Thursday 1 August 2013

An uneasy surrender

I've been trying to pray the "thy will be done" bit of the Our Father. It's a bit countercultural for a woman with a determined, independant, on my own two feet kind of approach to life. I do however want, with my whole heart, to fulfill my life as given and I think the man upstairs is the one with the map. So, I'm moving from saying it to praying it.

I think it's fleshed out pretty well by St. Ignatius's suspice:
Take, Lord, and receive all my liberty, 
my memory, my understanding
and my entire will,
All I have and call my own.
 
You have given all to me.
To you, Lord, I return it.
 
Everything is yours; do with it what you will.
Give me only your love and your grace.
That is enough for me.

Another gem from Joyce Rupp captures the challenge...
Dear God,
why do I keep fighting you off?
One part of me wants you desperately,
another part of me unknowingly
pushes you back and runs away.
What is there in me that
so contradicts my desire for you?
These transition days, these passage ways,
are calling me to let go of old securities,
to give myself over into your hands.
Like Jesus who struggled with the pain
I, too, fight the "let it all be done."
Loneliness, lostness, non-belonging,
all these hurts strike out at me,
leaving me pained with this present goodbye.
I want to be more but I fight the growing.
I want to be new but I hang unto the old.
I want to live but I won't face the dying.
I want to be whole but cannot bear
to gather up the pieces into one.
Is it that I refuse to be out of control,
to let the tears take their humbling journey,
to allow my spirit to feel its depression,
to stay with the insecurity of "no home"?
Now is the time. You call to me,
begging me to let you have my life,
inviting me to taste the darkness
so I can be filled with the light,
allowing me to lose my direction
so that I will find my way home to you.

Clinging to what holds me back

At spiritual direction some months ago, I was expressing frustration at knowing it was time to move but not knowing what direction to go in. I was challenged not to use the unknown as an excuse for clinging on to that which holds me back. 

A few years back, I was on a development programme and recall speaking about "letting myself of the hook" for dwelling in hurt for too long. I recognised then too that it was time to take the next step. I also recall a moment at the end of a relationship where I chose not to look back. Only recently did I realise that at that moment, I physically acknowledged that I had moved on. I didn't take the cue to also let go.

Joyce Rupp says, "When we learn how to say goodbye we truly learn how to say to ourselves and others: 'Go, God be with you. I entrust you to God. The God of strength, courage, comfort, hope, love, is with you. The God who promises to wipe away all tears will hold you close and will fill your emptiness. Let go and be free to move on.'"

On a recent pilgrimage I was asked by another pilgrim for tips. I said "Trust the Way". In clinging to that which holds me back,  I am refusing to trust what brings me forward. On that same pilgrimage I walked for a day with pebbles representing challenges in my life. I prayed with them and laid them down. A few hours in, I realised that I hadn't picked up a pebble for a particular challenge which dominated my consciousness and behaviour for years. It was hugely liberating to realise that I was no longer holding it so tightly. It is not that the behaviour has disappeared but not clinging to it so deeply as part of who I am, is a huge relief and indeed cause for celebration. For me it signifies that  I will stop letting it define me or allow it to prevent me from realising my potential. I had been waiting for the strength and capacity to resolve the difficulty before allowing myself to be best self. Now I feel that in moving on I can regain my sense of who I am meant to be and this challenge will either be something I bring with me or something I gain the strength to overcome along the way. It is not, however and thank God, who I am.

Like forgiveness, it is not something I can do myself. It is a grace I must ask for. I do this every day and yet at some point fall back into old destructive behaviours, feel failure and guilt, comfort myself with worldly things. And it is hard not to get down about this. So I pray to see myself as God does, a beloved child. 

In his book, the Inner Voice of love Nouwen says, "Trust the inner voice". He asks, 'Do you really want to be converted? Are you willing to be transformed? Or do you keep clutching your old ways of life with one hand while with the other you beg people to help you change?
Conversion is certainly not something you can bring about yourself. It is not a question of will-power. You have to trust the inner voice that shows the way. You know that inner voice. You turn to it often. But after you have heard with clarity what you are asked to do, you start raising questions, fabricating objections, and seeking everyone else’s opinion. Thus you become entangled in countless often contradictory thoughts, feelings, and ideas and lose touch with the God in you. And you end up dependent on all the people you have gathered around you. Only by attending constantly to the inner voice can you be converted to a new life of freedom and joy.'

I guess I'm now at the stage where I hear that voice as one of love and encouragement. I still often behave to the contrary, like a petulant child but on every single momentary occasion when I do listen, I thank God for the support and guidance. It's a step.