A Daily Examen for Living as an Antiracist Person

Photo Credit: fatboyke (Luc)

Last week, I had the privilege of retreating with a group of leaders from our church. We went to a mountain cabin in the cool pines of Arizona where an afternoon rain caused the temperature to plummet into the 60s. Coming from the desert environs of Phoenix where the summer lows might drop into the high 80s, it was a welcomed change.

As refreshing as the temperatures were, even more refreshing was the time spent in quiet reflection and prayerful listening. During a time of group sharing on the last day of our retreat, one of the leaders made a statement that I am still pondering. He said “I am learning to love God slowly.”

“Love God slowly!” As I heard these words, I immediately sensed that He was on to something and the awkward phrasing caused me to stop and reflect on what was meant. English is my friend’s second language which likely contributed to the unique expression, but he was doing his best to put his experience of God into words.

Several things have occurred to me as I continue to ponder my friend’s words:

1. Our command of a particular language can actually be a barrier to experiencing God. There is no way that words can contain God and certainly not our experience of Him. When we depend too heavily upon words to understand the gracious movements of God in our lives, we might just be limiting our understanding and simply settling for old categories or overly simplistic ideas that can no longer describe Him. There are times when we have an experience of love and/or awe and we say, “I don’t know how to put that into words.” Perhaps, there are times when we just need to sit with God and refrain from the attempt all together. Simply sitting in silence can be a reminder than God is bigger than our words and concepts and ideas. Interestingly, it was from a time of quiet, wordless reflection that my friend emerged with the phrase “love God slowly.”
2. Then, of course, the very idea of “loving God slowly” is so profound. We can’t love fast. We just can’t. It’s not possible. Speed keeps love from being deep and thorough. Love lingers and savors and enjoys. So, loving God slowly means that we stop and give ample time to listen and notice what is really going on. How much do I miss because I am simply too busy and too hurried to perceive? As a teenager, college student, and young married adult, I moved so fast and missed much in my surroundings. Living in the Phoenix area, I missed that there are mountains all around. The Phoenix Mountains Preserve (right in the middle of the city) is the largest city park in the United States, but I missed its beauty and grandeur. My wife and I moved away for 15 years and upon moving back in my forties, I’ve found myself thinking on more than one occasion, “Were those mountains there when we lived here before?” It is possible for there to be profound, amazing, beautiful realities right before our eyes and not see them. It requires moving slowly. As I learn to love God slowly, it means that I can see and experience His profound presence in my life in deepening ways.
3. There are certainly benefits to moving fast but do they outweigh the benefits of moving slowly? Teilhardde Chardin, the noted scientist and Jesuit mystic, said it well: “The physical structure of the universe is love.” If that is true, the going fast keeps me from love and therefore the very nature of the universe. God reveals Himself personally through the Holy Scriptures, through my intuition, and through His creation. I can miss all of this running too fast. The benefits of going fast are not only outweighed by loving slowly, they are obliterated.
4. As I considered further the concept of slow love, a verse from 1 Corinthians 13 kept coming to mind: “love is patient.” Of course, patience is most frequently thought of as a response to a negative circumstance. The object of my love is irritating, so I need to be patient. But, could this also speak of a more positive application of love? Love, in its very nature, is slow which leads to waiting through a tough situation but also means that I wait for intimacy to develop. I wait and am slow because the deepest realities of love and life and God won’t just jump out at us. Love is patient also in a very positive sense. In the Song of Solomon, there is a refrain that is threaded through the love song: “do not awaken love until it pleases.” The idea is that we wait for love to develop. Intimacy doesn’t happen in an instance. It is a vast reservoir that must be accessed and explored over time.
5. Finally, I thought about how often our concepts and experiences of God are frequently marked by platitudes and borrowed phrases. “God is good … all the time.” While certainly true, that phrase likely doesn’t come from a place of personal intimacy for many who utter it. Intimacy and depth of relationship produce nicknames and “pet phrases” that no one else knows. The words and concepts that emerge from intimacy are likely understood by no one else, or at the very least, they sound strange. I have nicknames and phrases for and with my wife that twenty-five years of marriage have produced. What seemingly awkward phrases do I share with God? What is His name for me? Revelation 2:17 indicates that God’s gives a new name (“a nickname”) that is only known by us as we walk faithfully (“slowly”?) with Him.

Ponder this idea of loving God slowly. What might that mean for you? How can you slowdown in order to walk in step with the very nature of the universe? Reflect upon one way you can love God slowly today.

Prayer: Father God, may I love you slowly. Give me the eyes to see you as I slow down and take notice of you … as I linger at your throne in prayer, not to gain anything but to enjoy what is already ours in relationship. You are so worthy of the best of my time. Thank you for loving me slowly and being patient with the process you’re continuing to graciously unfold in my life. Amen.

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Resource: An Unhurried Life, Alan Fadling

Several months ago, in a deep conversation with friends over dinner, it was said that “you can’t put God in a box, but he will always come get in our boxes with us.” As I listened and reflected on what was being suggested, I began to make all kinds of connections with the nature of God and how He works in our lives. The statement not only rang true, but I sensed that it was also a really important idea.

It has been said, “You can’t put God in a box.” Of course! We can’t control God or determine how He is going to act. He will not be bound. At the same time, the reality is that our tendency is to do just that … to put God in a box of our own making. The walls of the box are made up of our limited understanding, our preconceived (often unaware to us) ideas, our expectations, and our misunderstandings. No matter how “mature” we believe we are or how schooled we are in theology, we will always have these tendencies. In one sense, we will always put God in a box.

And the beautiful reality is that God will always come and be with us in our boxes. To pretend that we could ever not have a box is a function of pride rather than reality. The only hope we have for the walls of our boxes to come down is experiencing the presence of God right where we are … in the middle of the messiness of expectations and preconceived ideas and limited understandings.

We often come to the erroneous conclusion that until we have the right and correct beliefs about God, we are unable to interact with Him. The reality is God relentlessly pursues us. He is always the initiator and we are the responders in the relationship. He comes to us! God can never be defined or contained by our limited, incomplete thoughts and yet, He will come to us in our lack of knowledge.

We can also think that we have to have our “act together” to be able to interact with God. Margaret Silf, in her Inner Compass, shares:

“God comes to us not where we should have been if we had made all the right choices in life; not where we could have been if we had taken every opportunity that God has offered us; not where we wish we were if we didn’t have to be in the place where we find ourselves; not where we think we are because our minds are out of sync with our hearts; not where other people think we are or think we ought to be when they are attending to their own agendas. God meets us where we really are.”

If we understood everything about God, it quite possible that it would shock us and terrify us and cause us to run for the hills. His thoughts are not our thoughts and His ways are not our ways (Isaiah 55:8-9). If we were to see Him, we would die from being exposed to the depths of His holiness (Exodus 33:20). So, he shows up like a Trojan horse. We think we’re relating to Him on one level but He comes disguised. It’s the disguise we make for Him and He comes to slowly remove the disguise. He doesn’t come this way to deceive us but because He wants to be with us, even if we misunderstand Him for long periods of time. He comes and gently creates the tension required for our growth in knowing and relating to Him.

In Mark 10:35-45, we observe an amazing example of this kind of relating. Two of Jesus’ disciples come to Him with expectations and are shockingly honest about it. They say, “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.” That’s quite a statement but certainly reflective of what is often going on in our hearts. At face value, it’s a prideful request, assuming that the God of the universe will do their will, their bidding. What does Jesus do? He meets them in that place as He responds with “What do you want me to do for you?” He is meeting them in their box. I can imagine that the disciples were thinking, “Yes! Here we go … all of our desires are going to come true!” However, Jesus turns their request upside down by asking them to think deeper about what they were asking. He doesn’t refuse to interact with them or ignore them but meets them in their box and begins to dismantle their preconceived ideas.

He initiates and comes to us even when we think we’re in charge and calling the shots. It’s deeply humbling to think about the humility of God to condescend toward us. When you see it and appreciate the depths of His love, it can lead us into a new way of relating … a way that can progressively knock down our walls and usher us into deeper and deeper intimacy with God.

So, why does He do this? Why doesn’t He wait for us and demand that we have things figured out before He comes to us? Quite simply, He is more concerned about being with us than being right. He desires to know us and love us in the particulars of our lives. He would rather us have something of Him than nothing of Him. And, He longs for more. That’s why He will come and patiently work in our lives.  We are in our boxes and God meets us there. He expands the walls or even knocks them down as we experience God on His terms. It’s important to realize that He doesn’t come with expectations and demands, but with desire. When we begin to meet Him at this place, we see that our deepest desire is to do life with Him as well.

So, how do we respond? It begins with acknowledging that we have that tendency to put God in a box, and it moves forward in the following ways:

1. Engaging a posture of humility.

If God meets us where we are, then ask the question: “where am I?” Acknowledge that your perspective is limited and that much of life is mystery. Part of putting God in a box is arrogantly thinking that we know and the naïve, yet common, desire to control. We frequently think that if we “know,” we can control. Consider: what am I trying to control? What are things that I want to believe I know but don’t or can’t? Notice places where you feel anxious or angry or tense.  And then, “humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time he may exalt you, casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you.” (1 Peter 5:6-7) Anthony deMello suggests:

“The fact is that you are surrounded by God and yet you don’t see God, because you ‘know’ about Him. The final barrier to the vision of God is our God concept. You miss God because you think you know. That’s the terrible thing about religion. That’s what the Gospels were saying – that religious people ‘knew,’ so they got rid of Jesus. The highest knowledge of God is to know God as unknowable.”

2. Enacting the practice of letting go of expectations and preconceived ideas.

Here, we ask the question: “What are the expectations I have that I need to release?” Let me suggest three potential areas. First, we frequently come to God with a consumer mentality. We have a need and God can/should/will meet that need. We get trained to believe that every need should be fulfilled, yet Jesus says “blessed are the poor” (Matthew 5:3). It is our need that awakens us to true desire. When we can sit quietly and let go of “need,” we are in a place to relate to God as our King not simply as a genie who grants wishes. Second, we often come to God with an individualistic mentality. We define and look at life as though we are the center of universe. We can’t seem to help ourselves because it is so ingrained. Yet, we are encouraged over and over again to see “neighbor” as a fundamental part of our identity (“love your neighbor as yourself,” Matt 22). Ask God for His perspective of your neighbor so that you can let go of yours. Third, we come to God with a materialistic mindset. The material things of this world end up defining us and giving us a sense of meaning although we are encouraged that “life is more that food, and the body more than clothing” (Matt 6:25). A way that we can enact the practice of letting go is to sit with God in the nakedness of silence. Sit silently with God for 15-20 minutes (or more) and let go of each thought that enters your mind. Surrender each desire or compulsion to His care. It’s hard to do (at first) but it can become a way of life with God. The walls of our boxes are most often built by our own thoughts and preconceived ideas.

3. Enlivening your passion to do life with Him.

Finally, we think through: “who am I, at my core? Why am I alive?” He meets us with desire, a desire to know us and be with us and do life with us. The root underneath every command of Scripture is this desire of His. And, every desire of our hearts is, at its depths, this very same desire: to do life with Him. Remind yourself daily, perhaps moment by moment, that this is who you truly are. You are a longing for God.

Finally, be patient. As A.W. Tozer reminds us: “God never hurries. There are no deadlines against which he must work. Only to know this is to quiet our spirits and relax our nerves.” With that quietness of spirit, move toward humility, letting go, and just being with Him. As we are with Him in the mystery of His glory and grace, the walls of our boxes fall down and God becomes much bigger and more glorious than we could ever imagine.

We all experience pain in this life. No one emerges unscathed. We might wish and hope and pray not to experience pain, loss, and suffering, but this is our common lot. Also, common to humanity is the temptation to numb our pain.

Numbing our pain can come in a variety of ways, but it seems to be the normal way of “dealing” in our modern world. We numb with constant busyness. We numb with accumulating and consuming more and more. We numb with relationships and sexuality. We numb with substances. Anything that might seem to “take the pain away” is fair game. Perhaps, the most popular form of numbing is denial or ignoring pain. This might occur by itself or in conjunction with other numbing “strategies.”

Numbing our pain might sound like a great option, a preferable option. However, it comes with significant risk. First and foremost, we can’t shut down just a part of our heart. When we numb the pain, we also numb our ability to feel other things like joy and peace and delight. Second, Larry Crabb, in his book Shattered Dreams, suggests:

“People who learn to deaden their pain never discover their desire for God in all its fullness. They rather live for relief and become addicts to whatever provides it. Think with me about how this works. Inconsolable pain, the kind that drives away every vestige of happiness and renders us incapable of fully enjoying any pleasure, can be handled only by discovering a capacity for a different kind of joy. That is the function of pain, to carry us into the inner recesses of our being that wants God. We need to let soul-pain do its work by experiencing it fully.”

In addition, when we are numb, we can end up engaging in behaviors that are risky and/or sinful because we just want to feel alive. We want to feel something.

So, how do we “deal” with pain without going to numbing strategies? To put it simply, we have to be able to appreciate the importance of grieving and sadness as a normal, needed part of life. The problem is that we often believe that sadness and grief are realities to be avoided at all costs.

Henri Nouwen shares:

“Typically we see such hardship as an obstacle to what we think we should be – healthy, good-looking, free of discomfort. We consider suffering as annoying at best, meaningless at worst. We strive to get rid of our pains in whatever way we can. A part of us prefers the illusion that our losses are not real, that they come only as temporary interruptions. We thereby expend much energy in denial. ‘They should not prevent us from holding on to the real thing,’ we say to ourselves.”

Nouwen hints at something which is at the core of the problem: “what we should be.” When we hold expectations for how life should be, we will always run into disappointment and perhaps even shame. Shame is the feeling that there is something wrong with us. If we are grieving and/or sad, we may indeed come to believe that there is something inherently wrong with us.

Brene Brown makes just this point as she suggests that “we’ve lost our capacity to hold pain and discomfort” in our culture. She goes on to say: “There are two affects or emotions that people fear the most. Its shame and grief.” And, it would seem that these two compound one another.

The great reality is that the pathway to pure joy is through the darkness of pain and loss. Because of the deep mystery and complexity of life, we never know exactly why some things happen but we can know that God uses pain to draw us closer to Himself. If we let Him, He can take our pain and redeem it and reshape it. Larry Crabb comments: “Our generation has lost the concept of finding joy in unfulfilled desire. We no longer know what it means to hope. We want what we want now.” The very concept of unfulfilled desired may be anathema in our culture, but it is a wonderful teacher. Half a century ago, C. S. Lewis wrote: “If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world.”

The redemption and transformation of pain that comes when we know how to grieve can be summed up in the word “joy.” Joy is the deep sense that God is present and involved in our lives. When we numb ourselves to pain, we can lose that sense that God is present in our lives. In some ways, this might sound counter-intuitive. However, as we learn to grieve, we are thrust into a world that is larger than self. We learn to let go of our own perspectives and preferences. We learn to hope in God. We learn to be present for others in their pain and loss.

So, how do we stay with pain and engage in grieving in a way that we are not separating ourselves from what God might be doing? How do we learn to experience sadness in a way that is healthy and helpful to ourselves and others? Let me suggest four things:

1. Refuse to “numb out.”

Notice the temptation in yourself. What are the strategies you employ when experiencing pain or loss? Spend a few minutes in introspective prayer. (Psalm 139:23-24)

2. Rest in God’s presence.

We might want God to say, “I’ll take away all your pain.” But, He says, “I’ll be with you. I’ll sit with you in it.” We might want a magic bulletin for our pain, but there are no magic bullets. There is Presence. There is a God who says, “I’m am WITH you.” Make yourself aware and attentive to God’s presence. Where is God when you are suffering? He is with you. Make the recognition of His presence your focus. (Hebrews 13:5b)

3. Realize you are on a journey.

In Psalm 30:5, we are told that “weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning.” There is hope in the midst of all our pain. We frequently hold our pain like we hold a snapshot, focusing on the seemingly static, unmoving nature of things. Rather, hold your pain by seeing it as a part of movie.  Transformation happens when we sit with the pain in hope.

4. Relate to others who will sit with you in it.

Frequently, we isolate during pain. Perhaps, it is shame that motivates us. Perhaps, the unwitting comments of others that hurt more than help (e.g., “get over it” or “be brave” or “toughen up”). Surround yourself with trusted friends who are more interested in listening than fixing and/or giving advice.

Be assured: our pain will either be transformed or transmitted. Choosing to grieve and feel sadness can lead to transformation while ignoring our pain and numbing it will invariably lead to transmitting it to others. Henri Nouwen counsels:

“The voice of evil also tries to tempt us to put on an invincible front. Words such as vulnerability, letting go, surrendering, crying, mourning, and grief are not to be found in the devil’s dictionary. Someone once said to me, ‘Never show you weakness, for you will be used; never be vulnerable, for you will get hurt; never depend on others, for you will lose your freedom.’ This might sound very wise, but it does not echo the voice of wisdom. It mimics a world that wants us to respect without question the social boundaries and compulsions that society has defined for us.”