Month: February 2020

You would think that I, as a Christian, would always love God and Jesus Christ, and would want to know Him and do His will. Intellectually speaking you’d be right, but in the manner that I actually live my life, and within my spirit—in my heart—this can often be something different.

I’m talking about something common to man (I believe) regardless of whether one is a Christian or not, or merely calls themselves one, or is actually something quite different: an atheist, a Buddhist, Hindu, Moslem, Jew, or something else, or none of the above.

Man is a body and a spirit. I believe this is true, and this fact is foundational and must be assumed in order to understand the rest of my argument. Even if one doesn’t know that they are spirit, and can’t find a way to experience this aspect of themselves, and believes that they are only body, this makes no difference to the truth that man is body and spirit.

In fact, those that might insist that they are only body—and deny that there is a spirit world, and a God who is spirit, through whom all things came into being—these illustrate the very thing that I am hoping to explain and convince the reader about: that the direction and manner that each of us move our own spirit, how we direct the deepest and innermost aspect of our being, is the primary thing that either draws us into closer relationship with God, or causes us to fall away and ultimately to lose sight entirely of all things spiritual, and to become blind to the existence of things beyond the physical realities.

The movement of our spirit is first, and any name we may call ourselves (Christian, Buddhist, atheist etc.) follows only after, and as a result of that specific movement. But what is this movement of the spirit that I am referring to, and how does it affect our daily life? It is the primal cause active within us, which results in our thoughts and feelings and how we respond to our environment. Often we only see cause and effect as it occurs on the physical level, but there is a more fundamental cause on the spiritual level, with more essential effects on how we interact with everything in our daily life. It can be very difficult to perceive this movement of our spirit within us, and it becomes more and more difficult the further we move in the direction away from God. Yet, as we draw closer to God it becomes clearer and easier to see.

If we are unable to perceive the movement of our spirit, we at least can see by our thoughts and feelings the deeper orientation of our spirit. An atheist, for instance will have no belief in God, and no interest in what he believes to be unreal; his thoughts and feelings are indifferent or perhaps even antagonistic towards the concept of God. How could he ever turn back in the direction of a God he doesn’t believe exists? In his or her case probably only by divine intervention can his spirit be turned back in the direction of God, and only by this divine grace will he discover new thoughts—an epiphany, a road to Damascus experience—in which his thoughts and feelings, as if by a miracle, flip and he is converted.

And what of a professing Christian, one who believes and seeks deeper relationship with God, yet maybe they have a weak relationship with God, or one that is basically cold, unfulfilled, or maybe even dead in a sense? They too may be unable to see the state of their spirit as it truly is—its true orientation—because it is hidden beneath the abundance of thoughts and feelings that they have, and the ideas of who they are, or how the ‘should’ be acting and feeling. If they can see their spirit as it moves within them they may see that it is moving without God, and even in opposition to Him. But if they can’t see this, they may be able to notice that their thoughts are not about God at all, but rather about many other things instead; and they may see that their feelings are cold and indifferent or even hostile to God, maybe angry with Him for some reason or another. These thoughts and feelings can show them the true orientation of their spirit, even if they can’t perceive it outright, and these thoughts and feelings give explanation for why they have no connection to the God whom they profess to love.

Because the spirit is difficult to discern, it is often easier to focus on the level of our thoughts and feelings, and maybe to decide that this is really the only realm to be concerned about, and possibly to imagine that this is the only place to focus our attention. It can be very helpful to address our thoughts and feelings, but it can be much more powerful if we are able to address the movement of our spirit. Turning our spirit in one direction or the other has much greater impact upon the course of our life. Like the turning of the rudder on a ship—where the movement in the moment is small and quick—but the change in direction over time can become monumental.

Similarly, the movement of the spirit within us is very fast, like lightning, but after it moves, in its wake thereafter grows a greater and greater impact on the direction of our life, and the flow of our thoughts, and the direction these thoughts will take us. I will share one example from my own life that may illustrate this phenomena, and hopefully I can describe it accurately.

A little over six months ago, in late July, I had been praying for a period of time. Typically I pray standing or sitting before my special place, where I have a number of crosses given to me by people whom I love, as well as some icons of Christ and various saints, and one or more oil lamps. As I was coming near the end of my prayer time I suddenly experienced a shift deep in my being. It was very quick and almost imperceptible to me but I felt it unfold on many levels, and in various ways within me: in one sense it felt like a magnetic change in polarity whereas the moment before I had felt myself pulled, in a sense, in the direction of my prayer nook towards the crosses etc. and then the next moment, I felt my being turning away and drawing back and away from my place of prayer; emotionally I experienced a feeling of anxiety and fear, or concern; and in my thoughts I considered that this was a significant change and something that I needed to take seriously, then I thought that I was overreacting and was making it up, then I thought it may not be serious at all and I laughed a little about it, and then I decided I should take it at least a little seriously and I tried mentally to recreate the experience I had previously enjoyed, but then discovered that I was unable to do so with my mind.

I ended my prayer and over the next couple weeks I didn’t notice much of a difference at first, but slowly my routine spiritual life and activities began to unravel. I continued to pray several times each day but had lost the focus and attention I previously enjoyed. I continued to attend church services, but lost interest in attending vespers and other services apart from the Liturgy on Sunday. I continued to read the Bible but my heart was not in it. Confession, which had been a weekly joy for me, I began to do less and less and I started to lose my understanding of its purpose and no longer felt the inner freedom that it had previously afforded me. I began to realize that the inner shift I had perceived back in July during that prayer session was beginning to take a significant and serious toll on my spiritual life. The problem though is that I couldn’t motivate myself to make a change, I was just losing interest in my spiritual life; and this progressed further over subsequent months so that I began to lose memory of my own first-hand experiences of God, so that I began to question these experiences, so that my thoughts about my spiritual life became more pessimistic, ironic and even sarcastic.

I was startled to see that I was becoming much more secular in my approach to life and losing the insight I had once had towards the spiritual life. And what was worse, I noticed that this didn’t bother me very much, it seemed to me at the time that whatever spiritual life I lost, I could easily replace with an equally absorbing, interesting and meaningful material life. I began to understand how it is very possible to become an atheist, or agnostic or just one who doesn’t think or care much about spiritual reality and truth.

But I wondered about what had happened to me, and why I couldn’t get back to where I had been in July. Fortunately, by the end of the year I discovered a deep reservoir within me of anger and blame towards God, and despair, all related to the terrible and awful facts of disease and death—the eventual loss of everything that we love, and finally the loss of our own lives. Only after struggling for some time with this, and finally coming to understand that God is not to blame for death, and that He actually is the only one who proclaims victory over death and offers us eternal life—only after coming to peace with God in this way, was I able to allow myself to shift again back in the direction of God, away from my flight into worldly and material oblivion. Though I had still wanted to be close to God during this entire time (at least in theory), I realized that it would be impossible to truly seek Him and truly draw near to Him in my spirit, if at the same time I am genuinely angry at Him and blaming Him for all my losses.  I don’t believe we can hate and truly love at the same time, we aren’t multitaskers in that way.

It has now been a couple months since I was first able to turn my spirit back in the direction of God, but my spiritual life is still far from what it had been back in July. Real damage happened in the interim, I truly went in the wrong direction and it appears that it will take time and God’s mercy to restore me. However, real healing is taking place and I can sense that my inner orientation is directed towards Him again and this is making a great deal of difference. The secular approach is lessening within me and the material world is becoming less opaque; I am beginning to experience and see spiritual life and reality once again. The subtlest movement of the spirit, which may be barely perceptible to us can have a great impact upon us and is something to be taken seriously; it is worth searching for and learning to direct in the Way that is truly best for us.

~FS

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A friend recently gave me a compliment, calling me fearless. He said, “You are completely fearless aren’t you? I think you are completely fearless.” I was startled by his assessment, embarrassed, and also afraid to let him down by telling the truth. My first impulse was to confirm his opinion, by saying something like, “Yes, you know, I guess I really am fearless…aw, shucks.” And, shamefully, I may have actually begun my reply with some similar sort of deceit; but then I caught myself and came clean, assuring him that: “No, I am not fearless.”

I regret the truth that I am not fearless; but still I was encouraged by the fact that he at least thinks I am, and his opinion of me, gave me a little boost of courage, I must admit. And it got me to thinking further about fearlessness, and the characteristics and source of this virtue.

It seems to me, and I’ve heard others say this as well, that it is less important to be without fear, than it is to be able to function properly while in the presence of fear, or in the face of it. We may not be able to eradicate our fear, but we are capable of overcoming it; we can take our fear out of the driver’s seat, and make it a mere passenger, along for the ride—perhaps occasionally giving us some sound advice from the back seat, but certainly no longer taking us for a ride.

I can’t imagine living a life in total absence of fear, however I can envision living a life so bound by fear that it is hardly living a life at all. In fact, I don’t have to imagine this; I’ve seen people destroyed by their fear: afraid of their inner pain, and driven by it into the arms of addictions, numbing themselves with all kinds of distractions. We can fear so many things: we fear being hurt, we fear being embarrassed, we have the fear of being cheated, or made the fool, the fear of unrequited love, fear of failing, fear of losing, fear of the dark, fear of other people, fear of our own inadequacies, fear of telling the truth, fear of being ourselves—and so many others—the fear of growing old, of loneliness, disability, and finally, the fear of dying.

Certainly fear has its place and some fears are helpful: fear may tell us not to swim with crocodiles, or not to thrust a fork into an electrical outlet, or that we should run out of a burning building. But many fears merely stand between us and the lives we desire—the lives we were created, and intended to live.

What is it that can help us transcend our fear; how can we bridge the gap between a life bound by fear/anxiety/worry and a potential life of living free from their tyranny? The fears that bind us are typically not instinctual fears, but rather deriving from our thoughts; therefore, one step to freedom from fear’s prison involves cultivating freedom from our thoughts. Learning to step into the stillness and the silence beyond, or beneath, our thought-world, is a big step towards freedom from fear’s tyranny.

Yet, to step into the silence and the stillness beyond our thoughts, requires courage and a measure of freedom right from the start. How do we find courage when we don’t feel courageous? Especially, how do we find the courage to step into our own inner world—that uncomfortable, possibly terrifying place where all of our monsters reside? I propose that the best, and most perfect, and most complete way is to look trustingly to our Heavenly Father, and more specifically to His Son, Jesus Christ—our Lord, our friend and brother, our guide—He can be our example, role-model and our source of courage.

Jesus, though God incarnate, was also fully human and apparently not without fear. The night before his death—before his murder—he prayed to His Father that this imminent outcome might be removed, but also that God’s will would be done, and an angel came and strengthened Him in his last difficult hours. Here we see prayer to God, and trust in God modeled for us, even in the face of fear or anguish, and then we see God providing comfort and assurance.

Many things may get in the way of our following in these same footsteps, (and knowing this same kind of freedom of action), and most of these things which may obstruct us are thoughts, all kinds of thoughts that we have, such as: God doesn’t exist, Jesus isn’t real, this won’t work for me, God doesn’t understand my problems which are far too complicated, I’m worthless, I can never forgive, I can’t face others, I won’t ever let others see me so weak etc.

I propose that none of these thoughts, nor any of the myriad others just like them, are worth what they give us, nor what they keep from us; they give us suffering and enslavement, and they keep us from love, inner freedom and peace.

“God is love, and he who abides in love abides in God, and God in him….There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear, because fear involves torment. But he who fears has not been made perfect in love.” (1 John 4:16, 18)

I think that we all should know God, we all should meet and develop relationship with Jesus Christ. I don’t say “should” here in the moral sense of right and wrong, but in the practical sense that relationship with God is the beginning of courage and freedom. If we learn love from the source of love, and experience love by seeking that perfect love which is Jesus Christ, and have Him as our standard of action, then we have a great opportunity to free ourselves from the confines of our own thinking (and feeling) and from enslavement to our fears.

Like a child learning to ride a bike, or learning how to swim, we can envision ourselves in this life-long endeavor of learning how to love. The little child looks to their teacher and trusts in that person, forgetting their own fear of falling or of sinking. We can look to Jesus, our teacher, forgetting our fears, and trusting in the way that He enlightens.

Learning to live free from the tyranny of fear, learning to love instead, is a foundational and essential task, I think, for a fulfilling, meaningful and healthy life. Whatever else we may do in life, whatever accomplishments and successes we may achieve, whatever legacy we may leave, none of it amounts to anything if we have not learned how to love as God loves.

Most of us have all sorts of thoughts and ideas about God; however, I believe, that most of what we think about Him actually gets in the way, and inhibits our knowing Him as He truly is. Just as fear keeps us from knowing ourselves and knowing each other, it also gets in the way of knowing God. Instead, we make up fantasies about ourselves, about each other, and certainly about God; making Jesus into who we want Him to be, rather than who He says He is, and who He actually is.

Scripture tells us that God is love; the Bible also gives us many lessons in this reality of love, with the most central lesson being, I think, what is known as the “Great Commandment” in which Jesus gives us the key to life, (freedom, peace, joy) and love: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the great and first commandment. And a second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” (Matthew 22: 37-39) This is the way to know God, and the more we will love like Him, the more we come to understand about Him, and the closer we will come into His presence.

Scripture also tells us that God is Spirit and can only be known in spirit. We often anthropomorphize God, making Him in the image of man, and then we reflect upon this misrepresentation, these caricatures that we’ve constructed of God; we argue against whatever straw-man we have raised in our own minds in place of the real God. But this does not change God, it only alienates man further from God. What could be worse and more tragic than alienation from the source of love, in whose image and likeness we are all made (as scripture also describes)? Seeking God in spirit is the antidote for our alienation.

I believe that prayer is the primary activity of our spirit; in particular prayer that seeks God beyond words, though our prayer might begin with words. The prayer that I find most effective in banishing fear, is a prayer that calls upon the name of Jesus, and which seeks the love of God; it begins with words which focus my mind on Christ, but then gradually sheds language, and dives into silence, seeking instead a deeper first-hand presence and experiential sharing. The words I often start with are, “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me” or “Come to my help, oh God. Lord Jesus hurry to my rescue” or I may pray to fulfill the great commandment, and focus all my mind, heart, soul and strength to this end; allowing God’s love to fill all aspects of my being, that I may be made anew in the likeness of love.

Prayer often begins in our spare moments, and then it can grow into our every moment; hopefully becoming the primary activity of our entire being. In time, we will find the stillness that exists behind the veil of our language, and this stillness we can carry with us throughout our daily life. This stillness which we carry within us, allows us to hear and manifest the word of God—the love of God—as we go about our daily life. With the presence of this love, palpable and real inside us, we can enjoy a real and tangible power; but it is a gentle and peaceful power which is able to resist fear’s tyranny, and any other of the things that would try to enslave us. Knowing God’s love is a power that makes us bold and courageous in the face of fear.

~FS