Reflections: If Grace is True

Recently I've felt a nudge to publish some journal entries previously kept private or shared with a few like-minded friends. This reflection, written a few months ago is one of those pieces.
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I've just finished reading the book, If Grace Is True: Why God Will Save Every Person, by Philip Gulley and James Mulholland, for the third time! I've been asking myself a question . . . what is it about my own experience that makes the message of the book so compelling to me?

As a child, I heard mixed messages--I heard "God is love", sang "Jesus loves me" and "Jesus loves the little children of the world" but I also heard sermons about hell and damnation for those who didn't accept Jesus as their Savior, who didn't believe [i.e., as we believed, didn't have the truth, as we did]. I could never quite understand why, if love were stronger than hatred, if we were to overcome evil with good, as we nonresistant Mennonites were taught, why we continued to promote salvation using fear, proclaiming the terrors of hell, offering escape from eternal torment rather that inviting people to experience the goodness of God. It didn't make sense to me.

As a young adult who passionately and without reservation recommitted my life to following Jesus, I began to encounter these tensions again. I read the Bible from cover to cover numerous times. In my attempt to take Jesus' life and work seriously, to apply it faithfully to my own life, I seemed constantly bumping into those Christians who would explain away what I sensed in my spirit as truth, who would limit love and grace, making it more practical and somewhat conditional. For a period of time, in my sincerity, I read the Bible as literal truth, but something didn't "feel" right in my spirit, something about it became legalistic, quenching the Spirit within me. ["for the letter kills, but the Spirit gives life" 2 Cor 3:6b]

For many years I held in tension Biblical authority (which was actually church authority--the traditional interpretation of church leaders) and what my own heart--what I believe to be the inner voice of the Spirit--was nudging me to acknowledge about the implications of God as Love, God as Grace. These nudgings shaped how I felt about those with a different lifestyle than mine, it even shaped my parenting . . . I longed for my children to make good choices based on love and an inner sense of what was right, rather than out of fear of punishment, or "because I said so."

My studies of the history of the church with its fights and splits, the history of how the canon, our Bible, was selected amidst power struggles, in tandem with my own observation of the misuse of power and authority by some church leaders today, led me to adjust my understanding of scripture. No longer can I hold my childhood view that God dictated scripture, nor do I ascribe to a doctrine of inerrancy as do fundamentalists. The Biblical texts are no less sacred, however. As the story of God's interaction in history recorded throughout a long period of time, these texts hold within them the truth and wisdom of God, as understood and interpreted by inspired, yet fallible humans. The Bible tells of the nature and work of God as revealed in the life and teachings of Christ. Its words become life-giving when interpreted by the living Spirit. I believe that wisdom and truth continue to be revealed by the Spirit to those who truly seek God with their whole heart.

With this understanding, I began to test and weigh the insights of scripture, using the filter of Jesus' life and teachings along with my own experiences and the resonance of the Spirit within me. I began, slowly, to trust my own sense of who God is. A serious study of other major religions brought the shocking awareness that there are persons in each with a devout commitment to discovering spiritual truth, and to practicing a life of peace, love and forgiveness. What could it mean when non-Christians live a life more Christlike than some who openly and stridently profess to being born again?

More and more, I've been drawn by God's love, grace and mercy, as taught and modeled by Jesus. It is the way to joyful living and the influence that I want to guide my decisions and how I view and treat others. In this process, I've had to make room for the unknown, for God as Mystery. I acknowledge that there are many things I just don't know, but in letting go of my need to know, I have experienced a new level of inner peace, of living with questions rather than having all the answers, of trusting that "all shall be well."

Some of these ideas have been taking shape within my spirit for years, mostly unspoken, or hidden within my journals. They were difficult for me to articulate with clarity, nor did they seem safe to discuss in family or church circles, since some of the ideas do not represent orthodox theology. When this book "found" me (and yes, I believe when our lives are led by God's Spirit, certain books and experiences "find" us at the needful time!) it was like meeting kindred spirits and fellow seekers who were putting on paper what my own spirit had been wrestling with for quite some time.

Through these words, the Spirit spoke to me, confirmed some of my perspective, and challenged me to consider some new interpretations of familiar passages of scripture, new ideas about grace beyond what I had imagined. A more complete understanding of God's grace for all people not only frees me from the bondage and exclusiveness of an "us and them" paradigm, it compels me to live according to this understanding, not limiting God's grace to a chosen few, but extending it to all, inviting all people to come to God's table, trusting that it is this love and grace that will overcome the barriers to relationship with God and will draw people to repentance, to turn away from former things, to live as Jesus did.

I do not presume to have a corner on truth, nor can I say with certainty that I'll always believe exactly as I do now. My beliefs have been an unfolding journey, and I am committed to remaining open to new leadings of God's Spirit. This book, however, is a pretty good representation of my current understanding of the implications of God's love and grace.
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Reflections on The Wisdom of Forgiveness

I recently read The Wisdom of Forgiveness: Intimate Conversations and Journeys by the Dalai Lama and Victor Chan. What follows are some reflections from my journal.

The mantra is forgiveness and interdependence. His wisdom and practice is presented in the midst of his experiences of meeting and sharing stories with folks all over the world. There is one meditation practice which strikes me . . . it's a bit different and for sure more universal in perspective than our normal individualistic spiritual practice.

In response to the question "Is there a special meditation technique that you use?" he says, "I use a meditation technique called giving and taking. I make visualization: send my positive emotions like happiness, affection to others. Then another visualization. I visualize receiving their sufferings, their negative emotions. I do this every day. I pay special attention to the Chinese--especially those doing terrible things to the Tibetans. So, as I meditate, I breathe in all their poisons--hatred, fear, cruelty. Then I breathe out. And I let all the good things come out, things like compassion, forgiveness. I take inside my body all these bad things. Then I replace poisons with fresh air. Giving and Taking. I take care not to blame--I don't blame the Chinese and I don't blame myself. This meditation is very effective, useful to reduce hatred, useful to cultivate forgiveness."

What I find remarkable about this meditation is that rather than shun poisons, he takes them in and replaces them with compassion and forgiveness. I've often wondered how to pray, how to respond to negativity and pain. This gives me a technique to respond to some of the ugliness. I'm going to try it.

I have frequently used a breathing technique to breathe in love and light and breathe out my stress and pain. Take in the good, let go the bad. This seems to be the opposite. Take upon oneself the ugly, breathe out blessing. Reminds one a bit of Jesus, doesnt' it? Perhaps in my practice of prayerful meditation there is a time for each.

The Dalai Lama also shares a delightful image about the potential impact of small actions, an illustration of interdependence. He calls it the Butterfly Effect. The flapping of a butterfly's wings in Beijing could cause minuscule atmospheric changes, which over time could affect weather patterns in Vancouver. It reminded me of similar thoughts contained in writings of Madeleine L'Engle.

From where I sit…

We are gone for the week, working and then relaxing. I love it that all I need is Kindle and I can take a whole
library with me. I am never without something to read, including news apps.

We are at the house in Tioga County for a couple days before going to Slate Run for the annual Kennel family reunion. We are enjoying the quiet beauty, sitting on the porch, listening to birds, watching monarchs hovering over the milkweed patch. This morning we saw four buck under the apple trees. There is a bunny out there too.

Sarah and her family will be here by noon and it won't be so quiet after that!



-- Post From My iPhone

Books: The Unlikely Disciple

A Sinner's Semester at America's Holiest University, by Kevin Roose. A young journalism student at Brown University decides to spend a semester at Liberty University incognito and then write about his experience. He figures this will be as much of a cultural shock as any semester abroad.

I found the book to be fascinating. Roose is quite a remarkable young man…observant, open to learn, insightful, wise for his years, honest about his experience and respectful of his friends. So much so that the reader is hooked, wondering what the author's personal transformation might be in the end.…


-- Post From My iPhone

Keeping on keeping on…

I've been participating in a 40 day email series called "Practicing Spirituality with the Quakers". Much of what I've read is not new to me, but nonetheless, there have been helpful reminders of some of my deepest core values. A recent excerpt jumped out at me, touching a longstanding area of personal vulnerability:

"Not one of us will live long enough to see a fraction of the difference we make, but it is essential that we pursue our ideals anyway. Many of the first Quakers never saw freedom of religion come to England. Most of the original suffragists never got to vote. The murdered civil rights workers did not get to see racial tensions ease. Few idealists live long enough to see their dreams made real, and yet their influence lives after them, and their dreams do, sometimes, come true for others."

— Kate Maloy in A Stone Bridge North

Years ago our home seemed to be a haven for folks in need. We poured our energy, our love and our resources—our very selves—into the lives of several individuals and families. We have no sparkling success stories to tell, we can't point to lives transformed in any obvious way. Reading such stories has always stirred up questions for me about what we did or didn't do or might have done better. And yet I've always been comforted, in that inner place of knowing, that we did the best we could with what we knew at the time, that our motives were loving and sincere, and that those events and relationships came to us for a reason. Looking back, I see holy moments.

Living faithful, living true in our relationships has always been important to us. We may not see that we've made any difference in our lifetime, but these words by Karen Maloy encourage me to keep on keeping on!

-- Post From My iPhone

A Book Review, of sorts

We Have a Religion: The 1920s Pueblo Indian Dance Controversy and American Religious Freedom, by Tisa Wenger

In reading the cited book, one of the things that was obvious to me was that everyone sees these events through their own filter of experience, including participants documented in the story as well as those of us who read it. I was acutely aware of how my own experience of authoritative religion was shaping my response at times, how I felt in my gut the familiar angst, the sickening knot of being patronized by what I've called 'benevolent patriarchy' (and sometimes not so benevolent, though I think the patriarchs involved intended it to be so for the most part!), the pain of knowing that one's experience, beliefs and/or personhood is not valued by those in positions of power and influence.

Arrogance! Over and over, I was struck by the arrogance of religious and government leaders presuming to know what was and is best for Native Americans without giving them voice in the decision-making process. The assumption that our religious beliefs have evolved and are in all ways superior to indigenous and other non-Christian spiritual wisdom and practice is troublesome. It was interesting to read the Native American's development of religious and legal arguments that continue into the present. Reading of these ongoing cases, it strikes me again as ironic and arrogant to observe the U.S.'s presumed right to speak with authority to civil conflicts around the globe, when our own record is so dismal.

It was fascinating to read of the development of the term "religion" within the tribes, how religious arguments were made on behalf of traditional leaders and progressives alike; and that the western concept of individual choice as applied to religious freedom has been a two-edged sword. And to read about the controversy posed by the presence of non-Indian spiritual seekers in the present . . . I hadn't thought about some of these things.

I have no first hand experience with the realities of the Native American experience. It would be interesting to hear a response and discussion involving persons who have lived and worked in proximity to native peoples, medical people who have been in the clinics, those who've worked in orphanages, those who have provided social services, who have seen the ugly side of societal breakdown--drug and alcohol abuse, domestic violence, sexual abuse. I suppose, just as in the historical record, the opinions of cause, effect and solution would range across the spectrum.

I finish the book with an appreciation for the complexity of the issues. In spite of the challenges, we must continue to find ways to live together in this nation, respectful of those things held to be sacred, yet recognizing the great diversity among us in that regard. Three years ago, Larry and I had the marvelous privilege of spending eight days and seven nights on a river rafting trek through the Grand Canyon. It was not only an exploration of physical beauty and grandeur, but an awesome and reverential experience as well. Did we desecrate sacred Native American space even though we were respectful and abided by the "leave no trace" dictum? What is an equitable solution to such dilemmas? And how is sacred space violated by Native Americans when economics are involved? (I'm thinking now of the glass walkway suspended over the canyon and open to the public.)

This book, with its extensive documentation, careful exploration, and insightful interpretation, adds a valuable perspective to the discussion, but I, for one, don't have answers.