The Need That Can’t Be Met

We all have spiritual needs. We may not want to admit that, or think that, or contemplate that but nonetheless, these are very real, vital needs. They are life saving, life sustaining and maybe life creating.

I have recently realized that I have had a wide variety of spiritual needs in the past. In ministry, I have traveled with, been the tour guide, the tourist and the lamp post on the corner in trying to assist others in finding, naming and meeting spiritual needs, not to mention my own.

In ministry I share with many others in having a rather large suitcase to journey along with spiritual needs. I feel a little like a carpet bagger of old, displaying my used and recycled wares from and for my journey, your journey. The older I get, the more things I acquire. I think I may as well open a corner store right before you head into a camping vacation of a lifetime. I wonder what that would sound like …..

“Here, try this walking stick, cane, pole, staff, whatever – it’s called different things depending on how you use it, I guess; … it’s been many places; some folks have used it to hike, some really rowdy folks might poke people with it, some folks need to lean on it because of weakness and others use it to go as an accessory to go with their pointy church hat on special occasions…”

“How about a book? I’ve got many maps for your journey and collections of travel stories all put together in one volume … I call it a ‘Bible’, others call it holy, or useless, or perfect, or even Godself writing a very long letter just for you… Lots of people use it, or well, they get one at the tourist shop on the way. Some say it will take you right along The Way, some say it’s just too confusing and they need a guide instead. Or both.”

“You’ll need something to carry your water in; you won’t last a day without it. Most of the planet is made of the stuff; you can drink some here and there and other places, avoid it altogether. Your water may become wine so keep an eye on it. You wouldn’t want to wash your face with that! Your water may be a way to quench your thirst, or clear a tickle in your throat. Or it may be especially clean spring water, some will even bathe each other in it. In fact, some get so excited about it, calling it something special, making it personal or out in front of everyone. They’ll dabble some on a baby’s head and make a big deal out of it, or they’ll splash around in it when they’re kids and it shows up in the rain. Good stuff. You can’t hold it in your hands very long though, it will all be gone. And when it’s gone, there’s nothing you can do but wait for more to come. You can’t make the stuff.”

“And don’t forget to get something to nibble on while you’re journeying. You’ll need it. Bread’s usually pretty good for that. Some bread is white, light, seeded, course, brown, black, even. They’ll call it ‘the staff of life’, which is sort of silly, being as I already mentioned the staff up there with the cane & walking stick. And get this: some will say that the real bread is God’s body. I know. Sort of hard to imagine. We usually share it with others along the way … make a real special get together with it, and someone brings wine and then, maybe that’s the way to fill that need. Some folks are okay with that alone. Many folks need more.”

So I sit in the corner stand, greeting people as they go on their Way. Sometimes all they want is to hear how I got here, but usually they don’t want to hear it as much as I want to tell it. Sometimes I get to greet groups of people … the kids are my favorite. They’ll walk right up to that odd black shirt with a really tight wrap-around-choking-you-white-collar and play dress up. Funny thing about that though, is that some folks will only call them “father” when they put it on.” Doesn’t make a whole lot of sense really.

Meeting those spiritual needs, the ones that can’t be met, is the great irony of faith, I guess. That just recently dawned on me. Try as I may with books and water and journeys and bread, they never meet that need.

So while many of us have these huge collections of things we use to meet spiritual needs (typically our own, unless we’re in ministry and we deceive ourselves into thinking we obtain this stuff to help others) we really use them to pat ourselves on our backs – we, I can’t say “we”, I can only speak for myself … I collect this stuff and sometimes I’ll look it over and think it proves how spiritual I am, until that day comes when I have to box it all back up again and carry it many more miles, because i think I have this stuff for my spiritual “needs”.

And the “stuff” doesn’t meet a spiritual need. Even prayer, I’m thinking, doesn’t meet the need either. Because the bottom line is that nothing WE do meets that need. We have to stop trying to meet our spiritual needs ourselves. We are not capable. Only God is can do that.

Let go.

 

 

 

 

 

Gray Night of the Soul?

Praying in the Dark
I miss the days of adolescence when I was able to leave the house, unknown to my parents and go outside, in our ten acres of pine trees, and pray toward the sky. I would choose any group of three stars and believe they represented the Trinity. On retreats in adulthood, often held in rural areas, the night sky draws me all the same. When there happens to be a moon in the sky, that, I believe, is the face of God. It is a holy prayer in the darkness.
I now live deep within the city, without so much as a yard to wander in during the night, in silent contemplation. It was only recently that I realized, upon checking to see if it were raining, that I realized there was not much darkness in the night. I capture sunrises and sunset and cloud formations as I go about my coming in and going out. I have, without noticing, transferred my God-in-the-moon to God-in-the-clouds.
How that is deeply metaphorical is in this:
“Even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is as bright as the day, for darkness is as light to you”. Psalms 139:12
My darkness in the city, like my darkness in my spirit, is no longer the darkest dark. It is void of stars among the city lights. It is gray. It is pregnant with light behind it; it is in the rising sun hidden behind a group of clouds at daybreak, when the sun will rise above and burn the clouds away.
The night is not as dark as my melancholy spirit on an average day. It is not as dark at my present address than it was in my pines of adolescence. It is gray.
Gray is a combination of black and white, of day and night.
Gray is exactly where my spirit meets the Holy Spirit; or better, where my spirit meets the Holy Spirit given to me. The “darkness is not dark to You”. It’s not as dark to me, either.
When I long for the darkness of ages past, I am longing for a greater contrast in my spirit; I am longing to see the difference between the light and dark, ensuring myself of the presence of light; a process in my unique spirit.
Ergo, is my “dark night of the soul” now gray? And in that all encompassing grayness has not my spirit surrendered to the “Cloud of Unknowing”? Have I truly finally surrendered that my prayers, my connection to the God of all creation, now is a process in the way of the saints that is incomprehensible? And shouldn’t prayer BE incomprehensible, if in it, we indeed surrender completely?

10 January 2017