holy kiss, with a smile at the sight of you turning the corner, with a delight in touching your hair, tracing the curve of your cheek, listening intently to your every word, the sound of your voice, the beat of your heart. This One is our Lover, and we His. Doesn't matter how absurd this may sound or seem, or how frighteningly or timidly we embrace such truth. |
More Than Techniques
Some think of spiritual formation as largely a matter of certain personal disciplines like prayer, meditation, various means of absorbing scripture, developing intimacy with God. Often included are means in facilitating progress like fasting, solitude and journaling. Some go a step further and may even speak about some out workings that facilitate progress by serving others (especially in small and simple ways, everyday ways), evangelism, and accountability for all He has provided us with as forms of active worship. These are all so rich and fruitful and needed.
I'd like to add one area that in these processes I have been again and again brought to consider more fully. That is the cross, and more specifically, what I think of as the nail that fastens us to it. Overall, our Lord was fastened there by His unwavering love and commitment to seek and to save us. In that, He yielded His hands to the spikes that fastened Him. In John 20, in the encounter with the disciples, and Thomas in particular, Thomas requested our Lord show his hands and side:
"Except I shall see in his hands the print of the nails, and put my finger into the print of the nails, and thrust my hand into his side, I will not believe. And after eight days… came Jesus… and stood in the midst, and said, Peace be unto you. Then saith he to Thomas, Reach hither thy finger, and behold my hands; and reach hither thy hand, and thrust it into my side: and be not faithless, but believing."
Nails Fasten Us To The Tree
These nails were real. I think for us, too, the only secure fastening to the cross is also His love shed and poured into us by His own Spirit. But there are still these nails that will fasten us there physically. The nails bring immediate pain to bear. We tug against these and feel pain. Daily. Or, we pull them out and run. Too often, we pull the nails out and run.
I can only speak for myself, so at very best I can give you only an idea of what I mean. But you no doubt know and will recognize your own things that in your life are your personal nails. Mine I discovered in the following passage:
Eph 4:30-32 "And grieve not the holy Spirit of God, … Let all bitterness, and wrath, and anger, and clamour, and evil speaking, be put away from you, with all malice: And be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ's sake hath forgiven you."
"All, Lord?" I ask.
Silence (I take that as a yes).
"Forgive as I have been forgiven? But, but, but..." I sputter.
Silence. *sigh*
Okay.
But "okay" becomes a lifelong journey of submission to Him who is wiser and whose intent is always my good. It should be easy, but it isn't; and it isn't, for me, a once done thing. "Okay" must become a daily—moment by moment—taking up of my cross.
I am not trying to be theologically accurate here. You can quibble about holy anger, but for me, personally, there is no such thing as righteous anger, there is only the anger and railing and lashing out/back of my sin nature defending itself, trying to pull out the nails that fasten me to the cross. My flesh discovers itself to me in these emotions. My anger and argumentiveness only comes when I feel slighted, threatened, attacked, dismissed, abused, misrepresented, maligned, not appropriately adored enough, not the center of attention, put down. I don't like that. I have my rights, I want to assert.
Then I see Him hanging on that tree. He gave up His rights. He gave up the glory He rightly held. I don't want to do that. It isn't natural to follow Him. It goes against everything natural in me to deny self, to willingly hang with Him on that tree. No, when self is attacked, my flesh feels the flash fire emotions of anger, and I want to argue and fight, and these I have come to think of as feeling the nail fastening me to His cross.
What will I do? If I give in to my anger, my visceral reaction, it is, I think, like tugging against these nails that hold me to the cross that wants to completely destroy my flesh, destroy me, take away my pride, my joy of self revelry, passions, wallowing in fears and lusts and lovely, wonderful self-me.
"No!" my flesh cries out. "no, I am important, you cannot treat me like this, I am important, I am a good person, I am nice, I care, I, I, I must increase!"
He knows what I struggle with. He knows what it feels like hanging on this tree. Immeasurably higher was His ordeal, the gap from who He was to what He allowed, unfathomable. But I, like the dear thief, really deserve this cross. It isn't noble for me to hang here. It is right.
I struggle against my flesh being held to this cross, the cross that wants me to die to my own self importance, to my self love, to my self centeredness, to my rights, to what I think I deserve in my high self estimation, to what is normal for any to have, be, own, do. The more I recognize these emotions as the nail in my hand, fastening me to the cross, the more I am brought to see this process of spiritual formation strongly interwoven with the cross, to be brought to face Him, me, the world, good, bad, holiness, love, love. Until I yield to these nails I can feel anger, hatred, malice in a heart that should, could, instead be filled with love. That love found on the other side of the cross this day, every day. The nails must help me know whether I hold or run from the cross.
This becomes a mental image I've found useful. Over the years, time and again He has brought me to think about that nail that was in His hand. It left a hole in His hand. I have one now offered me, one I know and feel daily. This nail is a gift. This nail is perhaps the thorn that circumstances welled up in Paul's own heart that he sought relief from. Then he learned to glory in this weakness. It is a gift.
Have you been given a nail in your life you might identify in this way, something that reveals to you your struggle with the flesh very clearly, something that helps you yield to the workings of the cross?
-Art Mealer |