Category: Ignatian

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How do we feel God’s love?

I think it looks like a graveyard, now that the sunflowers have been harvested.

People talk about feeling the love of God, but how are we supposed to do that? Is it some sort of mystical experience only available to the spiritual elite? Or only to people graced with a particular sensitivity? Personally, I think that God’s love is much more accessible to us than that. In fact, God’s love is expressed any time we love others or others love us. I believe we can learn to take that experience of God’s love mediated through other people (and animals) and use it to tap into a sense of God’s unmediated love for us. How about trying the following exercise?

Settle into your seat, close your eyes and take a few deep breaths. Rest calmly in silence for as long as you are comfortable. Then bring to mind a moment when you felt loved. If this is difficult for you, bring to mind a moment when you felt great love for somebody else. Dwell in this feeling. Revel in the warmth. Notice how it feels in your body, how it feels in your whole being. Imprint this feeling strongly in your mind, body and spirit.

Mark 10:13-16
People were bringing little children to him in order that he might touch them; and the disciples spoke sternly to them. But when Jesus saw this, he was indignant and said to them, ‘Let the little children come to me; do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs. Truly I tell you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.’ And he took them up in his arms, laid his hands on them, and blessed them.

Imagine yourself as a small child, out for a walk with a parental figure. It’s a warm sunny day, and you are feeling happy and relaxed. You come across a crowd of children gathered around Jesus. You separate from your parent and approach the crowd. Jesus is smiling and laughing with the children. He speaks words of blessing over them and the children go away happy. How do you react to that? Now it’s your turn to receive a blessing – go up to Jesus and let him give you a big bear hug. Now bring back to mind that experience of love you just recalled and feel it now. Experience it as God’s love being directly shared with you in the present moment. Rest there for a while.

What does Jesus say to you, if anything?

Now talk with God about this experience. Were you able to sense God’s love? Perhaps it was difficult. Be honest with God, and ask for more love for yourself and for the whole world.

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How does your (inner) garden grow?

If you are in the mood for a little ‘spiritual gardening’ you might like to try to following exercise, in which you consider your life as a garden and see what emerges.

Start by becoming still and calm in the presence of God. Perhaps do a body scan or a breathing exercise.

Now review what is happening in your life right now, using whichever of the following questions you find helpful:

Where is there growth? What is blossoming? Where is there fruit?

What is fading or dying? What is on the compost heap? What needs to be put on the compost heap?

What needs to be pruned? Does anything need to be trained?

Are any areas overrun with weeds or under attack by pests?

What parts of your life need to be fed with fertiliser?

Have you sown any seeds recently?

Are there completely new areas you’d like to dig over?

Talk to God about what has come up in this time of reflection and entrust your garden to him.

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Detachment and the rich young ruler

Amethyst deceivers + puff balls, autumn chanterelles + hedgehog mushrooms, and inkcaps, collected in a nearby forest.

This is a reflection I wrote in May this year on Mark 10:17-22

I wonder how you feel about this passage? I know that this is one of those difficult encounters with Jesus that we cannot ignore, but that can leave us feeling rather uncomfortable. In this story, Jesus seems very demanding – he asks the rich man to sell all his possessions and give the proceeds to the poor, is he asking the same of us? Since only a few actually take that path, does this mean that the rest of us are failing in our Christian vocation?

How we read these words depends on our image of God, what we really believe God is like. If he is punitive, demanding and a killjoy, then the message we hear is that we must try and earn God’s love by doing difficult things and denying ourselves. However, in this passage, we read that Jesus looked at the rich man and loved him. The Bible is peppered with verses that tell us how much God loves us and wants what’s best for us, and so this reading can’t be about doing hard things to earn God’s love – that love is already given. If we can believe that God is love and has our best interests at heart, then this passage has another message for us.

Let’s take a moment to consider what was going on in the rich man’s life. He was deeply religious and conscientiously followed the religious laws. He worked hard at doing the right thing and was committed to seeking eternal life, what we might call ‘salvation’. He sensed that there was something more to the spiritual life, but seemed to have come to the end of this resources. He had heard that the Rabbi Jesus had come to town – perhaps he could show him the way? Since he was a wealthy man, he could be fairly confident that he was on the right track, because wealth was understood as a reward from God for good behaviour. So he was hopeful, looking forward to a positive interaction with this teacher who would surely recognise his virtue. He believed himself willing to do whatever was required of him in the search for God. So, in his enthusiasm, he ran to Jesus and knelt down before him, asking the question, ‘What can I do to be saved?’ Now, there are two problematic words in this question, I and do. He believed he needed to work at getting God to accept him, and believed that he effectively could save himself this way. The focus was squarely on him and what he could do.

Jesus initially appears to go along with this assumption, listing various laws that must be kept – as if that was all that was needed – perhaps this was his way to find out how serious the rich man was. Only when pressed by this earnest young man, does Jesus give his unthinkable instruction to sell what he owns, and give the money to the poor.

his wealth was a blessing from God, it made no sense to give it all up – that would be like ungratefully returning a gift to the one who gave it, and so the rich man reacted with shock and grief. He was, perhaps, looking for a new way of praying or another religious practise, but Jesus didn’t tell him to take something new on, but to let go of what he already had. Jesus made it sound easy, but it wasn’t, and wasn’t just about the money, Jesus was also asking him to give up his status, security and even his family, as there’s no way that his relatives would have remained in contact with him if he had embraced a life of poverty.

It makes me think of Jesus’ words in John 12, where he says:

24 Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. 25 Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.

Jesus says what he does because he knows what the rich man really needs, he knows what will set him free and bring him abundant life. Giving up his wealth wouldn’t have earnt the rich man his salvation, as that is the gift of God, but it would have set him free to follow Jesus. The rich man’s life is under control, safe, he lives within comfortable limits. Jesus invites him beyond these limits, he challenges the rich man to let go of the control of his life and trust that God will catch him, but the rich man isn’t ready for that leap of faith. I also wonder whether Jesus asked the man to do the almost impossible partly to show him that he could not save himself?

Jesus’ challenge is followed by a promise and an invitation:

you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me

This invitation to ‘come follow me’ is the same as the invitation he extended to the first disciples. He called Andrew, Peter, James and John to leave their life as fishermen, but perhaps since they had less to lose it was easier for them to give up the little they had? But then Matthew left his job as a tax collector, which was a lucrative profession; in his case perhaps the fact that most people would have hated him for colluding with the occupying Romans, would have made him more willing to give it up that life? The man in our story is both rich and respectable, he has everything to lose and is too attached to his lifestyle and possessions to let go and follow Jesus. He doesn’t realise that his wealth has him trapped and is afraid of what would happen if he lost it. He isn’t free to pursue the deeper spiritual life that he desires.

Now, I just said that the rich man was too ‘attached’ to his wealth, and that was a deliberate choice of word. I want to say a just few words about the opposite: detachment. Unlike the rich man, the 12 disciples were sufficiently detached from their previous occupations to be able to leave them behind and follow Jesus. Ignatian spirituality understands detachment as a healthy impartiality, a distancing, an indifference. If we can be detached from things and habits, we are freer to choose those things and attitudes that lead to God. That isn’t to say that things are necessarily bad, quite the contrary, they can be a great blessing, but if they become too important to us, they entrap us and so hinder our growth towards God.

For the rich man, there was a call to be free from his possessions and a call to be free of the lie that there was something he could do to save himself. The rich man’s unhealthy attachments were brought to light by an encounter with Jesus; we can discover our unhealthy attachments by an encounter with the Holy Spirit.

These attachments can come in many guises, they might be material possessions or money, as in this passage, they might also be feelings and thoughts that bind us, cravings and addictions, or unhelpful thought patterns. For example, I struggle with an attachment to perfectionism. My tendency is to believe that if something I’ve done is not perfect, then it’s practically worthless. This puts the focus on me and my achievements, rather than on trusting God to use my, inevitably imperfect, efforts.

One way to test whether we are unhealthily attached to something, is to ask ourselves how we would feel if God asked us to let go of it. Our response will give us an indication of how attached we are, because, when we are free, letting go doesn’t feel difficult. Depending on what the attachment is, God may or may not ask us to let go of it, but we are invited to hold lightly even the good gifts in our lives.

The encounter in this story feels rather final. The rich man is presented with an ultimatum and declines Jesus’s invitation, albeit regretfully, as we read that he grieved as he walked away. I wonder whether the rich man might have changed his mind later on? Having had his unhealthy attachments revealed to him, perhaps, in time, he came to the point of being able to let go of them? After all, detaching from the things that keep us from a closer walk with God is a lifelong process.

To follow Jesus, the rich man needed to let go of his possessions. What are the things that limit our freedom to follow Christ? How might God be calling us into a more abundant life? Perhaps we can ask God to set us free to take risks with our time, talent and treasures for the purposes of God’s kingdom. I invite us to place all we are and have before God, giving thanks for all our blessings, and may God help us loosen our grip on whatever hinders us from serving him, confident that He won’t loosen his grip of love on us.

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Spiritual accompaniment

Who’s doing the accompanying?

In the past, spiritual accompaniment, or spiritual direction as it is also known, has largely been the preserve of ‘professional’ religious people, but it has been growing in popularity among the rest of us in recent years.

After four years of training and with experience of accompanying people on retreats and over longer periods in daily life, I have come to see spiritual accompaniment as offering hospitality by providing a safe, non-judgemental space where we can listen together to where God is at work in a person’s life.

I think I’m drawn to this work partly thanks to my personality – I have never felt like I had the answers to anyone’s problems or had anything particularly useful to say, which, funnily enough, has made me into a good listener! As far back as university, I remember asking my friends how they were ‘within themselves’ and even now, it seems like the most helpful thing I can do is ask a few questions and then see what surfaces.

To find out more, click here.

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Two Standards

Here is my reimagining of Ignatius’ meditation on the Two Standards

Imagine you are at a crossroads in your life. You have been invited to two job interviews with two very different potential employers.

The first is a huge multinational company with an annual turnover of hundreds of billions of dollars. As you approach the building for the interview, you notice its imposing architecture – it’s clean, shiny, and modern. The lines are straight and nothing is out of place. No expense has been spared, because the people who work here are important and their work is highly profitable.

You introduce yourself to the receptionist, who smiles at you in a way that makes you feel important. She directs you upstairs to the office where you interview will be held. As you walk past, you notice impeccably dressed employees using the latest technology and original artworks lining the walls.

You are welcomed into an office where you meet your interviewer. He is wearing a designer suit, diamond-studded cufflinks and an expensive watch. He sits behind an expansive desk; he is clearly a powerful, wealthy, respected individual. He asks you a few questions so easy that you barely need to think about your answers. He then goes on to tell you about the role, how important the position is and how they need to find just the right person, and that it looks like it could be you. He hints at the salary, which is a figure so huge that you can scarcely believe it. He mentions that working for this company would open all sorts of doors socially and even politically. He speaks with a charismatic ease and conviction. But there is something about him that makes you hesitate. You wonder what it might cost you to accept this well-paid, high-profile job offer and whether you might become filled with pride?

As the interview ends, you leave the meeting room and look once more at the people working in the offices as you walk past. You notice something about the way they work: self-assured but something else…perhaps also a little empty? You pick up the company’s annual report on the way out, it’s filled with photos of happy employees and grateful customers, along with graphs and charts describing the economic successes of the previous year. The description of their main activities is ambiguous, but you soon realise that, in order to operate, this company must cause massive environmental destruction. It displaces indigenous people from their lands and exploits the most vulnerable. At face value, this opportunity it incredibly attractive, and it certainly appeals to some part of you, but there’s also a disquiet that is growing in your heart.

You have another interview later the same day. It’s in a part of town you do not know, and as you make your way through this unfamiliar landscape past rundown housing and overflowing bins, you wonder if the address you were given was correct. Grass is growing in the cracks between the paving slabs and you can hear birds singing. You knock on the door of a shabby, dilapidated old warehouse that is covered in graffiti. The door opens and you are welcomed in by a somewhat dishevelled-looking young man, with a scruffy beard and wrinkled clothes. His eyes are bright and sparkling, there is a joy within him that radiates in a way that is contagious. He thanks you for coming, and apologies for the surroundings – he explains that he doesn’t have his own office, but borrows whatever he can when he meets up with people. You both sit down on chipped plastic chairs in a dark corner and he asks you some piercing questions about your reasons for applying for the job and what you really want in life that really make you think.

He tells you about the work of his organization, of the service it provides, and of the deep impact for good that it has. He promises you meaningful work and growth in character. He warns you that the pay is terrible, that they have very limited resources, and that you would have to take a drastic cut in your standard of living. Then he tells you that people won’t value the work you would be doing; most think it’s pointless or foolish, some even think it is dangerous for society because it threatens to upset the status quo. He warns you that your family and friends will probably struggle to accept your new employment.

Your mind is telling you that accepting this job would be a crazy idea, but your heart is telling you something else – there is something about this man that is deeply attractive and good, you wish that you could become like him, you want to spend as much time with him as you can. He has a beautiful humility about him. You meet some of his workers on the way out, but in fact they seem more like his friends. They have a similar joy and openness, despite their obvious poverty.

You take your farewells, and on your journey back home you consider the two offers you have been given. The first offer is well-paid work that is valued by society – something you could be very proud of in a worldly sense – but you remember the emptiness of the workers, your discomfort with the interviewer, and the impact of the company’s operations. The second offer of work is very poorly paid and underappreciated – but you reflect on the beauty you saw in your second interviewer and his workers, their purity of spirit and humility, and the ways working with him would be positive for the world.

What do you decide to do?
Talk to the Trinity about it, one person at a time.

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Principle and Foundation

Ignatius of Loyola wrote his Principle and Foundation in the 16th century. Here follows my riff on theme

God so longed to express her creativity and to share her love with conscious beings, that she created an astounding universe from the tiniest speck of nothing. As matter coalesced and planets began to form, she chose one at just the right distance from it’s closest star and through the Word breathed her spirit into its slowly accumulating atmosphere. The simple elements and minerals joyfully responded by producing life in all its bounteous variety.

After many aeons, God called forth human beings from the fertile earth and the flame of her spirit flickered within them. God showered them with love and invited them to love her back without reserve, to respond with joyful praise, humble appreciation and to serve her by serving their fellow creatures. We, like them, are to become so immersed in God’s love that we become transparent to each other, like beacons that light the way to God for others.

God calls us to keep returning to her, as only she can wash away the pain and confusion that block out her light. God is patient with our wounds and failings, which are so tightly bound together with our gifts and graces. God calls us to be discerning about the direction of our hearts, to be on guard for those things that pull us away from her healing love. To hold all things lightly, so that the only things that grip us are the tender arms of God.

God calls us into union with herself to the point that all our other desires pale into insignificance. God invites us to fully lean into her embrace, trusting that whatever life brings to us will be used to achieve God’s purposes.