“Now for the next exercise, you are to go outside, find a tree, and invite God into your consideration of it. Write in your journal as you go, and be back here in an hour.”
These were instructions I was given as part of a spiritual retreat some years back. And they left me more than a little uneasy about what was supposed to happen. Going outside and appreciating nature was easy for me, but sitting with a single tree for an hour as a spiritual contemplation exercise? I admit I was defeating myself before I began by trying to figure out what I was supposed to have already learned. But I tried anyway. “Consider the lilies,” right?
I found a tree — a redbud, to be specific. It was not in the season of its majestic glory. In fact, it appeared to have had a hard life. Upon closer examination, it was home to a colony of carpenter ants that had been actively reclaiming the damaged wood. Not knowing what else to write about, I wrote about the movement of the ants — and about everything else I noticed: the shape of the leaves, the activity of the birds, the way the wind moved through the branches…
To say I had a spiritual experience would be misleading; I felt nothing of the sort — and certainly no voice–and–light–from–the–heavens type of thing. But I did become more aware of a small slice of creation I otherwise would have ignored. And I realized that somehow this small–yet–deeper awareness was something like that awareness of the God who knows when every sparrow “falls to the ground,” who has “counted even the hairs of your head,” who knows “the number of the stars.”
I will also name that for the rest of the day I felt more grounded, more even-tempered, and was able to hold things in better perspective. Later experiments and practices of meditating on creation in a similar way has produced consistently similar results that I believe this is no mere correlation.
This week there has been a lot I want to yell and scream about. I’m furious and appalled and scared for my friends and neighbors. I keep hoping that THIS will finally be the thing that wakes the nation up to fight for itself and what is right. At the same time, I dare not expect so, when that hope has been dashed over and over again.
But I know that my friends and neighbors need an ally, and I cannot be that ally if I am destroyed by hate and anger. Staying grounded and holding perspective is both more challenging and more necessary than ever before. I don’t know what you do to hold your center, but hold on like your life depends on it — yours might, and others’ certainly do. If you need help, or you want to try out some other practices that might ground you in times like these, please consider reaching out.
Remember, we’re all in this together.
Pastor Michael