February 26, 2009

On the Journey

                            Knocking on the door, waiting for it to open . . .

              Jesus began to lead me down a strange new path on my spiritual journey about six years ago. For some time, in the midst of my prayers, I had encountered a presence that invited me to enter new depths of prayer. It was as if, in prayer, I came to a doorway, but I was afraid to knock on the door or to open it. Many times, I made my way to that door, but I did not pass through it.

              Realizing that there was a path before me to explore, I began to read books on prayer. I read and learned much about prayer. Yet, my growing knowledge did not deepen my experience of God’s presence in prayer.

              I soon came to realize that my knowledge of prayer had inherent limitations. If I was going to find the courage to pass through that door, I would have to practice praying. This I have sought to do over the past several years. I have taken seriously the encouragement of Jesus, “Ask, and it will be given you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened to you.”  So, with much fear, I began to knock on that door I found on prayer.

              As I have sought to enter into these new depths of prayer, I have continued to read. I have read the works of the desert fathers. These desert fathers were believers of the third through the seventh century who sought to discover the meaning of the phrase, “pray without ceasing,” and then devoted themselves to prayer. The fathers impressed me, for they insisted that prayer is our first act of obedience. Through disciplined prayer, a believer comes to love God, neighbor, and self. Confession of sins rests at the very heart of prayer for the fathers. Indeed, they believe a honest confession brings tears.

              With their encouragement, I have sought to confess my sins openly in prayer. I have learned how truly timid I am when it comes to acknowledging my sins. This call to confession and my resistance was driven home to me while I was reading a book entitled, The Way of a Pilgrim. This is a devotional classic in the Orthodox tradition from Russia.

This little book begins with these words, “By the grace of God I am a Christian, by my deeds a great sinner, and by my calling a homeless wanderer of humblest origin, roaming from place to place.” While on his journey, the pilgrim meets a priest who accuses him of not knowing what it means to confess that he does not love God, or his neighbor.

The priest offers him a treatise with four readings. This week I offer you the first, as I explore with you this call to confess the limits of our love for God—

I do not love God. For if I loved Him, then I would be constantly thinking of Him with heartfelt satisfaction; every thought of God would fill me with joy and delight. On the contrary, I think more and with greater eagerness about worldly things, while thoughts of God present difficulty and aridity. If I loved Him, then my prayerful communion with Him would nourish, delight, and lead me to uninterrupted union with Him. But on the contrary, not only do I not find my delight in prayer but I find it difficult to pray; I struggle unwillingly, I am weakened by slothfulness and am most willing to do anything insignificant only to shorten or end my prayer. In useless occupations I pay no attention to time; but when I am thinking of God, when I place myself in His presence, every hour seems like a year. When a person loves another, he spends the entire day unceasingly thinking about his beloved, imagining being with him, and worrying about him; no matter what he is occupied with, the beloved does not leave his thoughts. And I in the course of the day barely take one hour to immerse myself deeply in meditation about God and enkindle within myself love for Him, but for twenty-three hours with eagerness I bring fervent sacrifices to the idols of my passions! I greatly enjoy conversations about vain subjects which degrade the spirit, but in conversations about God I am dry, bored, and lazy. And if unwillingly I am drawn into conversation about spiritual matters, I quickly change the subject to something which flatters my passions. I have avid curiosity about secular news and political events; I seek satisfaction for my love of knowledge in worldly studies, in science, art, and methods of acquiring possessions. But the study of the law of the Lord, knowledge of God, and religion does not impress me, does not nourish my soul. I judge this to be an unessential activity of a Christian, a rather supplementary subject with which I should occupy myself in my leisure time. In short, if love of God can be recognized by the keeping of His commandments—“If anyone loves me he will keep my word,” says the Lord Jesus Christ (John 14:23), and I not only do not keep his commandments but I make no attempt to do so—then in very truth I should conclude that I do not love God. St. Basil the Great confirms this when he says, “The evidence that man does not love God and His Christ is that he does not keep His commandments.”[The Way of a Pilgrim, Translated by Helen Bacovcin]

              I am convicted by these words, and perhaps you are too. If we seek to follow Jesus, conviction will inspire confession. Confession brings forgiveness. Freedom flows from forgiveness. With the knowledge of God’s gracious and freeing forgivenes, I continue to knock on that door. I have no doubt that one day Jesus will swing the door wide open, and I will experience fully what I have merely sensed. Until that day, I pray and I seek to pray without ceasing. I invite you to stand with me knocking on the door by practicing the discipline of confession as our first act of discipleship every day. Blessings.jamie