Front Row Seat

     

 

 

Some of you have wondered what I have been studying the past two years since I completed the certification process to be a spiritual director through Sustainable Faith. I typically encounter blank looks when I say I am a spiritual director.  Or the comment, “You mean you are a counselor?”  I am not a counselor. It is not mentoring or coaching. Let me describe what I am privileged to offer to fellow travelers on this journey called Life.

As a spiritual director I extend to people hospitality as I humbly listen to their stories with open heart and without judgment. I honor what a person brings to direction with my attention and respect. I notice their choice of words, their emotions (especially what brings the tears), their responses to life and God, and their definition and experience of God. Using Spirit prompted questions and observations, I invite individuals to look inward to name their longings, distress and fears or their joys, consolations and blessings. As they identify what is in their heart, they can respond to God. Contrary to what spiritual direction implies, I do not direct people’s lives.  You might say I “direct” a person’s attention towards God, recognizing that God is the director of each of our lives. In the hour that I meet with an individual, it is a conversation, or prayer, between three; God, the individual, and me. My responsibility is to help the person before me pay attention to their relationship with God. My relationship with God is the second most important relationship in that hour and the relationship between me and the client is the third most important relationship.

A simple definition of spiritual direction by William A Barry and William J Connelly is, “Spiritual direction proposes to help people relate personally to God, to let God relate personally to them, and to enable them to live out the consequence of that relationship.”

In spiritual direction, a person shows up in all realness and ugliness to find a sacred, safe space filled with grace. It is necessary that they bring who they are and what needs to come out. They wrestle with their disillusionment, their anger with God, their stagnant and no longer satisfying faith, their vocation, questions, relationships and disappointments. As the individual examines the raw materials of their life, they begin to recognize life’s trials are a launching pad to a more intimate relationship with Beloved Trinity. They discover that they are normal and what they are experiencing is a normal part of the journey as a Christ follower.

For me, having a front row seat to the movement of God in a person’s life is being granted the privilege of viewing miracles of transformation every time we meet. Since I embarked on this vocational change, my own heart continues to be transformed and an expanse of grace has opened for me that I never before experienced. My God has gotten bigger, my questions more numerous, and my peace with the mystery of God is deeper. God reveals and God keeps some things hidden.  That is the mystery of God. Even with unanswered questions, my experience of God reveals the character of God. I rest in the goodness and extravagant love of God. I look to the cross and I see….Love.

If receiving spiritual direction sounds like something you or a loved one might need, I would welcome the opportunity to talk to you more about it. The nature of direction lends itself best to seeing someone you do not know. If you know me, I would refer you to one of my spiritual director peers. If you are a stranger to me, I would count it a privilege to listen to your story. I meet with clients at Kavanna House, a retreat center in York, at an office in my church, New Life Fellowship, Ephrata, PA or over Skype. The first session is complimentary.

 

Love's Back

 

Little Miss M and I spent a summer morning sharing conversation, the words simple for Miss M is seventeen months old,  and playing with blocks and Mr. Potato Head. After lunch, her glassy-eyed stare and yawns indicated a nap was needed.  Upstairs in the nursery, we said good-night to the toys, turned on the fan, closed the blinds and smothered her with kisses and “Grammy loves you”. With Nuk in her mouth and her fingers stroking her curls, I place her in the crib. Immediately, Miss M stands up lamenting, her plump little arms reaching for me as I walk out the door. 

Miss M sees my back.

Downstairs, I go to work prepping for our dinner, checking email, tidying up and tending to chores. Always with an ear to the monitor, never out of range and never would I leave her for a minute. She bangs her legs on the crib, leans against the rail, flops down, gets up, and laments some more, fighting her much needed rest.  She throws her Nuk overboard and the cries become distressed. I return to the nursery, retrieve the Nuk, kiss her tousled head, tell her I love her and walk out the nursery door.

Miss M sees my back.

Moments later the cries quiet. The monitor shows my grandbaby flat on her belly and at rest.

I’ve been thinking about suffering. How we are forced to endure pain, loss, disappointments and distress. The list of causes long: broken relationships, infertility, death, disease, poverty, racism, hope deferred, a failed business and so many more.  Sufferings as unique as individuals are unique. No need to compare sufferings, thinking some harder than others to bear, because the one enduring just hurts. In our pain we might think God has abandoned us, is punishing us or perhaps, even more depressing, we just aren’t one of the favored ones.

We see God’s back.

As I remember Miss M and me, light shines through a crack in my brokenness and into my enduring heart. God does not turn away from me or our world in all of its distress. When my stomach knots over the pain in my life or yours, I see the image of Miss M at rest, safe in her crib, her Grammy at work and watching over her.  

In my questions, fears and suffering, God invites me to surrender to love and rest. All the while God works and watches over me. We are under God’s blessing and God is at work for me and you.

Two hours later a call sounds from the nursery. I bound up the stairs and see her face turned towards the door expectantly. She sees my face and her arms reach out. Scooping her up with hugs and kisses, we go downstairs.  Her hands point to the door and she says “Buzzzz”. Outside we go to watch the bees drinking nectar from the butterfly bushes and try catching elusive butterflies, wisely escaping a toddler’s hands.

I cannot explain the suffering I see and experience. Still, when the tendrils of despair curl around my soul, this invitation now follows, “Rest, dear one. God is at work in and with you.”