As we continue our journey through Lent, let us be open to grace.

Grace is a gift of the Divine. 

Because it comes to us at the Divine’s initiative, there are some things we can’t do about grace: 

We can’t earn it.

We can’t control it.

We don’t have to deserve it.

If grace is out of our hands, how do we receive grace? Accept that you are accepted.

Practice receiving. Receive objects, love, help and grace.

Notice when presents and presence come to you without your effort.

Offering hope: Is there life on this side of death?

As I began my morning routine, I reflected on the daily e-mail that appears in my inbox from Richard Rohr’s website. Today’s message was “Hope: What word of hope do we have to offer to the millions of people in the world who see no meaning in their lives?”

For most people in the world the question is not, “Is there a life on the other side of death?” It is, rather, “Is there life on this side of death?” Until we Christians give evidence that there is life on this side of death, the world has no reason to believe our dogmas or our giant churches. It doesn’t need our words of hell. It needs some evidence of heaven.

Powerful words that took me back to my days as a chaplain in a large hospital on the West Coast. As a student in Clinical Pastoral Education, I requested two patient populations to serve: oncology and substance abuse. My supervisor gave me the look that later would become quite familiar in our relationship – and asked me to reflect further on whether this might be a rather ambitious journey for a first assignment.

I recall my response was “no further reflection needed; this is my reason for being here.” My call and my journey were influenced by a friend who had died of cancer and my dad who had died from complications of alcoholism. The oncology unit of the hospital welcomed me with open arms. The approval process for a chaplain to provide services in the residential rehabilitation unit for patients suffering from substance abuse was rigorous. My first in a series of interviews was with the program’s executive director, a former Marine. He had a military posture and presence. I felt very small as I sat in the chair across from his desk.

His comfort level increased as we continued to meet and he understood my reason for requesting the assignment. He agreed to accept my services with the stipulation that I facilitate a weekly group session on spirituality in addition to the one-on-one services I had offered. The thought of a weekly group session terrified me but I found myself answering quickly in the affirmative.

I learned more in the group sessions than I had during my entire time in my master’s program in pastoral care. This was the real essence of pastoral care. I had some bright moments when I journeyed with people who sought meaning and purpose. I had some aha moments when the majority of the group walked out of the room, unable to sit quietly for a guided meditation. A post-reflection caused me to wonder – “what was I thinking?”

As I continued in the chaplaincy program, I found my experiences in both of these areas, oncology and rehabilitation, provided nourishment to each other. Many of my experiences with people nearing the end of their lives in oncology translated to the work in the weekly group sessions. Those in my group were interested in my work with patients at end of life and patients at end of life were very interested in the group work.

During the next few months, a number of people in the weekly group sessions signed up for one-on-one sessions. An African-American man named Henry, who was in his late 60s, joined me for a one-on-one session late on a Friday afternoon during Lent. He looked exhausted but his eyes still displayed an interest in life and the search for meaning and understanding. He shared his story of a life-long battle with drugs and alcohol that had started at a very young age. He looked out the window at intervals as if expecting to see someone or something.

When Henry finished his story, he looked me directly in the eye and reached for my hand. He referred to my work with patients in the oncology unit, those at end-of-life and asked a question that was really a statement on his part: “You worked with people with cancer who are afraid to die?” After I affirmed his statement, he said, “We’re not afraid to die; we’re afraid to live.” Henry was referring to himself and the many other people in the rehabilitation unit suffering from substance abuse and related illnesses.

It was a life-changing moment to hear the wisdom and pain that this man was able to share. Everything I learned in that moment and the moments that followed could not be summed up easily into words but it became part of the integration of my ministry in the months to follow. Whenever I am present with someone who is near death and who is afraid, I feel Henry’s presence.

I look back on Richard Rohr’s reading today “is there a life on the other side of death?” or is it “Is there life on this side of death?” While at times it may not appear so, both are questions that help us in our search for meaning and purpose.

In this contemplative exercise, you are invited to embark on an imaginary retreat. In this retreat, you have the chance to look more deeply into the whole distraction project and get a glimpse of the power of simplicity and aloneness. It is a reminder that we can view every meditation session as a mini-retreat, no matter where we are.

Part 1: External Distractions 

Imagine going to a small cabin in the woods, where you plan to spend some time alone. The cabin is simple with a bed, a chair and a small kitchen area. You bring some clothes, your bedding, food and water.

But there is a lot that you do not bring. You bring no clock or watch. You leave at home any books or reading material. You bring no paper or journal or anything to write with, no musical instruments. Staying at home are your laptop, desktop, home phone, cell phone, IPod, IPad, camera, recorder, radio, television, newspapers, magazines, appointment book, calendar – every bit of electronics.

As you unpack and settle in, you are aware of all that you left behind. This may feel refreshing or it may make you feel slightly uneasy.

Part 2: Internal Distractions

Here you are in your cabin, but now what? You wonder, shouldn’t I be doing something? Maybe I should do some meditation or contemplate something. Maybe I should go on a walk. The cabin could use a little cleaning and straightening; maybe I should clean it up. Might want to do some Yoga.

As you are figuring out what you want to do, you begin to notice not only what you left behind, but how much you have brought along with you. You realize how hard it is simply to just be, without a plan or agenda.

Part 3: Fear of Stopping

In your little cabin, not much is happening. You try to cook up something but you don’t have a lot of material to work with. Streams of thoughts, fantasies, and daydreams help.  Flood of memories provoke moods and emotions and trigger further streams of thoughts and reactions. You laugh, you cry. You begin to wonder what will happen if you can’t keep up this constant stream of thoughts and feelings. It is like a horror movie, you wonder: “What lies beneath?” You feel a bit of desperation in your attempts to prop up this pattern.

Part 4: Cutting Through to Simplicity

Over time, it becomes obvious that the fewer external distractions you have, the more internal distractions you cook up to replace them. The effort to keep this distraction-thing going wears you down. It is tiresome, but it is clear that you are doing this for a reason. You are using these distractions to avoid facing something scary but essential.

You realize that this gigantic, self-created cover up has kept you from facing what is most heartfelt, raw, and true about yourself. You see that when you’re less afraid, you disempower this pattern of continual distractedness. And you find that when you do so, you are capable of going about your life with greater ease and simplicity.

by Judy Lief

While I know myself as a creation of God, I am also obligated to realize and remember that everyone else and everything else are also God’s creation. Maya Angelou

The self speaks to us primarily through intuition. It is the language of the heart. The value of meditation and other spiritual practices that quiet the mind is that they make intuition more accessible. Most people need these practices to get over the hurdle of the dominance of the mind and into greater alignment with self.

Meditation, or any other activity that focuses the mind, causes the mind to become quiet because it keeps it busy with a task. Any activity that we are fully engaged in can serve as a meditation. When we focus all of our attention on something, the mind becomes quiet and serves us only when needed.

We tend to skim by on the surface of life, instead of diving into the moment and really experiencing it. The mind keeps us at a distance from the real experience and, instead, substitutes thoughts about the experience. It distances us from the present moment, where life is rich and alive. We can learn to be more present to the moment by just noticing what is going on. This is usually accomplished by taking our attention off of thoughts and putting it on whatever else is happening in the moment.

Gina Lake