The Three Quiets

From the time I first became a Christian, I had people telling me about the important of a quiet time – a daily and regular time of study and prayer. The best time of day, most suggested, was the early morning, before the day began, before all the pressures of daily life crowded in.

Some suggested using a devotional guide, and some the Bible. Some said you have a short prayer first, then a study time, then a longer time of prayer. Others reversed the order. Some said you should have a cup of coffee, and others said you should wait until the quiet time was over before making the coffee. Some even suggested that you could mentally extend the quiet time until you were almost in a state of continual prayer throughout the day.

I’ve tried them all, and they all work. Or they don’t. What may matter less is the process, and what may matter more is the doing it.

In The Hidden Life of Prayer: The Life-Blood of the Christian, David McIntyre amplified this idea of a quiet time, to include more than just a regular hour. He describes three aspects of a quiet prayer time, and in a way I didn’t expect. I call them “the three quiets.”

First, he says, you need a quiet place, away from distractions. Even though the book was first published in 1891, McIntyre recognized all of the kinds of things that can distract from a quiet time – and how where you have a quiet time was of crucial importance. Some people might not be able to find one readily at hand, and he suggests some imaginative improvisation if that’s what’s needed.

Second is the one we’re most familiar with – a quiet hour, a regular time of the day when you can be alone in prayer. Actually, he suggests twice a day – morning and evening.

And third, McIntyre says, is a quiet heart – likely the most truly difficult to realize. He suggests what he calls three “simple facts of faith,” to keep one’s mind focused on God: recognize our acceptance by God because Jesus died on the cross; confess and receive the enabling grace of the spirit; and direct our hearts to Scripture, to read it “as in the presence of God” to calm our mind.

The quiet time and its associated quiet place and quiet heart are a practice, a kind of spiritual discipline. The best time for me is the early morning; the best place is usually a chair that’s not too comfortable. And often the best way for me to quiet my mind and heart (with a mind still trying to figure out why I’m not still in bed) is to read the beginning of the Gospel of John, a psalm, or I Peter. Yes, I know Peter was writing to Christians likely experiencing persecution, but I find his words very calming, like “a light shining in a dark place.”

Do you have a regular quiet time, and a regular place? And how do you quiet your heart?

Over at Informing the Reforming, Tim Challies is leading a discussion of The Hidden Life of Prayer. For a book that’s more than 100 years old, it seems delightfully on target. The language is 1890s English (perhaps with a Scottish accent), but it still appropriate for all of us in 2012.

Even sorrow is joy

On Sunday afternoon, we attended a memorial service for Alex Moore, who died last month following complications after surgery. He was not quite 32; his first child is due in May.

It was a hard, beautiful, crowded service. We saw people we hadn’t seen in years. A considerable number of us at the service had at one time belonged to the same church, one that had seen an outpouring of members a decade or so ago. We were part of that diaspora. So many of us had joined different churches and gradually or suddenly lost touch. And there we were, together once again, uniting to honor the memory of a young man we knew.

The time for asking why had passed; now was the time for memories, tears, laughter, and hugs.

I thought a lot about that memorial service as I read the last chapter of Kisses From Katie: A Story of Relentless Love and Redemption by Katie Davis and Beth Clark. For the last 20 weeks, led by Jason Stasyszen and Sarah Salter, we’ve been discussing this book of a young woman who leaves everything familiar behind to serve as a missionary in Uganda.

For the first few chapters, I fretted over her attitude about home, but she (and I) got over it. She’s been through some extraordinary experiences, and in this last chapter, she doesn’t let herself or the reader off easily. No platitudes here. Instead, she has to face and ultimately accept the removal of one her children from their home. The girl had been abandoned by her birth mother as a baby and legally adopted by Katie. But the birth mother reappears, claiming her child, and the court eventually agrees.

And Katie has to watch as the child, little Jane, leaves their family to go with their birth mother and an uncertain future. Katie grieves; it is a kind of death. Katie accepts what she must, just as Alex Moore’s parents had to accept what they must. The circumstances are different, but there comes a point when we have to face a hard, unyielding truth: someone or something will not change; a loved one is gone; something is lost.

Katie, all of 22 when this happens, knows to turn to God. But she’s human, and she grieves, and in her grief turns to Scripture, specifically Isaiah: “Surely just as I have intended so it has happened and just as I have planned so it will stand” (14:24). “My good God gives only good things;” she writes, “He planned this and He will use this. In Him, even sorrow is joy.”

He knows tragedies like what happened to Alex. “He will use this. In Him, even sorrow is joy.”

To read more posts on this chapter, please visit Jason at Connecting to Impact. And thanks to both him and Sarah for leading and hosting our discussion.

An Interview with Tripp York

Last month, I reviewed The Devil Wears Nada by Tripp York. It was unlike anything I’d read before – irreverent, funny, provocative, and ultimately deeply thought-provoking. An email exchange ensued, and Tripp graciously (and irreverently) agreed to an interview.

Tripp York, PhD, teaches in the Religious Studies Department at Virginia Wesleyan College in Norfolk, VA. He’s the author of more than half a dozen books, including his most recent, The Devil Wears Nada. He is the general co-editor of the forthcoming Peaceable Kingdom Series. The first volume in the series, A Faith Not Worth Fighting For, is now available. He says that when he’s not busy writing, he spends much of his time shoveling animal poop at the zoo. He finds sloths, squirrel monkeys and African crowned cranes to be far less under the influence of Satan than most of his human peers. Well, maybe not the squirrel monkeys.

You were raised in the Nazarene church – and you’ve been a Mennonite for some years. How did that happen?

I’m not sure I know how it happened, but I know why it happened: I didn’t want to end up in hell! (Laughs)

No, seriously. That may offend some folks—especially some lovely Nazarenes. I’ve been shaped by some absolute Nazarene saints, so ‘Go Team Naz’! But as a group, the Mennonites strike me as one of the few traditions that consistently take Jesus at his word. Which is precisely why I don’t really like being a Mennonite. It’s hard work. I find a lot of other traditions too easy. They love to add parenthetical remarks behind all of Jesus’s teachings. You know, like, “Love your enemies (except when your nation-state tells you to kill them).” “Give to all those who ask (unless the person is a drunk, in which case put your money in a savings account).” “Do not resist evil (unless democracy is at stake).”

That kind of Christianity is just not very interesting. Why bother with it?

Tell us a bit about what you teach at Virginia Wesleyan.

I teach World Religions courses as well as courses in Christian Ethics. This past semester I created a course for the school called ‘Sex, Violence & Christianity.’ As you can well imagine, we had lots to talk about.

In researching the book, you talked to a lot of people about their understanding of Satan—people in the pews (and people who’ve left the pews), pastors, the bodybuilding Faith Force, shamans, even a witch (I don’t know if I would have done that in person myself; maybe by email with a temporary Yahoo address?). You were looking to see what you could learn about God by learning what people understand about Satan. What did you find out?

That most of us are heretics! (Laughs)

And the wiccans I spent time with were far more generous than a significant number of preachers I interviewed. Some of those ‘ministers of the good news’ were incredibly hostile. There were times when I wished my interviews with them had been via email with a temporary Yahoo address.

The book is funny, often irreverent, throwing a dart or two at a lot of our preconceived notions – and then it turns very serious. If our understanding of Satan is more cultural than Biblical, does that suggest our understanding of God is more cultural than Biblical?

Yes, sir. I think that would be correct. And thanks for the compliment…that is, calling it funny. I’m still trying to convince my mom that it’s supposed to be humorous. She’s not convinced. Maybe she’ll take your word for it!

How can we understand Satan more Biblically?

That’s a really tricky question. The bible, obviously, is not self-interpreting. It’s always read through a particular lens that betrays a specific economic and social location. I’m afraid there is no quick answer to this question other than surrounding ourselves with a wide array of theological sources that date back two thousand years. We need all the help we can get. I know I do.

I understand you’ve done seminars related to work and the workplace. Can you tell us about that?

I’ve taught seminars that explore the relationship between meaning, significance, work, and how all of that ties into Christian vocation. I’m very interested in how Christians understand work, its purpose, and what sort of role it plays in making a difference in our communities as well as in the body politic that is the church.

St. John Chrysostom was once criticizing some of his parishioners for their comments about the homeless. Just like today, Christians in the 5^th century often carried very haughty attitudes toward those who were not employed. They didn’t want to share their goods with the homeless because, as some of them suggested, “They should get a job and earn an honest living.” Chrysostom found their response to be rather curious and quickly pointed out that many of his parishioners worked jobs that were more morally corrupting than not working at all. Now that’s interesting! He tells them they have the kind of jobs worse than not having a job at all. And work is how most of us will spend the bulk of our lives, so having theological conversations about how we spend the majority of time seems important. What we do matters. Which is probably why I need to find a more meaningful job than being a religious studies professor. It’s a soul-thieving racket, but the hours are wonderful.

Related: My review of The Devil Wears Nada.

Fiction Grounded in Reality

“People frequently believe the creative life is grounded in fantasy. The more difficult truth is that creativity is grounded in reality, in the particular, the focused, the well observed or specifically imagined.”

                              Julia Cameron, The Artist’s Way

A few months back, my wife told me something that startled me. “Your book,” she said, referring to Dancing Priest, “is filled with you.”

I was surprised because (1) I’ve never been in the Olympics, (2) I do ride a bike but have never raced, (3) I am not an ordained priest or even a member of the Anglican Church, (4) I met my wife in very different circumstances than Michael Kent met Sarah Hughes, and (5) I don’t know how to tango. A quick glance says there’s very little about me that is obviously in the book, with one significant exception: how one character comes to faith is based very closely on my own experience.

So her comment at first didn’t make much sense. And then I reread it, and discovered she was right. The fiction that is Dancing Priest is grounded in reality – a reality that’s very familiar.

And more than that, the sequel manuscript is as well. I’ve been editing – wrestling is a better word – the manuscript, and I’m realizing that it, too, is grounded in a familiar reality. So are the other manuscripts in the series (if it goes that far). So is the poetry I write. And the novel manuscript that’s completely different from what I’ve done so far. And the extended outline for still another novel. And the novella I’ve been working on, which is still unfinished but I have a really cool photo by Claire Burge for the cover.

Reading over everything I’ve done, I’ve learned there are some consistent themes, also grounded in that familiar reality.

The desire to create something exceptional.

How that desire faces circumstances or people standing in the way.

Unknown, unexpected forces or people becoming actively involved, without one’s awareness.

A belief that all will come right, even if not in this life.

The reality of faith, and the conflict it evokes.

These themes play through Dancing Priest and its sequel; through six more manuscripts behind it; through a manuscript totally unrelated to Dancing Priest; and the novella.

All of the themes are grounded in a reality I’m more than familiar with.

Nonetheless, it is still surprising. I thought I had made all of this stuff up. It turns out I hadn’t. Not really.

Led by Lyla Lindquist, we’re discussing Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way: A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity over at TweetSpeak Poetry. This week’s discussion covers chapters 4 and 5 – “Recovering a Sense of Integrity” and “Recovering a Sense of Possibility.” The main article at TweetSpeak will post on Wednesday.

The day after

So now we have three thousand

and more, in one day,

all at once, in fact, so

what are we to do

we are twelve and

some hangers on and how

are we supposed to feed

three thousand

and more, in one day

teach

fellowship

eat

pray

That’s the plan?

teach

fellowship

eat

pray

wonders and signs

be and share

meet needs

meet together

worship together

together with hearts glad

sincere praise enjoying

favor and now

more than three thousand, man

that’s the plan, man

Saturday Good Reads

A little girl struggles through a ballet recital. What rejection means, and must mean, to a writer. A piece of furniture evokes a flood of memories. Numbers, photographs and poems that remarkably fit together. Orange and black roses. And a version of Pachebel in Canon D you may never have heard before. It was a great week online.

Prose

“Blinker” by Jake Lee at Very Much Later.

“My Last Day” by Matthew Kreider at Vision over Visibility.

“Memorial Day: Do Flowers Grow on Pork Chop Hill?” by Greg Sullivan at Sippican Cottage.

“Dancing Queen” by Amanda Hill at Hill + Pen.

“Thomas More, ‘A Man for All Seasons’ and the Price of Integrity,” by Anita Mathias at Dreaming Beneath the Spires.

“50,000 Seeds: How Destruction Regenerates Your Life” by Shawn Smucker.

“One more time” by Billy Coffey at What I Learned Today.

“The Desk” by Harriett Gillham at The Other Side of the Mountain.

Poetry

“Ursula Bethell” by D.S. Martin at Kingdom Poets.

“Color Theory” by Maureen Doallas at Writing Without Paper.

“12” and “13” by Nancy Rosback at A Little Somethin’.

“The Journey” by Chris Yokel.

“Critical (Hours) Abstracted” byBrian Miller at WayStationOne.

Paintings & Photographs

“Revelation” by Nancy Rosback at A Little Somethin’.

“Orange and Black Roses” by Kelly Sauer.

“Shells” and “Tangerine Calendula at High Noon” by Tim Good at Good Photography.

“Matters of the Heart” by Susan Etole at Just…A Moment.

“Portrait of Eric” by Paul Batch.

Videos

“Rockelbel’s Canon (Pachebel’s Canon in D)” by The Piano Guys.

Photograph: The Chinese Lantern Festival at the Missouri Botanical Garden, May 31, 2012, by yours truly.

Public Relations as a Cultural Act

I've spent 38 years in the public relations business, mostly for companies. I’ve occasionally been asked, “Have you ever lied for your company?” The question speaks volumes about what people think about PR in general, but I can truthfully say I have never lied for any company or organization I’ve worked for.

Of course, it may be the wrong question. If I were asked, “Have you ever been asked to lie for your company,” my answer would be different.

To continue reading, please see my post today at The High Calling.

Photograph by Susan Jones.