"I Am, I See"

Sunday, March 16, 2014

Today's Gospel is one of my favorite of the Bible stories: the Transfiguration.  The reflection today is all about seeing and finally knowing the truth.  The question it poses is how and when we listen.

Years ago on this very Sunday in Lent, I gave a talk at a retreat on this theme -- I compared leaving the retreat to walking back down the mountain after all that you'd seen.

I've been really grateful, in my life of faith, that God has spoken to me so often through things that I happen upon or stories and shows that I have loved and devoured.  And I do devour stories -- I'm ravenous for them.  I've always been grateful that God was willing to speak to me through all of these far flung interests and random bits of wisdom floating through the world.  I've been touched by the grace of showing me the truth where I was searching already for something else.

But I have also recently been reminded how important it is to have a moment of quiet now and again -- to sit and give God time to sort through all the noise and talk to me in more than clever, hidden hints.  To let the noise in my head dissipate and realize why I am doing things and think through if it's right to be doing them.

To listen for that still, small voice that can lead me to God.  He speaks so often when I do take a moment in silence.  Perhaps because He knows that I will wander off again so soon.

People have often talked about my extreme focus when I am engaged in a task.  Truth be told, that's not  how it feels to me.  The experience of even my focused moments feels like I'm jumping about, and half of my work time is just trying to convince myself not to chase any of the rabbits down their holes but keep to what I am working on.  Even more so in my prayer life, where it can sometimes be hard to know when a train of thought is leading away from prayer since all things glorify God and all my troubles are things I would like to lay before God.

Even Peter couldn't stay easily focused on the Transfiguration and was already building temples in his head (and probably thinking which of Jesus's followers had the cash to fund them, who owned the land, etc.).  We don't have the focus we should.  So we need time in the quiet.

I don't believe in meditating, really.  I can imagine it is nice if you can do it -- really clear your mind of all your buzzing thoughts.  To me, it just seems like trying to shut everything down in the hopes of restarting it.  It's not relaxation that my mind needs -- it's drive and focus.  The trick is: that's easier in the quiet too.

It's something as small as this: I recently realized that by playing music while I was in the shower, I had deprived myself of the stable "quiet thinking time" in my daily life.  You know, that time I rarely cut out and always do -- whether it's deep thoughts, prayerful thinking, or just nonsense, I took that time to rest.  Now I'm listening to music.  It's not a big change, but I found myself grateful to have the quiet back.

It's easy to think it'd be boring and find some way -- any way -- to fill the quiet.  But I'm trying to learn, over this Lenten season, to leave it be.  To let there be quiet.