Nothing But Questions...

Have you ever been hamstrung in prayer?

It’s been such a long time since I’ve prayed for specifics—truth is, I don’t know the path to Ultimate Good for individuals in my life. I can quickly pray for light and truth, for goodness and mercy, for hope, for open hearts and open minds, but I find it so hard this morning to say, “God, give him his job back.”

I don’t know the future, and I don’t know the path to Ultimate Goodness for him. What if the loss of this job IS part of the path to the Ultimate Good in his life.

It’s so damn hard.

I’ve been watching the road construction around our area with a lot of interest. I dreamed a number of years ago that roads were being torn up and there was a lot of mess and chaos because a new way was being built—a new overpass was going up.

And now, here we are in the middle of the mess with almost every major road in our little area under construction. Much of my day is spent taking detours, and I often hear in my spirit what I heard all those years ago in my dream, “You can’t get there from here anymore.”

It seems much of lives, both private and public, in our homes, in our country, and in the world around us is now “under construction.” Chaos is everywhere. Many lives are in chaos. The young are dying from addiction and/or boredom, our elderly are dying from neglect and poverty, our government is hamstrung in making decisions, and I suspect at least part of the truth is that we are in uncharted waters, everywhere. The world as we knew it has passed away. There’s not much safety or predictability anymore. Working for a living and saving for a rainy day doesn’t work anymore. The rules that were applicable in our parents’ day are simply not working today.

And I don’t seem to have an answer anymore. It used to be so easy, “God will supply all our needs,” except “he” doesn’t. People who love God die from starvation with their needs unmet. “Love will find a way,” except it doesn’t seem to for a lot of people. I had someone tell me yesterday that God has cursed them. I don’t believe that for a moment, but some lives sure look it.

So back to my prayer time this morning. My plea to God, to the Universe, to the Ultimate Good – how do I pray for people in my life who are in need of prayer—how do I pray with wisdom and compassion?

Romans 8 just flashed through my thoughts: For the Spirit prays for us when we in our weakness don’t know how to pray. I want his job back. I want for her to be happy, to feel safe, to find Love. But the truth is I don’t really know much of anything. And this morning, my heart just plain ole hurts. I am grieved—not just at the loss and unhappiness around me, but I’m grieved that life is so uncertain, and the future is so unpredictable. And I’m grieved that my platitudes don’t work for people anymore. And I’m grieved I can’t say them with conviction anymore.

So, this morning I offer my grief and uncertainty to the Ultimate Good and just whisper, “Help.” “Help him, help her, even help Congress…” And I trust “help” will come—it may not look like I expected or hoped, but I still believe “Love never fails”. Love will win when it’s all said and done. I think.

The Song of Songs

I've been laboring for the last few weeks, working to give birth to a seed that was planted over 15 years ago. For a number of years in the 90's, I spent a great deal of time meditating over the passages of The Song of Songs in Scripture, contemplating the Bride and the Bridegroom and bridal love for God. A small group of "Lilies" met weekly listening to teachings and discussing what this love looked like and how we might obtain this great love for God, knowing full well that God loved us this completely.

Over the past few years, I've wanted to do something with the Scriptures from The Song, some kind of images, but didn't have a clue. Then a number of years ago I became fascinated with Mary Magdalene--yes, I saw/read The Da Vinci Code, but my interest was more than that. I was going through my own dark night. I was in a crisis of belief, and meditating on Mary's loss of Jesus, and his return to her in another form gave me hope. She became very important to me as an archetypal "wise woman"--one who had lost everything, and come through her own crisis of faith even stronger. I journaled with her, dialoged with her, prayed with her, and simply considered her love for Jesus. I pondered deeply the diverse meanings of resurrection, and what it meant to me personally. Mary got me through that dark night. She also had to lay to rest her understanding of Jesus and wait for something new to "raise from the dead". She kept me hoping that my loss, my crisis of believe, would lead me to something more of God, not less. And it did.

I've read Cynthia Bourgeault's book on Mary Magdalene twice since my sabbatical last December, and it's really moved me in a number of ways. The Lilies had a little saying all those years ago--"It makes my heart burn." Cynthia's book on Mary and The Wisdom Jesus "made my heart burn" for the first time in a very long time. And after nearly 10 years, I found myself immersed again in The Song. It's been delicious. And my creative juices have been flowing.

Many thanks to Cynthia Bourgeault, Leslie Hershberger and Jan Richardson for seeds of inspiration. I think I have enough ideas to paint for a lifetime right now--a whole series called The Lover and the Beloved. I don't know how far I'll get--I tend to run out of juice rather quickly sometimes, but as long as my heart keeps burning, I have a series of paintings swirling around inside of me just waiting to be born. This is the first one--it won't be the first of the series, but the first one finished.