A reflection from E.C.:
In my teens, a dear atheist friend helped me make a quantum leap in my relationship with God. He and I were among the top students in our class, and he couldn’t understand how a brainy person like me could believe in God.
Our talks ranged over many days, as we walked among the trees on campus, or sat in the library to study, or found a spot at the wooden tables in the dining hall. “Why do you believe? There’s no logic in…” and he’d insert his images of religion one by one.
As I pondered his questions, non-essentials peeled away. I saw that I didn’t believe because I was supposed to. Nor because I thought it would get me to Heaven. Nor because I thought Jesus was still alive somehow. In fact, it wasn’t “belief” at all.
I knew there was God, just as I knew the warmth of the sun or my mother’s love.
I told my friend, “I believe in God because when I pray, something happens, something opens in my heart.”
Something vast, beyond words, is there when I get quiet. Settling into that loving Presence, as fluttering thoughts calm, I understand why God is described in so many ways. I experience comfort, counsel, wisdom, peace. Even humor! Sometimes what arises is guidance; sometimes it is peace in not-knowing.
The words of some Biblical writers evoke that Presence. And some Biblical writers (sometimes the same ones) wrote words that are not life-giving, at least not in that moment for me, so I let those words go. I pick and choose as I read. I do the same with scriptures from other faiths, too – after all, even the caring questions of an atheist can lead us towards the Divine.
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Practice and Reflection:
Were you able to set aside a quiet moment this week to notice your breathing? To pay gentle attention to your muscles and joints, nerves and blood flow? If not, maybe you can do this today. Where is there tension? Where is there freedom? Where is there pain or tenderness or tiredness? Where is there energy?
And have you found yourself “wrestling with the Divine”? Do you bring a particular question, lament, demand, or commitment to the struggle? Can you feel it in your body? In the wholeness of your being? Can you relate with McCaulley’s posture of refusing to let go until there is a blessing? Or do you wonder whether there is even a blessing to be had?