From an excellent book I am enjoying a great deal, Listening for the Soul: Pastoral Care and Spiritual Direction, by Jean Stairs. I will be posting a review once I have finished reading it, but this quote jumped out at me this morning:
"Quieting down and focusing long enough to listen to the voice of God within us and within our noisy circumstances is perhaps one of the most important things we can do for ourselves and others at a time when we feel held against our will by the force of hurried living. It is the apparent incongruity with the whole direction of modern life that make contemplation profoundly healing. No longer should contemplation be an optional item on a list of things to do, but it should be seen as the breath of life for us and others." (p. 42)
I will be posting more quotes from this book!
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Monday, June 13, 2011
MUST.SLOW.DOWN
I thought I had slowed down quite a bit, as I have crafted/am crafting a container for my life that includes a lot of silence and stillness. But I have been hearing lately in prayer (and as I pray about signals my body is giving me, yes, I'm getting older but I think there is also a message here...) that I need to slow down even more. Lately this includes noticing when I am gobbling books on spirituality or theology, or when I have spent too much time on Facebook or other electronic connections, while not paying attention to things in my "container" that need to be done. I am also noticing that multi-tasking and trying to accomplish work too quickly is feeling more and more contradictory of what I know about what nourishes my health (spiritually as well as physically). (Excuse me while I take some calls and answer some emails....)
As I look back, I see many little lessons that have pointed in this direction. Many years ago, I used to walk to work in DC and noticed that I was rushing through the blocks and then waiting impatiently for the pedestrian signal to change. I experimented a few times with walking at my natural pace (much slower than when I rushed) and discovered I actually got to work more quickly and less exhausted, as well as enjoying the walk more and noticing things I missed when I was rushing. And I remember a number of times when, because I did not allow enough time to get things done, I rushed and lost or broke or failed or even fell and hurt myself. I also get anxious when I know I have to rush, and am learning to allow more time; and sometimes I get places early and calm but I used to (and sometimes still do) get there rushed and on the verge of late and not as present as I would like to be.
I have stepped away from a number of activities over the past several years, from volunteering and from church committees and from being part of a lot of organizations. I always struggle with whether I am being irresponsible and putting pressure on other people to step up to do things I am not doing (and if that is true, I am sorry and would like to hear about it). But I also know that when I have too many commitments outside of work and the ministry of spiritual direction, I am not being fully present to the activities I do out of a sense of "should," so I don't do them well or with intention, and then I am also frazzled with the things I am called to do. So I have to balance, over time, what I feel called to do (and these activities are not about making me happy, sometimes I am called to do things I really don't want to do) and what other people would like me to do, with protecting the quiet time I need to be the spiritual director I believe I am called to be, present and attentive and as free of my own "stuff" as possible when I meet with people.
How do you balance taking the time you need to be present and attentive to your soul and to God with your responsibilities to other people?
As I look back, I see many little lessons that have pointed in this direction. Many years ago, I used to walk to work in DC and noticed that I was rushing through the blocks and then waiting impatiently for the pedestrian signal to change. I experimented a few times with walking at my natural pace (much slower than when I rushed) and discovered I actually got to work more quickly and less exhausted, as well as enjoying the walk more and noticing things I missed when I was rushing. And I remember a number of times when, because I did not allow enough time to get things done, I rushed and lost or broke or failed or even fell and hurt myself. I also get anxious when I know I have to rush, and am learning to allow more time; and sometimes I get places early and calm but I used to (and sometimes still do) get there rushed and on the verge of late and not as present as I would like to be.
I have stepped away from a number of activities over the past several years, from volunteering and from church committees and from being part of a lot of organizations. I always struggle with whether I am being irresponsible and putting pressure on other people to step up to do things I am not doing (and if that is true, I am sorry and would like to hear about it). But I also know that when I have too many commitments outside of work and the ministry of spiritual direction, I am not being fully present to the activities I do out of a sense of "should," so I don't do them well or with intention, and then I am also frazzled with the things I am called to do. So I have to balance, over time, what I feel called to do (and these activities are not about making me happy, sometimes I am called to do things I really don't want to do) and what other people would like me to do, with protecting the quiet time I need to be the spiritual director I believe I am called to be, present and attentive and as free of my own "stuff" as possible when I meet with people.
How do you balance taking the time you need to be present and attentive to your soul and to God with your responsibilities to other people?
Friday, May 20, 2011
Jesus OR? Christianity???
I read one of Brian McLaren's questions last night in A New Kind of Christianity, and it brought together a whole lot of ideas I have been thinking about for quite a while, for myself personally, and as a spiritual director.
"How does spiritual formation in the way of Jesus differ from religious education in the way of Christianity?" (p. 170).
A few years ago, I was listening to a directee share about difficulties he was encountering with participating in institutional Christianity. And I have had many of the same difficulties. Then he asked me, "so what keeps you connected to Christianity?" The answer popped out of my mouth so fast, both of us were startled: "It's Jesus!" I have continued to reflect on the deep truth of that answer for me and for who I believe God is calling me to be. My own journey as a follower of Jesus began during a prayer group (40 years ago last month), when my inner being felt overwhelmed by love that I knew, without any doubt, was that of Jesus for me. That experience of deep, unconditional, unmerited and consistent Love has been the "touchstone" of my journey as a Christian.
Lately, I (and many other people) are finding that it can be embarrassing to identify as a Christian: there are so many ways that some Christians and some churches are demonstrating hate, judgment, rejection of anyone who is different, scandalous/abusive behavior, greed....the list could go on. I looked for a quote I have heard attributed to Mahatma Gandhi, "I like your Christ. I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ." (The attribution to him is disputed, but it is still a good quote!)
So, back to McLaren's question: how do I become more like Jesus? How do I "live Christ," or, as Paul said, what does it look like to say "I have been crucified with Christ and yet I am alive; yet it is no longer I, but Christ living me." (Galatians 5:19b-20) I know I can only to do that, only one moment at a time, and only by the continuing grace of God. I do need the fellowship of other followers of Jesus, in the church I attend, in the church as "the body of Christ" (locally and globally, past, present, and future), and with other seekers who yearn to know God deeply, whatever that looks like for and in them.
When I focus on Jesus and who he calls me to be, the many problems I have with the institutional church and with "Christians" whose behavior makes me cringe (as I am sure my behavior does for others at times!), become the background, not the foreground, of what it means for me to be a follower of Jesus. What if the goal of church could become, as McLaren says on the same page, "not simply to pump knowledge into people, but to train them in the "way of love," so they may do the "work of the Lord," empowered by the Holy Spirity, as the embodiment of Christ."?
What do YOU think?
"How does spiritual formation in the way of Jesus differ from religious education in the way of Christianity?" (p. 170).
A few years ago, I was listening to a directee share about difficulties he was encountering with participating in institutional Christianity. And I have had many of the same difficulties. Then he asked me, "so what keeps you connected to Christianity?" The answer popped out of my mouth so fast, both of us were startled: "It's Jesus!" I have continued to reflect on the deep truth of that answer for me and for who I believe God is calling me to be. My own journey as a follower of Jesus began during a prayer group (40 years ago last month), when my inner being felt overwhelmed by love that I knew, without any doubt, was that of Jesus for me. That experience of deep, unconditional, unmerited and consistent Love has been the "touchstone" of my journey as a Christian.
Lately, I (and many other people) are finding that it can be embarrassing to identify as a Christian: there are so many ways that some Christians and some churches are demonstrating hate, judgment, rejection of anyone who is different, scandalous/abusive behavior, greed....the list could go on. I looked for a quote I have heard attributed to Mahatma Gandhi, "I like your Christ. I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ." (The attribution to him is disputed, but it is still a good quote!)
So, back to McLaren's question: how do I become more like Jesus? How do I "live Christ," or, as Paul said, what does it look like to say "I have been crucified with Christ and yet I am alive; yet it is no longer I, but Christ living me." (Galatians 5:19b-20) I know I can only to do that, only one moment at a time, and only by the continuing grace of God. I do need the fellowship of other followers of Jesus, in the church I attend, in the church as "the body of Christ" (locally and globally, past, present, and future), and with other seekers who yearn to know God deeply, whatever that looks like for and in them.
When I focus on Jesus and who he calls me to be, the many problems I have with the institutional church and with "Christians" whose behavior makes me cringe (as I am sure my behavior does for others at times!), become the background, not the foreground, of what it means for me to be a follower of Jesus. What if the goal of church could become, as McLaren says on the same page, "not simply to pump knowledge into people, but to train them in the "way of love," so they may do the "work of the Lord," empowered by the Holy Spirity, as the embodiment of Christ."?
What do YOU think?
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Rubber Meeting the Road, on days when being faithful is hard
I am being reminded in prayer (again) that the reason I am blogging and developing my spiritual direction practice is because I feel called to these ministries. I get tangled up in worrying about whether I will be successful or if I may have made a mistake in discerning my calling, or maybe no one really wants what I have to offer (an old voice in my head, the tape of which I sense God trying to erase). I am not writing this today because I am trying to elicit responses, but because I need to be reminded that my only criteria for "success" is whether or not I am being faithful to what I believe God wants me to do. I need to speak this truth for myself and as a witness, today, for anyone who reads this, to the challenges of setting aside all other criteria. Doubt, distraction, fear, anxiety, all compete for my attention with the still, small voice I trust is coming from God.
I believe that God is affirming my call in many small ways, drawing my attention to books I need to read, ways I need to reach out, prayers I need to pray. I also am connecting to a number of people, my pastor, my spiritual director, spiritual friends, other spiritual directors, who affirm what I am doing. I have to trust one moment at a time and keep responding to the guidance I receive in prayer and from others. How seductive it is to long for approval, numbers, acclaim, "success" in the way the world defines it, and how utterly distracting it is from who God is calling me to be when I move toward those markers.
The quote below is one I have returned to over and over since one of my spiritual directors, many years ago, gave me her copy of Evelyn Underhill's The Spiritual Life. I need to read this again often at this stage of my journey:
"Our place is not the auditorium but the stage—or, as the case may be, the field, workshop, study, laboratory—because we ourselves form part of the creative apparatus of God, or at least are meant to form part of the creative apparatus of God. He made us in order to use us, and use us in the most profitable way; for His purpose, not ours. To live a spiritual life means subordinating all other interests to that single fact. Sometimes our positions seems to be that of tools; taken up when wanted, used in ways which we had not expected for an object on which our opinion is not asked, and then laid down. Sometimes we are the currency used in some great operation, of which the purpose is not revealed to us. Sometimes we are servants, left year in, year out to the same monotonous job. Sometimes we are conscious fellow-workers with the Perfect, striving to bring the Kingdom in. But whatever our particular place or job may be, it means the austere conditions of the workshop, not the free-lance activities of the messy but well-meaning amateur; clocking in at the right time and tending the machine in the right way. Sometimes, perhaps, carrying on for years with a machine we do not very well understand and do not enjoy; because it needs doing, and no one else is available. Or accepting the situation quite quietly, when a job we felt that we were managing excellently is taken away. Taking responsibility if we are called to it, or just bringing the workers their dinner, cleaning and sharpening the tools. All self-willed choices and obstinacy drained out of what we thought to be our work; so that it becomes more and more God’s work in us."
I believe that God is affirming my call in many small ways, drawing my attention to books I need to read, ways I need to reach out, prayers I need to pray. I also am connecting to a number of people, my pastor, my spiritual director, spiritual friends, other spiritual directors, who affirm what I am doing. I have to trust one moment at a time and keep responding to the guidance I receive in prayer and from others. How seductive it is to long for approval, numbers, acclaim, "success" in the way the world defines it, and how utterly distracting it is from who God is calling me to be when I move toward those markers.
The quote below is one I have returned to over and over since one of my spiritual directors, many years ago, gave me her copy of Evelyn Underhill's The Spiritual Life. I need to read this again often at this stage of my journey:
"Our place is not the auditorium but the stage—or, as the case may be, the field, workshop, study, laboratory—because we ourselves form part of the creative apparatus of God, or at least are meant to form part of the creative apparatus of God. He made us in order to use us, and use us in the most profitable way; for His purpose, not ours. To live a spiritual life means subordinating all other interests to that single fact. Sometimes our positions seems to be that of tools; taken up when wanted, used in ways which we had not expected for an object on which our opinion is not asked, and then laid down. Sometimes we are the currency used in some great operation, of which the purpose is not revealed to us. Sometimes we are servants, left year in, year out to the same monotonous job. Sometimes we are conscious fellow-workers with the Perfect, striving to bring the Kingdom in. But whatever our particular place or job may be, it means the austere conditions of the workshop, not the free-lance activities of the messy but well-meaning amateur; clocking in at the right time and tending the machine in the right way. Sometimes, perhaps, carrying on for years with a machine we do not very well understand and do not enjoy; because it needs doing, and no one else is available. Or accepting the situation quite quietly, when a job we felt that we were managing excellently is taken away. Taking responsibility if we are called to it, or just bringing the workers their dinner, cleaning and sharpening the tools. All self-willed choices and obstinacy drained out of what we thought to be our work; so that it becomes more and more God’s work in us."
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Believing Impossible Things at the Same Time
I have been reading Richard Rohr's The Naked Now: Learning to See as the Mystics See, and last Friday and Saturday I joined a sold-out crowd of other spiritual directors, ministers, and seekers, to hear him "unpack" his call to spirituality that is contemplative and non-dualistic. I (and many others) sense he is on to something as he writes and speaks about the need for both dualistic and non-dualistic thinking, about the importance of contemplative practice for moving beyond the "pigeonholes" of duality.
Duality is either/or, comparative, labelling thinking, that we need as we grow up and discover who we are in the world around us. We can't know what "short" is unless we know what "tall" is; we can't know what "up" means unless we learn what the word "down" means. We need these words and many others to try to make some sense of the world and who we are in relation to that world. The problem with duality comes, as Richard says, when we confuse words with reality: we become imprisoned in the illusion that our words are adequate to describe the essence of things. And the tragedy of dualistic thinking is that we use it to label and judge and distance people and groups and values, so that we believe we are "in," they are "out," we are "right," and they are "wrong," we are "good" and they are "bad." These distinctions can help us feel superior, safe, better about our selves (that we know deep down are really not that different from the "other"). But they are also terribly limiting...how do we transcend the boxes in which we find ourselves trapped?
What if that was what Jesus was trying to teach us when he said things like "anyone who wants to become great among you must be your servant, and anyone who wants to be first among you must be your slave" (Matthew 20:25, referring back to the story of those who "unfairly" received the same wage for working one hour as those who had worked all day, verses 1-16)? And the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5-7) is full of sayings that are so hard to understand that most of us for most of Christian history, have thought, "oh, that's nice" while we bypassed trying to hear what Jesus was calling us to: a life that goes beyond the labels of words, the categories that make us comfortable, the fuller, more abundant life that God was calling us to in that ultimate paradox of God becoming human, as a BABY (how fragile, how risky, how very strange).
Jesus the teacher of non-duality, trying to get us to transcend (go beyond the limits of) our labels and categories and comfort zones: what a concept! And how hard it has been for us to "get it." So hard, in fact, that his ultimate act of non-duality was to accept crucifixion as a consequence of his love for us, and then, THEN, come back to life after his disciples thought their world had ended. And we have had such a hard time understanding the deep implications of this, that (among other ways of trying to understand), Catholics have focused on the crucifixion (using the crucifix for all images of the Cross) and Protestants have focused on the resurrection (the "empty" Cross).
I'm not saying I really "get" the Crucifixion and Resurrection of Jesus more than anyone else. But it's where words fail me and I have moments of utter awe and glimmers of how great Jesus' love for me, you, the world, was/is, to take his commitment to us to that extreme, that I move, a little, out of the boxes and categories into an experience, even if it's just for a split second, of just how much God loves me--and you, and the world. And that's also where contemplative prayer, just sitting and focusing on God, brings me, beyond the words to the deeper reality that words can never adequately express. That practice, which is simple but never easy, has become the "place" to which God keeps drawing me back, to reach the deepest parts of my being, beyond words. I long for companions with whom to share this practice; will you join me, once in a while?
Duality is either/or, comparative, labelling thinking, that we need as we grow up and discover who we are in the world around us. We can't know what "short" is unless we know what "tall" is; we can't know what "up" means unless we learn what the word "down" means. We need these words and many others to try to make some sense of the world and who we are in relation to that world. The problem with duality comes, as Richard says, when we confuse words with reality: we become imprisoned in the illusion that our words are adequate to describe the essence of things. And the tragedy of dualistic thinking is that we use it to label and judge and distance people and groups and values, so that we believe we are "in," they are "out," we are "right," and they are "wrong," we are "good" and they are "bad." These distinctions can help us feel superior, safe, better about our selves (that we know deep down are really not that different from the "other"). But they are also terribly limiting...how do we transcend the boxes in which we find ourselves trapped?
What if that was what Jesus was trying to teach us when he said things like "anyone who wants to become great among you must be your servant, and anyone who wants to be first among you must be your slave" (Matthew 20:25, referring back to the story of those who "unfairly" received the same wage for working one hour as those who had worked all day, verses 1-16)? And the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5-7) is full of sayings that are so hard to understand that most of us for most of Christian history, have thought, "oh, that's nice" while we bypassed trying to hear what Jesus was calling us to: a life that goes beyond the labels of words, the categories that make us comfortable, the fuller, more abundant life that God was calling us to in that ultimate paradox of God becoming human, as a BABY (how fragile, how risky, how very strange).
Jesus the teacher of non-duality, trying to get us to transcend (go beyond the limits of) our labels and categories and comfort zones: what a concept! And how hard it has been for us to "get it." So hard, in fact, that his ultimate act of non-duality was to accept crucifixion as a consequence of his love for us, and then, THEN, come back to life after his disciples thought their world had ended. And we have had such a hard time understanding the deep implications of this, that (among other ways of trying to understand), Catholics have focused on the crucifixion (using the crucifix for all images of the Cross) and Protestants have focused on the resurrection (the "empty" Cross).
I'm not saying I really "get" the Crucifixion and Resurrection of Jesus more than anyone else. But it's where words fail me and I have moments of utter awe and glimmers of how great Jesus' love for me, you, the world, was/is, to take his commitment to us to that extreme, that I move, a little, out of the boxes and categories into an experience, even if it's just for a split second, of just how much God loves me--and you, and the world. And that's also where contemplative prayer, just sitting and focusing on God, brings me, beyond the words to the deeper reality that words can never adequately express. That practice, which is simple but never easy, has become the "place" to which God keeps drawing me back, to reach the deepest parts of my being, beyond words. I long for companions with whom to share this practice; will you join me, once in a while?
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Wait, wait, God, I'm not "perfect" yet!
Over the past several months, I have been sensing God nudging me to do the footwork toward making spiritual direction, retreat design/leadership, and education a much bigger focus of my time and energy. I have been following this call for almost 30 years now, and it has been an amazing journey, with so many providential opportunities and connections, I can't even count them. Thank you, God!
But now that it is time to go out and offer these gifts to leaders and other spiritual directors and organizations, I keep balking and discovering in me fears and pride and my image of what it means to be "made in the image of God" (and I'm not there yet!). And the thought of asking people for donations so that I may remain available for this ministry (because otherwise I need to look for another job....), has been really scary! (I'm still wrestling with that one!) And what if--people don't like me, judge me because of ways I don't fit the socially-acceptable standards of appearance, don't want what I have to offer, reject me? What if?
So, do I really believe I am called, equipped, and being sent out to accompany others on their spiritual journeys? Do I really believe that all the gifts God has given me have value for others and that "my deep gladness [can meet] the world's deep hunger"? (Frederick Buechner, in Wishful Thinking) Do I really believe that "if we have sown spiritual good among you, is it too much if we reap your material benefits" (I Cor 9:11, a verse I have not thought of or read for many years until this moment!)?
My passion for growing spiritually (through prayer, reading, writing, studying) has always had as its purpose the deep call I sensed to walk with others as they seek their own growth. And I have always believed that "to each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good" (I Cor 12:7) So I am making the calls and showing up for the meetings and each time, I sense that I am where God wants me to be in that moment--and the people I am meeting with seem to feel the same way, as they are responding to me with grace and openness. I give thanks for each one, how much you are blessing me!
Several years ago, I was fussing at God over some trait in me that I could just not seem to change, and I heard, deep within me, very gently and with a sense that I was being lovingly laughed at, "You know, it's my job to create people in my image." And I've been doing a lot of work in the past couple of years around accepting that I am not perfect, never will be, and in fact was not created to be perfect (as the world defines it). (In particular, Brene Brown's The Gifts of Imperfection was tremendously helpful with that.) So today and tomorrow and every day I will seek God's guidance and follow it boldly and prayerfully.
What's holding YOU back from being all that God is creating you to be? I'd love to hear from you!
But now that it is time to go out and offer these gifts to leaders and other spiritual directors and organizations, I keep balking and discovering in me fears and pride and my image of what it means to be "made in the image of God" (and I'm not there yet!). And the thought of asking people for donations so that I may remain available for this ministry (because otherwise I need to look for another job....), has been really scary! (I'm still wrestling with that one!) And what if--people don't like me, judge me because of ways I don't fit the socially-acceptable standards of appearance, don't want what I have to offer, reject me? What if?
So, do I really believe I am called, equipped, and being sent out to accompany others on their spiritual journeys? Do I really believe that all the gifts God has given me have value for others and that "my deep gladness [can meet] the world's deep hunger"? (Frederick Buechner, in Wishful Thinking) Do I really believe that "if we have sown spiritual good among you, is it too much if we reap your material benefits" (I Cor 9:11, a verse I have not thought of or read for many years until this moment!)?
My passion for growing spiritually (through prayer, reading, writing, studying) has always had as its purpose the deep call I sensed to walk with others as they seek their own growth. And I have always believed that "to each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good" (I Cor 12:7) So I am making the calls and showing up for the meetings and each time, I sense that I am where God wants me to be in that moment--and the people I am meeting with seem to feel the same way, as they are responding to me with grace and openness. I give thanks for each one, how much you are blessing me!
Several years ago, I was fussing at God over some trait in me that I could just not seem to change, and I heard, deep within me, very gently and with a sense that I was being lovingly laughed at, "You know, it's my job to create people in my image." And I've been doing a lot of work in the past couple of years around accepting that I am not perfect, never will be, and in fact was not created to be perfect (as the world defines it). (In particular, Brene Brown's The Gifts of Imperfection was tremendously helpful with that.) So today and tomorrow and every day I will seek God's guidance and follow it boldly and prayerfully.
What's holding YOU back from being all that God is creating you to be? I'd love to hear from you!
Monday, April 4, 2011
A Single Eye on God's Love
I have a very hard time sleeping--or rather, I have a hard time getting to sleep. I have been realizing lately that this may be due, in part, to how hard it is for me to let go of trying; as long as I am awake, I might, just might, reach that elusive moment where I am satisfied--with my self, with my life, in my body. In my heart I know this is completely unattainable, but my "monkey mind" keeps insisting if I try just a little harder, think a little more deeply, read just one more paragraph, even pray just a little harder, I WILL "get there."
Last night my "last paragraph" was in Richard Rohr's The Naked Eye: Seeing as the Mystics See. It's not as if I have never heard this before, but these sentences struck "home":
God does not love us because we are that good. God loves us because God is good. That changes everything. (p. 79)
You mean God loves me as imperfect, unfinished, fearful, anxious, as I know myself to be? You mean I don't have to EARN God's love?
Somehow (grace, maybe?) I heard this at a deeper level last night. And as I was going to sleep, I kept re-focusing on God's love. My body and my mind relaxed deeply, my restless heart resting in God. As I woke rested this morning, I continued this focus. I know I will have to let God draw me back, over and over, to that single focus on God's love through which all else shifts into divine balance. I know I am not capable of keeping that focus--but I don't have to be the one to make it happen.
Lord, help me focus my single eye on your love today, in all that I do (or don't do), trusting in your love as the ground of my being. Let all my choices today be made from knowing you love me as I am, as you are creating me to be, not as I try (and fail) to make myself in the image I have of the person who would earn your love. Into your care, Lord.
Last night my "last paragraph" was in Richard Rohr's The Naked Eye: Seeing as the Mystics See. It's not as if I have never heard this before, but these sentences struck "home":
God does not love us because we are that good. God loves us because God is good. That changes everything. (p. 79)
You mean God loves me as imperfect, unfinished, fearful, anxious, as I know myself to be? You mean I don't have to EARN God's love?
Somehow (grace, maybe?) I heard this at a deeper level last night. And as I was going to sleep, I kept re-focusing on God's love. My body and my mind relaxed deeply, my restless heart resting in God. As I woke rested this morning, I continued this focus. I know I will have to let God draw me back, over and over, to that single focus on God's love through which all else shifts into divine balance. I know I am not capable of keeping that focus--but I don't have to be the one to make it happen.
Lord, help me focus my single eye on your love today, in all that I do (or don't do), trusting in your love as the ground of my being. Let all my choices today be made from knowing you love me as I am, as you are creating me to be, not as I try (and fail) to make myself in the image I have of the person who would earn your love. Into your care, Lord.
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