streams of grace, listless spirits, and where the heck is the Holy Spirit?
If I am being honest, I was a little let down by the Holy Spirit yesterday. I don't know. Just figured if He was going to make a big game move, yesterday would have been fitting.
And yet, today, right now, feels the same. And not only the same as yesterday, but according to last years journal I discovered, the same as last year. And the year before that. And the year before that.
Where was my strong, driving wind? Where was the filling up of the home and unity? Where were the tongues of fire? There the heck was the Holy Spirit?
I lingered for a while on the word "rest" yesterday. The flames, the Spirit, described as "and came to rest on each one of them." Isn't that so beautiful? I prayed to feel that. The flame, the Spirit, the rest.
I read this morning "your faith has to be stronger than your suffering, nobler than your sacrifice, and absolutely pure" (Father Peter Semenenko, C.R.) and I thought, "oh crap." And before that, I read, "enliven the listless spirits of believers who have lost their taste for prayer" and I thought, "that's me. A listless spirit." And even before that, I read, "Those who sink their roots into that stream of grace bear, like the tree, life-giving fruit in prayer and in deeds of kindness, justice, and mercy for all." And I don't know what I thought of that, but clearly something, because I wrote it down on the side of the page in my devotional. sink your roots in streams of grace...
"I do belief, help my unbelief" is an interesting confession and plea and a prayer I think I might need to make my own for today. I do believe....but not enough. I do believe...but not in this moment. I do believe...but for how long, Lord?
Do you ever get sick of believing?
And I write this all down as I stare at the knocked down tree outside of my window, as the kids are home from school, still, because of the uprooted oaks and pines blocking the roadways, and the destruction that followed that strong, driving wind that blew through our town last Tuesday. A wind that shook our windows and broke through rooftops and has left most of the town without power or water. A wind that did not bring us rest, unless you focus on the help of good neighbors, the cases of free water left on sidewalks, the kindness from strangers and smiles from faces unknown, the unusual compassion and grace that we dole out because "we get it" and "we are in this together" and so we are, simply put, nicer than usual. Until the lights go back on.
And good grief, but really....we wonder why there is suffering? We wonder why there is pain? When what we ought to be wondering is why on earth are we so much kinder when we enter into each others pain? Trust me...I hate suffering. I want to take that cup and throw it back at God's face. And yet, as I take each bitter sip, I recognize more and more the cups in your hands...the wound in your heart...your needs...not just mine....it is the "oh crap"moment when you recognize that hey, this Jesus might actually have a point...this suffering just might have a purpose....
And so it has not escaped my own mind that just about everything I say on day 6 of kids home with nothing to do sounds like a contradiction. I believe, but I don't. There was no driving wind, but there was. There is no rest....but only if you choose to see it that way. Take this cup from me Lord...but hang on, let me have one more sip....And as I gather dead trees and broken down branches I think it is time I find myself a stream upon this dry land, a tree full of sap, leaves that are green, and the belief that this old tree can still bear good fruit; that this listless spirit of mine can be enlivened and watered by a Spirit I may not hear, feel or see, but one that I refuse to believe is not here.
"O God, send me your Spirit to teach me what I am and what you are." (Saint John Vianney)
