Our church is doing a sermon series called Why Worship . In previous weeks, we covered sacraments and proclamation/prophecy; last week, we looked
at liturgy, which means the work of
the people—not the work the
pastor. We were reminded that worship
requires the participation of the whole
community. There is an order of worship we follow. Each time we gather together, we do things
in a certain sequence intended to help lead us into God’s Presence—and then
back out into the world carrying that Presence with us. These rituals
are meant to bond us to meaning. If we
aren’t “getting anything out of” certain parts of the worship service, we may
need to remind ourselves why we do what we do.
In her message, the pastor reminded us there are two types of time: chronos and kairos. Chronos is “our time”, the kind of time we
keep on our watches and schedule-apps; kairos,
on the other hand, is “God’s time”, or eternal time. It is the "right" or "opportune" moment for us to encounter God.
We
live our days in chronos time but as people created in God’s image, we are created to seek and experience kairos moments.
When we gather to
worship as a community, we intentionally choose to give God some of our
chronos, which we can control, in hopes of experiencing kairos, which we
cannot.
The liturgy we use in our
worship services provide means that create space for those kairos moments to happen. They are regular routines that followers of
God have used for centuries to point themselves toward the Divine, sort of analogous
to how a trellis helps to guide the growth of a tender plant.
The pastor also briefly touched on how we need order in our own personal lives.
Although it wasn’t her focus, that was the part that resonated with me the most this
week. I have found myself in recent days
feeling somewhat overwhelmed by the busyness of my life. (How many can relate?) We did a round of
spring-cleaning in our house recently.
We literally restored some order in our home—which felt really good after it was done! But
what I am seeking goes deeper than just cleaning up my physical home—I need to
reorder my spiritual home.
I often say I need to find balance. The reasoning goes
that if I can just get the right ratio of activities, then I can do it
all. Seeking balance isn’t bad per se;
the problem is that it tends to be self-focused. I am trying to manage all the various “hats”
I must where: spouse, parent, employee, church member, etc., and do them all
well, so that life is easier and more convenient for me. Also, when we seek balance, the sectors of
life tend to get compartmentalized. Spiritual
life becomes just one of the compartments—when it should encompass all of the
others. Even if I manage to balance all
the activities, where does that leave me?
Tired most likely! But am I
really any more certain about where I am headed? Probably not.
I am fairly convinced that writing and storytelling are part
of my calling; I've known that for a while. In some ways, I already
do these things. I am a writer, editor,
and “storyteller” for NASA. Likewise,
I’ve written many spiritual essays similar to the one you are reading right now
over the past decade or so, and published them online and/or in print. I’ve also tried my hand in more recent years at
creative nonfiction writing, taking several online courses, and producing some "really good first drafts". All of these are partial expressions of who I
am, but none of them are the complete picture.
I am fairly certain there is “more” I am meant to do, but struggling to
discover it—and do it.
I think the “next step” involves a grand synthesis bringing
together the writing I have done to date: a spiritual
memoir perhaps? A fuzzy vision
emerges of what might be, but it quickly vanishes in the fog of uncertainty
that seems to surround my life. Besides, having the time and energy to
seriously pursue writing just doesn’t seem practical at this stage of my life. I get discouraged and dismiss it as
impossible.
I think the spiritual progress that I seek toward
living more fully into my calling requires more than balance. To get back on track toward the “bigger
picture” that God sees for me, I need a firm sense of direction—I need order.
I was reminded this week of a time-honored spiritual
practice that can help me if I would choose to pursue it. It’s called a rule of life[1].
In light of our discussion of the role liturgy
in worship, we might think of this practice as liturgy for living. For
centuries, these “rules” provided frameworks
(like the trellis) that have helped followers of Jesus more intentionally pursue
personal rhythms and guidelines that draw them closer to God and one another[2]. Developing a personal rule requires taking an honest inventory of who we are and
what we really desire in life and then coming up with a rule (or if you prefer, a rhythm)
that works for us.
For example, if I really want to move forward as a writer,
it likely won’t “just happen”; I will need to make a plan. That is, I need to be clear about my goal,
and then decide what specific and
intentional actions I will take in the next month, year, etc., to move toward
that goal. For some reason, I resist
making such plans like the plague. Why?
It’s a complicated answer but I think it’s because once I make a plan it
has the potential of failing, and I hate failure so much that I resist even
starting. I figure I will just wait for
the memoir to “just happen” and if it doesn’t it must not have been “meant to
be”.
But I have come to believe that “meant to be” is a joint endeavor between us and God. Until I am willing to do my part, my dream is likely to remain elusive—and I am likely to remain frustrated.
But I have come to believe that “meant to be” is a joint endeavor between us and God. Until I am willing to do my part, my dream is likely to remain elusive—and I am likely to remain frustrated.
The liturgy that shapes your life will be different from
mine. It will be as unique as the
individual God has created you to be, but as Christ followers there will be
common themes that weave together, harmonies that join to make beautiful music.
God’s hopeful and compelling vision of the Kingdom
of God will begin to (re)order our hearts (Proverbs 4:23) and provide the impetus we need to overcome our
human tendency toward self-centeredness and motivate us to take action toward
the noble pursuit of loving God and loving our neighbors as we work together
toward the common good of creation.
[1] Two excellent resources are the section on “Rule of
Life” in the Spiritual Disciplines
Handbook: Practices that Transform Us, by Adele Calhoun, pp. 35–39, and “A
Well Ordered Heart,” Chapter 12 of The
Life You’ve Always Wanted: Spiritual Disciplines for Ordinary People, by
John Ortberg. Ortberg discusses the
difference between balance and order in more detail.
[2] An example of an ancient rule of life still in use today is the Rule of St. Benedict.
No comments:
Post a Comment